* * *
Rockstar Romance (Sphere of Irony)
Incite — Adam
Strike — Dax
Resist — Gavin (M/M)
Wreck — Hawke
* * *
The Famous Series
Relatively Famous
Absolutely Famous
Extremely Famous
Already Famous (Drew’s POV)
Suddenly Famous (a novella)
Reluctantly Famous (a novella)
* * *
Ricochet— Military Romantic Suspense
Locked & Loaded
Friendly Fire
Extraction Point
* * *
As Leigh Carman- M/M Romance
Sports of the Seasons—by Dreamspinner Press
Match Point- Volleyball (Summer)
Fair Catch- Football (Fall) coming soon
Power Play- Hockey (Winter) coming soon
Full Count- Baseball (Spring) coming soon
The Perfect Stocking Stuffer
Lex Martin
Not even the scent of the warm apple pie on the counter can distract me from the faded Boston Red Sox t-shirt riding up his abs.
“Babe, can you hand me that wrench again?” my fiancé Brady asks from beneath the kitchen sink, oblivious that I’m ogling him.
Fiancé. My silly heart flops on the ground and makes snow angels.
His big hand reaches out as he waits. I stare at it, loving how it’s calloused and strong and smudged with dirt. Tattoos stretch down that muscular arm and lick his wrist.
“Kat, baby, the wrench.”
Laughing, I hand it to him. “Sorry, I got distracted.” His legs are bent, but he’s tall, so half of his body is lounging in the middle of our kitchen. Absentmindedly, I kneel next to him and run my hand over his knee and up his muscular thigh, and he stills.
He clears his throat. “Tell me more about this distraction.”
Goosebumps break out on my skin.
I want to tell him how he makes me crazy, how he still makes my heart flutter, but as I open my mouth, two little arms wrap around my neck, and I come nose to nose with my sweet Izzy, Brady’s niece, whom he adopted earlier this year after the tragic death of her parents.
“Hey, pip squeak.” I pick her up, and her smile widens. “Sorry, handsome,” I call to Brady. “We have a child in our presence. No naughty words.”
He grumbles, and I shake my head with a smile. Yes, it’s been hard to get two minutes alone, but I know he loves Izzy more than life itself.
“Can I? Pwease, pwease, pwease!” she asks, her beautiful blue eyes wide and pleading beneath a wild mane of sandy-brown hair.
In each clenched hand, she waves scraps of wrapping paper.
“Oh, honey, no.”
I pry open her fists to find two lipsticks among the mangled, glittery red paper. Then I reach into the pockets of her sweatshirt and discover a few more items.
My lips twist as I debate the switcheroo I need to make.
Reaching into my own pocket, I grab my favorite chapstick and hand it to Izzy, hoping one new beauty product will appease our curious toddler.
Seriously, two-year-olds get into everything, even gifts that I thought were hidden.
“Done.” Brady slides out from under the sink and unfolds his mouthwatering body. He shakes his black hair out of his eyes and gives me a sexy smile.
I lean against the kitchen table so I don’t swoon. I love a man who can fix things. And he can fix everything. Even me.
During the past year together, he’s healed parts of me I didn’t even realize were broken. But I suppose that’s the power of love.
He washes his hands and then dries them on the back of his jeans before he reaches for Izzy, lifts her into the air, and blows a raspberry on her tummy.
Watching Brady love up his niece puts an automatic smile on my face. She’s still laughing uncontrollably as he swings her onto his hip and then leans over to kiss me.
“What was that for?” I ask, wishing we could have a little time alone before our families descend on the farm for the holidays. My sister Tori is already here, but we’re hosting Christmas dinner tomorrow for the first time, and all of my relatives from Corpus are driving up. Dios ayúdame. I’m pretty sure Tori and I didn’t make enough tamales, and I’m trying to stave off a panic attack.
Brady smacks his lips and winks at me. “Can’t I kiss my girl just because?”
Reaching behind my neck, he tangles his fingers in my hair and pulls me to him again.
I nod, feeling oddly shy. “Yes, you can kiss your girl.”
Instinctively, my hand moves up his chest where his heart beats steadily against my palm, and I press a kiss to his stubbled cheek. I love this, our little family unit. Love how Brady wraps Izzy and me in strong arms. Love how safe I feel with him.
His eyes are dark green, the color of a meadow after a thunderstorm. They crinkle in the corners as he turns to Izzy, and he blows another raspberry against her neck, making her snort and giggle. My heart squeezes to see her so happy again after everything she’s been through.
Brady motions toward the kitchen table to the beauty products I bought our moms. “Guess we’re not done wrapping the Christmas gifts.”
“I thought we were, and now I’m confused because I could’ve sworn I put those in a stocking, so I’m not sure where the wrapping paper came from. Unless our little ninja unwrapped something else.”
She giggles and points to herself. “Izzy’s a good gurl,” she says proudly.
Wiping a smudge off her cheek, I tell her, “You are a good girl, monkey. We’ll overlook this little incident if I can have a kiss.”
I point to my cheek, and she blows a wet raspberry all over me, and I laugh as I dab at the wetness with the sleeve of my red-checkered flannel.
Brady puts her in her high chair with a snack before pulling me into a hug on the other side of the kitchen, so we’re standing behind Izzy. She starts to play with her little musical toy, the one that’s obnoxiously loud, but when Brady squeezes me tight, I’m suddenly grateful for ear-piercing kid’s tunes that can distract a two-year-old.
His teeth nip into the tender skin of my shoulder, and I yelp in surprise. In two seconds, he has me pinned against the pantry door, his hands beneath my ass and lifting me to his height. I tighten my legs around his hips, wishing the baby was already in bed, when someone clears her throat.
“My eyes!” Tori claps her hands over her face. “Should I take Iz so you two can continue mauling each other?”
Brady chuckles against my neck and puts me down. “Sorry, Tor.” He stays against me, and I realize he can’t turn around just yet.
Tori peeks between her fingers, and when it’s clear we’re fully dressed and only needed a minute for a quick make-out session, she waggles her eyebrows at me. “Trying to squeeze in a nooner, huh?”
“Hush,” I say, sneaking out from Brady’s hold. Tori pretends she’s shocked and offended, but it’s all an act. She’s eighteen, and I’m pretty sure she’s way more sexually active than I ever was at her age.
Brady turns around and pulls me to him so my back is to his chest. Who knew this big guy was such a snuggler? Seriously, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.
Tori shakes her head. “Dude, you know I just like to give you shit. Besides, you guys are almost newlyweds.” She shrugs. “Speaking of getting married, we still haven’t gone through the bachelorette favors I got for the party next week.”
Even though we’re getting married in January, we decided to have a little get together a few days after Christmas since a couple of my college friends will be relatively close for the holidays.
My sister sing-songs, “Can’t wait to show you all the goodies!”
Tori makes a crazy face, the one that reminds me of a deranged Jack Nicholson, and I frown. Maybe letting my sex-obsessed sister plan my bachelorette party was a bad idea. I told her no strip joints, no strippers, and no nudity in any way s
hape or form. That means no cock cakes either. I’ve seen her Pinterest board, so I don’t think I was jumping the gun to rule out erotic desserts.
Brady’s going to have a couple beers with his dad and a few of the guys he’s befriended since he moved to Texas. We’d like everything to be really low key. Besides, the last thing I want to do is kick-off my marriage with some sweaty, naked stranger shaking his junk in my face.
Tori agreed to those parameters, but now I’m wondering if she was simply telling me what I wanted to hear while she plans something outrageous.
“Tori, I’m worried. You have that mischievous look in your eyes.”
“Sister dearest, I always have a mischievous look in my eyes.” She bats her lashes at me and cackles like a crazy person.
“You promised, right?” I give her a look, and she rolls her eyes.
“I know. I know.” She holds up her hands. “No dicks. I remember.”
Little Izzy whispers something at the table, and Tori snorts a laugh.
I scoot out of Brady’s arms and yank on the hem of my sister’s t-shirt.
“Please tell me Izzy didn’t say what I think she said.” Pushing up my glasses, I give her my WTF face.
Because this kid repeats everything. If she starts chanting “no dicks” during Christmas dinner tomorrow evening, I’m going to strangle my sister.
Tori shrugs. “Can we go look at the…” She makes a silly face and whispers loudly, “Sex toys. Please.”
Brady snickers, but I’m too embarrassed to do more than cover my face. Because I’m really not in the mood to discuss vibrators and God knows what else minutes before my parents arrive.
Except the doorbell rings, and I freeze, moments from throttling my sister.
Tori leans close. “Bummer, dude. Now we’ll have to look at the cock rings I bought while we chat with Mom.”
I laugh, a little hysterically, as she trots off to answer the front door. My parents are super strict Catholics who mostly ignore the fact that Brady and I are “living in sin” because of the circumstances that brought us together.
Two big hands land on my shoulders, and Brady pulls me back to his warmth and kisses my temple. “She’s joking, babe. You know that.”
Nodding, I realize he’s right. My sister, as annoying as she can be sometimes, doesn’t mean any harm. She’s just being Tori, the carefree sister I wish I was.
Besides, I’m almost twenty-five and about to marry the man of my dreams. There’s no reason why sex toys should embarrass me.
Right?
* * *
Once I get my parents settled, I serve a light dinner, homemade chicken tortilla soup with cornbread. We’re opening our presents early tomorrow before my aunts, uncles and army of cousins arrive for dinner, so I want to get a good night’s rest before the chaos descends on our farm.
After Brady and I bathe Izzy and get her ready for bed, I leave them in her room as he reads her a bedtime story. I check on my sister, who is sprawled on the couch in the living room. As usual, Tori’s glued to her phone, so I make sure she has enough blankets before I duck into my bedroom to go through the Christmas gifts that are piled up in the closet.
But after twenty minutes of searching everything, I still can’t find the second package Izzy opened.
Finally, I pick up Bandit, our pet raccoon, and snuggle him to my chest as I stare at the gifts and mentally try to figure it out. Damn. I want tomorrow to be perfect.
A few minutes later, Brady opens the door and closes it behind him.
“Is Izzy asleep?”
“Yup.” He turns on the baby monitor, kicks off his shoes, and reaches behind his head to tug off his t-shirt. Well, hello, handsome.
Before Brady, I was never into tattoos, but I don’t think they’ve ever looked as good as they do on this man. His body is lean and taut, cut and ridged in all of the right places. With golden skin from all of the work he does outside, he’s a canvas of ink and color.
And when he stands in front of me like this, shirtless with his jeans hanging low on his slender hips, everything else around him blurs out of focus.
I lick my lips. “And, uh, are my parents asleep in the office?”
“Yes, ma’am. Operation ‘Get Everyone the Fuck to Bed so I Can Get Naked With My Woman’ is in full effect.”
Laughing, I crook my finger and urge him closer.
Bandit leaps off my lap and stretches up against Brady’s leg.
“Hey, little fucker,” he jokes, reaching down to scratch behind his ear. The raccoon chitters and holds his arms open, wanting to be carried.
“I told you he’d come around eventually.”
“Took him long enough,” Brady grumbles as he picks him up, and my little furry rascal hugs his neck.
“See, Bandit, Daddy wubs you.” Those two haven’t always gotten along.
My fiancé shakes his head, a smile lifting his lips.
After a moment, Brady heads for the door to take him out to the enclosed back porch to put our unconventional pet to bed. When he returns, he slides our bedroom lock in place, and then his smoldering eyes land on mine.
“Where were we? Oh yeah…”
Next thing I know, he’s pouncing on the bed, trapping me beneath his big, hard body as I giggle.
“Tell me, sweetheart, have you been naughty or nice?” Brady rasps against my neck.
“Nau…naughty. Very, very naughty,” I whisper.
I like this game, the one where I pretend I’m a foxy vixen, equally matched to this slab of sexy hovering over me.
“Well, naughty girl, I might have something for your stocking.”
“Really?” I smirk. “Is it the perfect stocking stuffer?”
“Oh yeah, baby.” He licks up my neck, and I shiver.
He starts to lower himself on me but pauses when we hear the door to the office open across the hall. My dad’s gruff voice calls out, “Margie, did you pack my Preparation H?”
Um.
I start to laugh, but silence myself against Brady’s shoulder.
“Shh!” my mother hisses. “Don’t wake Izzy! Déjame ver.”
The voices drop to low murmurs before two doors shut, presumably the bathroom and the office.
Brady and I look at each other and start to laugh again.
“That was kind of a mood breaker,” I snort.
He slides down next to me with a chuckle and pulls me against his side. My arm automatically wraps around his broad chest while my leg slides between his thighs.
I’m tempted to rub against him. So tempted. But my parents are awake and, like, ten feet away. This isn’t the first time they’ve stayed with us, but when they were here this summer, we were too exhausted with the lavender harvest to even think about sex.
I let out a weary sigh.
“Kit Kat,” Brady whispers.
“Yeah?”
I’m thinking he’s gonna tell me we should just go to sleep. I know he’s worn out after the long week we’ve had.
Instead, his hand slips under my shirt, his rough skin sending chills across my body as he teases the side of my breast.
His minty breath is hot against my cheek. “Can you be quiet?” he asks as his knee moves up and gently presses against the apex of my thighs, increasing the ache to a frantic pulse.
My hips arch, and I nod. “Quiet. Yes, I can be quiet. So quiet.”
He smiles against me, but he’s already poking against my belly, so I know I’m not the only one who’s ready to go.
Squeezing my legs against his, I graze his neck with my nose. He smells so good, like body wash and the faintest hint of his crisp cologne.
I open my mouth on his bare shoulder and suck while I shamelessly grind on his jean-clad thigh. His hands knead my ass, and I tuck my face against his chest to muffle my moan.
“God, I want to fuck you so hard,” he groans against my ear.
That. Yes. Por favor.
In a quick tangle of limbs, I unbutton his jeans as he slides my pajama
pants down my legs. Our clothes fly off until we’re bare, and then he’s pressing me into the bed with his big body.
His weight feels so good. My legs widen to fit him, but I can’t get close enough.
“I’ve missed this,” I tell him, wanting him to know how much I need him.
“I know, baby. Me too. The last few weeks have been insane.”
Our eyes connect as I lean up to nibble on his full lips. But it’s his tongue licking across mine that sends another hard pulse to my core. Our mouths seal when he cants his hips and slides across me.
Gasping, I writhe beneath him, wanting him to sink into me, wanting that fullness, that pressure.
Instead, he leans back and grips my thighs, pushing them apart as he continues to rub me.
He’s all glorious muscles and swirls of ink above me, chest heaving, hair askew.
My eyes travel down his beautiful body, and everything in me tightens when I see his hard length stroking my wet skin. Reaching between us, I part myself to feel him closer, to feel the ridge of his crown, to feel the heat of his cock throbbing against me.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he whispers.
Over and over, he glides before he bends down to suck on my painfully taut nipple. My hand thrusts in his hair as my back tenses. I’m already so close.
“Now. Please.”
With those words still clinging to my lips, he thrusts into me. I have to clench my jaw to keep from moaning. Except he pulls my leg up over his shoulder, and we both gasp at the intensity.
He whispers that he loves me. That he needs me. That I’m his.
I whisper that I want him. That he makes me crazy. That he’s mine.
I cling to his shoulders, to his big body thrusting into me until a fine sheen of sweat coats our skin.
The faint thud of the bed hitting the wall registers in my head, but I’m too close to give it much thought. I can’t stop. I can barely think, barely breathe as Brady reaches between us and rubs that one spot that sets me off.
I don’t mean to scream.
But then I’m coming and he is too, and we cling to each other in the darkness, shuddering and panting, reveling in the euphoria and how good it feels to be together.
F*CKING AWKWARD HOLIDAYS: 25 Short Stories of Awkward Holiday Encounters Page 22
