“Fuck, Leslie. Fuck!” He slammed into her and gripped her hand on the headboard. His teeth grazed the tender skin at her neck, but he didn’t bite hard, and it only felt good.
He thrust into her hard and paused with a yell, spilling his warmth inside her in short, powerful bursts.
Their panting breaths matched as they moved slowly together, dragging out their orgasms.
Kieran eased her down onto the bed and pulled her against his chest. And now she knew he was purring. She could hear it and feel it vibrating against her breasts.
He ran his fingers through her curly hair and kissed her forehead. Stroke, stroke, kiss.
She was hypnotized by thy way he coveted her. The way he was with her after they coupled was just as sexy and important. He made her feel adored and appreciated. He pressed kisses to her cheeks, nose, her throat, forehead, the top of her head. And then he always came back to her lips.
Her body was humming.
“Leslie?” he murmured.
“Mmm?”
“Good luck escaping me now.”
She smiled in the dark and dragged her fingernails gently down his scarred back. “I’m not running.”
Chapter Seventeen
December 25
The smell woke her up.
Leslie sat up in Kieran’s bed and frowned. Was that…was that turkey cooking?
She loved turkey.
Maybe she was dreaming. Leslie kicked out of the covers and searched the room, but Kieran was definitely not in here.
Clad in his gray oversize T-shirt, she crossed her arms over her bouncing boobs and made her way into the kitchen. What she saw there stunned her.
Kieran, Burke, her dad, and Braden were in the kitchen. Cooking.
Oh, good, she’d lost her mind.
“Hey, peanut,” Dad said, using the nickname he used to call her when she was a kid.
“H-hi, Dad.” The room looked different so she scanned it quick. The stockings on the hearth were full of goodies, and the tree was surrounded by presents. “Ummm, whatthefuckishappening?” she rattled out.
“This Christmas is going to be a little different,” Kieran assured her. “We’re having it over here.”
“What?” she asked. 8 am wasn’t the time for this level of emotion.
“Kieran came and talked to me and your mother the other day while you were working.” Dad’s bushy gray brows drew down. “Now, I don’t know if your mom will show up, but me and Braden did, and hopefully that’s enough.”
“Enough for what, Dad?”
“To bring your holiday spirit back.”
She looked from face to face before landing on Kieran. “You talked to my mom?”
“Yeah, she was super excited when I explained how awesome I think you are and the plans I have for us.”
Leslie giggled loud and said, “I’m sure she was. She loves being told what’s going to happen if she’s not part of the plans.”
“She’s having a difficult time with change,” Dad concurred.
“Are you drinking beer at eight in the morning?” she asked the boys, who were definitely holding Coors in their hands.
Dad looked down at his bottle in a confused manner. “No one was here to tell us not to.”
The room filled with slow-building laughter, and okay. Okay. Turkey lunch for Christmas with Dad, her sister’s husband, Burke, and most importantly…Kieran.
It might be a strange Christmas, but it was a good one.
She made her way to Kieran, and he gripped the side of her sleep shirt as he kissed her. “Go get dressed. I can cook you a dozen turkeys, but I have no fucking clue how to make green bean casserole, and your dad said it’s your favorite.”
“Oh, I’ll eat the whole thing and not share a bite. Don’t judge me.”
“No judgement.” He held up his hands. “I’ve seen you on a cheese ball. I’m not messing with your food.”
She gripped his sweater and pushed up on her tiptoes, kissed him quick. “Thank you.” She looked at her dad and Braden and Burke, then back to Kieran. “Seriously. You’re giving me everything.”
“No matter what, today will be a good day.”
Her face stretched with a smile. “It will. I’m with you.”
His grin before she walked back into the bedroom filled her heart. No matter what, everything was going to be okay today. That’s what Kieran did. He was a fixer, and he would make sure today was amazing.
Her outfit would not have been approved by her mother for a Christmas meal. Green tie-dye leggings, or “eatin’ pants” as Leslie called them, were strictly forbidden from Wilson Family formal dinners. But here, in Kieran’s home, she wore them with an ugly Christmas sweater with a light-up Christmas tree across her teets. Kieran couldn’t seem to stop grabbing her ass as she walked by. The man liked leggings, thank baby Jesus in a manger.
And when the doorbell rang at fifteen minutes to twelve, Leslie answered it and grinned at her sisters, who had shown up with gag gifts. Now, if they were trying to be funny with their cheap bottles of tequila host-gifts and ugly Christmas sweater outfits, they were in the right house. She hugged them. God, when was the last time she’d hugged her sisters?
Inside, Dad was pushing together every table Kieran owned and two folding tables he’d brought. The boys were setting food on the table, and it looked like a feast. Her other two brothers-in-law filtered in, her young nieces and nephews, and a couple cousins. Leslie was utterly shocked, but nothing had stunned her more in her lifetime than when she answered the door, and Mom stood there on the porch. She was dressed to the nines in a formal gown, her hair done, nails on point. She wore movie star sunglasses, even though the day was gray and overcast and a light snow had begun to fall.
“Kieran told us to be here at noon. And not to bring presents. And to wear something hideous.” She lifted her chin higher. “Two out of three isn’t bad.”
Leslie dragged her into a hug and squeezed her for a long time on the front porch. “You did good, Mom. Christmas wouldn’t be the same without you.”
When she pushed her mom back to arm’s length, her mom’s perfectly made-up red lips were trembling. “I just wanted the best for you. Because I love you.”
“I know.” Leslie jerked her chin inside toward Kieran. “He’s the best for me. Mom, I’m happy.”
She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. “I suppose that’s a good thing. Your father has explained to me that sometimes money can’t buy you happiness.”
Leslie laughed and pointed at her. “You need a shot.”
“A shot of what?” her mother asked primly.
“Your other daughters brought cheap tequila.”
“Heathens,” she murmured under her breath, but Leslie didn’t miss it. Mom was smiling.
There were no fancy dinner plates or multiple salad forks. There weren’t fancy wine glasses or manners. Instead, there was chaos.
Leslie watched everyone sit down at the table and talk over each other while passing food. Burke was pouring margaritas from a blender into red Solo cups and joking with everyone. Dad was plopping mashed potatoes onto plates around him, and Braden was calling cousin Fred a doucheball from across the table. Mom was grimacing as she sipped something strong from a shot glass at the end of the table, kids were running around playing tag, and across the room in the kitchen, Kieran was watching her with a handsome smile curving his lips.