The Sleight Before Christmas (Holiday Hijinx Series Book 2)
The Sleight Before Christmas: Chapter 13

“Hey, sweetheart, come on in,” Ruby greets, opening the door for me with a ready smile. “Dinner’s almost ready.” I step in, the smells from the kitchen and the feel of the house sinking into me. “Do you mind going to grab Serena?”

“No, ma’am,” I say as music blasts down from the second floor.

“Tell her to turn that shit down if you don’t mind,” she tosses over her shoulder as I head up the stairs, a smile twisting my lips. Traveling down the hall toward the sound of the music, I place it as “Let Me Blow Ya Mind” by Eve and Gwen Stefanie. Knowing the girl playing it is probably in some sort of mood by the song choice, it’s confirmed when I peek around the corner to see her shaking her pert little ass to it. Kicking back for the show just outside the doorway, I watch as Serena taps her hips perfectly to the beat, her long, silky hair dancing just inches from the top of her jeans. The camisole undershirt she’s wearing hugging her palm-sized tits and tapering to her muscular, trim waist. She’s slightly more bottom-heavy in the best imaginable way. A little thicker in the thighs, her heart-shaped ass everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman.

Everything about this girl turns me on.

Every. Fucking. Thing.

We’ve spent a lot of time in the last few days sparring, talking, and blistering each other’s lips with kisses, and I can’t fucking get enough. The gnawing in my chest as I watch her tells me I might not ever be able to. The girl is fire. Her eyes, her mouth, and what comes out of it. But she’s got a softness, too. One I don’t think many are privy to. One I fucking hope is reserved just for me. As much of a pain in the ass that I suspected she is—and is turning out to be—so far, I wouldn’t change a thing.

If I had to change anything in this scenario, it would be me.

“Great, you look at her all googly-eyed too,” Whitney huffs, passing me in the hall as Serena remains distracted. “I’ll make sure to let her know.”

“Little shit,” I call after her as she giggles before making her way down the stairs. Serena, who somehow remained oblivious to our interaction, continues to flirt with her reflection. Brushing her hair, straightening her camisole, shaking her perfect ass, applying more gloss, I camp out for all of it. For as long as it takes for her to feel me watching her. Which isn’t too much longer. When she spots me in her mirror, she instantly perks, no shits given about what she’s been busted doing as she glances back.

“Hey,” she greets, stalking over and pressing a kiss directly on my lips. I fold the arms lifting to wrap around me to her sides, widening my eyes.

“What in the hell are you doing?”

“Uh, kissing you, jackass. What are you doing?”

“We’re not doing that in front of your parents,” I exclaim.

“Really? You don’t want them to see anything?”

“No,” I bark.

“Oh, well then, you should probably shut the door,” she says.

“Your mom sent me to get you to the dinner tab—put your fucking shirt back on!” I whisper-yell just as she loses her bra. My cock literally goes from chub to full-on salute as she gives me a pointed look.

“I told you to shut the door, Thatch.”

“Jesus Christ,” I rasp out, quickly shutting the door behind me, chest heaving as I palm it to keep it sealed. My temperamental opposite, she stands utterly unaffected at the foot of her bed. Bare from the waist up, tilting her head, her lips slowly curve up at my reaction.

Shit.

She could never draw this animation from me in the shed. There I’m controlled and in fucking control. Under Allen and Ruby’s roof, I feel utterly helpless. Anger thrumming through me at Serena’s advantage, I entertain rubbing the tip of my cock on her lips until it’s soaked before bottoming out between her exposed tits. We haven’t done anything more than heavy petting, but the sight of her has my mind spinning.

“What if your brother had walked by, Serena?”

“He’s at a friends,” she says.

“Your dad—”

“Never comes up here,” still bare, she starts to stalk toward me, and I

immediately start slapping the air like I’m in a bitch fight before gritting out my order.

“Put a shirt on, now, Serena.”

Full-on laughing at me, she stops and shakes her head. “My God, do they not serve chill at the nunnery? I’m just changing shirts. And by the way, it’s obvious my parents are aware there is something going on between us.”

“It would be a monastery,” I counter, like a complete douche, crossing my arms in an attempt to regain some control. This girl has me bottoming out at least once a day, and not always in a good way.

“Thatch, you don’t like what you see?” She pushes her chest out before raking her lower lip.

“You keep fucking with me like this, and you won’t like what happens.”

She lifts her chin. “Pretty sure I will.”

“Shirt, Serena, now.”

She pulls on her sweater instantly, sans her bra, and I gape at her as she lifts her chin for me to open the door.

“Uh, bra,” I order as she shakes her head and walks toward me. “That’s not what you said, Thatch.”

When she again goes to open her door, I shut it with my shoulder, tempted to give in to the half a dozen scenarios I have for her. All in which she begs.

“Brat,” I snap, and her head whips toward me as I issue my warning. “Put on a bra right now, or I’m going to pay you back in a way you won’t like.”

“Bring it on, Handy Man,” she states before playfully shoving me enough to slip out the door.

Eli lies comatose on the couch as Serena sweeps up Ruby’s favorite candy dish, her eyes narrowing on Peyton as he offers his excuses.

“She tried to kiss me, Mommy!” He defends his actions, which were to shove his baby fist into Wretched Gretchen’s mouth when she went in for some affection. This, in turn, leading to several adults leaping from their seats and one shattered candy dish.

“Can’t really blame him,” I utter low, and thanks to my wife’s sonic mother hearing, she catches it, turning to laser my head off.

“Sorry, baby,” I mutter, knowing that if Peyton heard it, I broke our deal not to undermine her. But if Wretched Gretchen tried to kiss me, I’d shove a fist up her ass. Feeling protective over Peyton for the first time in days, I walk over to usher my devil baby away as Ruby eyes the glass Serena is sweeping up.

“I’m so sorry,” I issue to Ruby, knowing it was her mother’s. Her deceased mothers. A memorable keepsake that she can’t get back. Which no ‘I’m sorry’ is going to remedy.

“Can’t deny I’m bummed, kid, but accepted.”

“I’m sorry, Grammy,” Peyton parrots, and it’s obvious he means it. In return, she bends and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Accepted.”

When Serena’s finished sweeping the glass, I charge Peyton to watch Uncle Eli sleep and tune him into the Grinch. Stalking behind her in the closet, she gapes at me when I close the door behind me.

“What?” She asks. “What did they do now?”

“They? Who is they?”

“The kids,” she exhales.

“What kids?” I ask, fingering the hem of her hoodie.

“Thatch, right now, here? You can’t be serious,” she utters.

I lean in, running my palm up her stomach, molding one of her breasts until she’s pressing into it before massaging the other. “Thirteen and a half years. If you think I’m going to wait that long to touch you again like this, you’ve lost your fucking mind, Brat.”

Her bated exhale is all the fuel I need to clamp her neck between my teeth and flick her flimsy bra to the side. Running my finger over her nipple, I suck her neck lightly. Breaths start to pump out of her as she leans into me. The more pliant she becomes, the more I reward her. A system she’s all too aware of.

“Should I fuck you right here?” I taunt, dipping my fingers into her leggings and teasing them over her clit. She instantly starts to buckle as my chuckle fills the dark closet.

“Thatch,” she croaks as I lift her shirt and draw a nipple into my mouth, “oh my God, it’s been so long.”

“That’s right, it has,” I suckle her nipple in a way she’s all too familiar with as I run my fingers over her panties once more. “Should I suck on this pussy tonight and make it remember me?”

“God, yes, please, yes.”

Deciding to play hardball, I drive two fingers into her, and she grips my shoulders and bites my own to stifle her moan. Crazed with the need to take her, and knowing I’ve done what I’ve set out to, I pull away abruptly and click on the light.

Her mouth remains parted as she gapes at me, clothes fucked, eyes wide.

“Thatch, you can’t do that.”

“Remember the night you teased me at your parents?” I lean in. “No bra at the dinner table?”

“You can’t be serious,” she whispers.

“I warned you, baby. I warned you wouldn’t like it—the payback.”

“It’s been twenty-two years,” she cries.

“They say that revenge is a dish best served cold.”

“Uh, yeah, no, you can’t do this, I’m going to—”

“What?” I counter, “demand dick? How about meet me in the bedroom in a few hours, and I’ll think about it.”

“You son of a—” Serena starts as Whitney sounds before the door opens.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

I chuckle and step out as Whitney looks between us.

“Uh . . . were y’all?” Her lips quirk up. “Did I just interrupt my sister about to get her swerve on?”

“Of course not,” Serena snaps, frantically straightening her clothes. “Why would you think that?”

“Baby,” I drawl, now standing next to Whitney as Serena’s breaths come out like a bull who is about to rage in a China shop, eyes darting between the two of us.

“I was just in here putting up the broom and dustpan,” she picks it up to prove her innocence, “up, and then Thatch came in here!” She points the plastic at me as both accusation prop and future weapon, “and—”

“Baby,” I call a second time.

“What, Thatch. What?” She snaps, her cheeks reddening.

“You’ve got a hickey.”

I barely dodge the dustpan.