by Elaria Ride
She’s here. Kara’s here. It hadn’t been a dream, hadn’t been imagined…
A satisfied grin spreads across my face as her fingertips play with the curly smattering of hair across my nipples.
“Merry Christmas,” she murmurs, nibbling at my neck.
“Merry Christmas,” I agree, my voice pitching up on the end as her hand comes to rest on my lower stomach. But then something occurs to me — something I hadn’t thought of. Not even once.
“Wait, Kara,” I mutter, swallowing. She pauses, but waits for my cue.
I clear my throat. "I'm sorry. I… guess I only just now realized that it actually is Christmas. And I'm actually a pretty terrible boyfriend," I admit, lacing our hands together, "because I definitely didn't get you anything. But if it helps, I honestly hadn't expected to get this far… and you're… just…"
I trail off with a sigh. "Being with you means more to me than I can possibly describe in words. So… I'm sorry."
Kara doesn’t seem terribly bothered by anything I’m saying, but I need her to understand… need her to know that this is something I take seriously. Treating my partner with respect is of utmost importance — and if my partner happens to be the girl I've wanted since puberty, this is something I really, really want to make sure she understands.
She deserves to be worshipped. Point blank.
I bring our interlaced hands to my mouth and place kisses on her knuckles, hoping to convey everything I’m thinking with this singular, heated stare.
"Harrison," she says gently, never breaking eye contact. A blush graces her porcelain skin, one I've missed for far, far too long… one I know I'll never tire of seeing, not for as long as I live…
“You didn’t get me anything…” she says, and I’m about to apologize (again) when she leans in and silences me with a passionate kiss.
Her tongue slips past my teeth, and my cock twitches as she darts in and out of my mouth. We’re both panting and moaning by the time she pulls her head back several moments later. When she turns to face me again, her brown eyes are filled with something I hadn’t been able to identify earlier.
Now though? I know that feeling. It’s love.
It’s then, I think, that I finally understand.
“You didn’t get me anything, Harrison,” she repeats, tracing her hand down the side of my face. “Because you got me everything.”
I release a chuckle as unbridled warmth permeates through my chest, a sensation more powerful and joyous than anything I’ve ever felt before. And as Kara trails her lips down the contours of my chest, prepared to show me (again!) exactly how much she loves me, I realize that every single other Christmas I've experienced — in all of my 28 years — is now utterly meaningless by comparison… a pale imitation, at best.
Because she’s the best present I’ve ever gotten.
Epilogue
Kara
Anyone who says that Valentine’s Day is the busiest restaurant day of the year is wrong.
Dead. Wrong.
I wince as I lift the umpteenth plate of cannoli onto the serving window. Between the balancing and the piping and the mixing and the chocolate drizzle application, I’ve done this so many damn times today that it feels like my arms are giving out.
Who knew that Mother’s Day would be such a big deal?
I ding the bell to alert the server and turn back around, desperate to leave this place sometime before midnight. Maybe I can even talk Harrison into a nice bubble bath…
To my surprise, though, I’m not greeted with another order on the prep bay.
What I am greeted with is my boyfriend, who is giving me his trademark dashing smirk while he casually leans against the stainless steel. He looks so cocky and self-assured that you’d swear he owns the place.
I roll my eyes, even though he technically does own the place — or half of it.
If we're being specific.
I never could have seen it coming, but hooking up with Harrison again on Christmas was one of the most life-changing experiences of my life. As soon as we'd admitted that we loved each other — and always had — things had moved pretty quickly. It had only taken a few days of being treated like I deserve to be, of being worshipped for being the person I've always been, before I'd realized I was completely done with the LA scene.
It disgusts me, even now, to consider that the success of my business had been contingent upon what I looked like. That’s an absolutely insane concept… and not to mention one that’s incredibly unhealthy. After Harrison and I had gotten together, I’d returned to LA, as scheduled, to finalize the foreclosure of my bakery. I’d invited a few of my employees to join me here at the restaurant, but I can’t say I’ve missed the fat-shaming, body-hating attitude of that city.
Not one little bit.
My eyes return to Harrison, who’s propping himself up on the prep bay with that smirk in place. For all the world, the man looks like he’s crawled out of a 1940s all-American photoshoot.
God, he’s hot… even if his attempts at seduction aren’t particularly appreciated right now. The restaurant has been slammed for hours; we don’t have time for dilly-dallying, not if we ever want to get out of here.
“Don’t you have enough to be doing?” I demand, hands on my hips. I gesture out to the general restaurant, where the crowd is only just starting to slow. “We have probably three hours of side work left, even after the crowd thins!”
Harrison grins at me and shoves his hands in his pockets. He saunters a bit closer and presses his long, muscular body against mine.
“Mmm,” he breathes, one of his large hands drifting closer and closer to my ass. “I think someone just wants to get me alone so she can take advantage of me…”
I laugh in spite of myself. A bit of my frustration melts away as I lean into his embrace. Harrison begins rubbing slow circles on my lower back, and I feel my pulse start to race as my cheeks flush with arousal. He does have a point. Our relationship has been pretty hot and heavy since I’d officially moved in and combined our business efforts. I don’t think we’ve gone 24 hours without having sex since Christmas.
And I have no intention of changing that anytime soon.
I let out a soft whimper as his hands dip deeper below my pants. It's more than a little reminiscent of the first time we'd made love, right here on this prep bay…
But of course, there had been far fewer people around!
I take a scandalized breath as I glance over at the kitchen staff. Shit. I’d almost forgotten we’re in the middle of a damn shift, even if the pounding between my legs is trying to convince me otherwise.
Harrison, for his part, doesn’t seem to care much. His hands are dipping lower and lower, even as wait staff loudly clear their throats from the other side of the kitchen.
“Harrison," I hiss, ripping his hands out. I glare at him, but keep my voice as quiet as I can. "We can't do this — not here!"
He pauses, a faux-serious expression on his face.
“Yes, Kara,” he agrees, attempting to remain stoic despite the twitch of his lips. I roll my eyes; I don’t know exactly where this is going, but I have a good idea.
“You’re absolutely right,” Harrison continues, his eyes never leaving mine. “It would be absolutely terrible to…make advances… right here, in front of anyone.”
He leans in closer again, rubbing his erection against my thigh, and I let out a whimper at the contact. Shit. I’m already putty in his hands — and he knows it…
As if confirming my suspicions, Harrison turns to face mine again, his eyes twinkling with mischief, and whispers, “Which is why my office has a deadbolt.”
THE END
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