Page 68 of Daddy's Little Christmas

“And Mrs. Davis?” he asked.

“She noticed,” I said, smiling faintly. “In a good way. She never made a big speech about it. Just put a little rainbow sticker on the fridge one day and said, ‘You know everyone’s welcome in this house, right?’ Then went back to making mac and cheese.” My chest squeezed. “It was enough.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“I’m glad you had her,” he said finally. “And I’m glad you’re here now.”

Theherefelt like more than a place.

I looked around us, a little surprised that we were now the only people around. Then I turned to look at him fully. His eyes met mine, open, no pity there—just a kind of grounded affection that made my stomach tremble.

“I like being with you,” I said, the words scraping raw on the way out. “Like this. Grown.”

A slow smile curved his mouth. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I like taking care ofallof you. Not just the soft parts.”

My heart did a little somersault. Heat climbed my neck.

He reached up, fingers brushing a strand of my hair back from my forehead. The touch was light, but it sent a shiver down my spine.

“Rudy,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?” My voice came out breathier than I’d intended.

“I want to kiss you,” he said. “Can I?”

It was ridiculous how much that question undid me. The fact that he asked. That he didn’t just lean in and assume the answer.

“Yes,” I said, barely louder than the breeze. “Please.”

He cupped my jaw with one big, warm hand, thumb resting lightly at the hinge. I felt the callus there, rough and familiar now. He leaned in slowly enough that I could have changed my mind at any point.

No way would I do that.

His mouth met mine, soft at first—just a press, a hello. Then I exhaled against his lips and something in both of us shifted.

The kiss deepened.

I parted my lips and he followed the invitation, tongue sliding against mine in a slow, unhurried stroke that made my toes curl in my boots. His other hand settled on my hip, fingers flexing once, a barely-there pull that still managed to send heat rushing through me.

I made a small sound into his mouth—half gasp, half whimper. My body leaned toward him like it had its own gravity.

He tasted like mint and the coffee he’d sipped earlier, and something that was just… him.

His thumb stroked my jaw, soothing even as the kiss turned heavier. I shifted closer on the bench, knees knocking his, chest brushing his arm,needingthe contact like air.

I was aware, suddenly and sharply, of the hard line of him where our hips brushed. He was trying to be careful, keep a little space there, but with the way I’d moved, there was no room left.

Heat sparked through me.

I pressed in, just slightly.

His breath caught against my mouth.

Rough pleasure fizzed through my veins at the proof that he wanted me. Not just gentle, not just protective—wanted.

I rolled my hips again, barely a shift, but enough.

He broke the kiss with a quiet groan, forehead resting against mine. His hand on my hip tightened.