Page 17 of Make You Mine This Christmas (Holly Ridge #2)

I choke on the last sip of my eggnog. Daddies have never been my thing, but combining Brody as a bear, plus the way he smells all woodsy, how his beard would tickle along my skin, and the confidence of a daddy is doing something for me. Something very specific, like hardening my dick.

“We could, you know,” Brody says, and I’ve completely lost track of the conversation now.

“We could what?”

“Have sex. The beard comes for free this time of year.”

I blink at him a few times. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Because you don’t think we should get involved romantically?”

“For one reason, sure.”

“I know you have sex just to have sex, Austin. I do too. With having to chauffeur me around, the packed schedule of the workshop, and the idea of your ex in the next room throwing ice on everything, it’s going to be hard to pick up for a few weeks.”

He’s not wrong, but shockingly, I hadn’t given it a thought until he brought it up. As someone who has a decent amount of sex, you’d think it would have crossed my mind before now. But it never did.

“Santa season is definitely my driest time of the year.” My hands curl in on themselves, hearing Brody being so casual about sex with someone else. Me having sex with other people doesn’t seem to bother him, but apparently I’m not as evolved. “It could be a convenient solution.”

The air between us ripples with tension. I see his chest start to move up and down faster and use every inch of willpower at my disposal not to look down and see if his dick is in the same state as mine.

A car horn blares on the TV and breaks the spell.

“I think this might be the eggnog talking,” I say, trying to keep my tone gentle.

“I would be taking advantage of you if I agreed to this right now, tonight. I’m going to put the tree in the stand.

We can let the branches rest overnight and finish decorating after work tomorrow.

You go ahead and go to bed. I promise you won’t want this in the morning. ”

Brody stands, not saying anything else. I hope I didn’t ruin what we’ve built by turning him down, but what I said is true. He’s had too much whisky to do anything consensual tonight.

He stops in the entrance to the hallway, right under the mistletoe that started all this trouble. “You’re a good guy, Austin. You know that?”

I shrug, not sure how to answer.

“And what if I still want it in the morning?” he asks, his back to me.

“You won’t,” I say, convinced what I’m saying is true.

He walks away, and I just barely hear him saying, “I wouldn’t count on it,” before he shuts his door.

I rush through getting the tree into the stand and getting the ropes cut off, before adding water to the base. Convinced it’s not going to fall over in the night, I hurry through my bedtime routine and shut myself in my room, cut off from any temptations or bad decisions.

On the dresser, I grab my bottle of melatonin for the first time since Brody came to stay with me.

I haven’t had as much trouble sleeping since he arrived, but I don’t trust my mind not to whir with thoughts I don’t want to be having when I lay down tonight.

Between the whisky and the gummies, I should be lights out in no time.

I drop my clothes on the floor next to the bed and crawl into the sheets in only my Christmas tree boxer briefs.

My eyes close and, as I hoped, I have no trouble drifting off.

* * *

What I can’t control is the thoughts my brain conjures up while I’m asleep. They’re filled with images of Brody, dancing in a crowded club as Captain Kirk, beckoning me to come dance with him. The same expression he wore when I shut down his mistletoe appears when I say no.

Somehow, that image morphs into him straddling me, wearing only a Santa hat.

It feels so good to touch his skin. My hands rub up his thighs, the hair there tickling my skin, over the swell of his stomach.

I stop at his nipples, giving each one a tweak before tangling my fingers in the hair at the back of his head and pulling his mouth to mine.

As he slowly descends, his hips grind down once, our dicks rubbing together in a way that has me groaning his name right before his lips consume mine.

My eyes shoot open, and I sit up, breathing hard.

It felt like calling out his name is what woke me up, but in the space between dreaming and waking, I’m not positive I did or not.

The floor creaks right outside my door, and I hold my breath, but Brody’s footsteps move away from our rooms and out to the kitchen.

The noises of him making coffee travel back down the hall, and I look at the time on my phone.

The 10:00 has me jumping out of bed, having to tuck my morning wood back under the elastic of my briefs from where the head is peeking out.

I’m sure Brody’s been up for a while, and I missed him showering.

Normally, I’d check, but this situation with my dick isn’t going away without some attention.

With the short time we have before we need to be in Holly Ridge, it will have to be a quick jerk in the shower. Time to multitask.

Opening the door a crack, I stick my head out and smell the fresh coffee dripping into the carafe, accompanied by the sounds of Brody doing the dishes.

I don’t even take the time to feel bad that he’s cleaning up after he cooked last night.

I rush to the bathroom and rest against the door when it’s shut safely behind me.

One deep breath, then two, before I move to turn on the shower faucet.

While I wait for it to get warm, I take myself in my hand and give a quick, firm stroke.

Sparks shoot down my dick toward my balls.

No, this won’t take long at all. Which is what I need since I have no time.

Shower curtain closed, and my hand bracing on the back wall as hot water sluices down my back, I curl the palm of my hand around my cock once more.

My arm moves with a tentative stroke. I pause to gather a pump of body wash and turn my attention to the matter at hand when I hear it.

A quick knock on the door, followed by the creak of the hinges and the sound of Brody saying my name.

“Austin?”