Page 26 of One Naughty Christmas Night

Taking the cloth in hand, he came back over to her and washed her, then himself, depositing the cloth back into the bowl before coming back to the bed.

Helping her stand, he pulled the covers down, then tucked her in. Moving to the other side of the bed, he slipped underneath the covers, meeting her in the middle.

He tucked her against him, and she settled against him, sliding into sleep.

He drifted off with the frightening realization that Victoria fit into his life perfectly in every single way

Victoria opened her eyes, the ceiling above the bed not her own.

She glanced toward the door, recognizing Heath’s trousers crumpled in a pile on the floor. Her face immediately warmed as she turned to her bedmate, his face peaceful in sleep.

Heath lay flat on the bed, his arm tossed over his head. The covers gathered at his waist, displaying his lean, muscular chest to her. Drinking it in, she scooted over on the bed, gingerly placing her hand on his naked skin.

She teased the soft, dark hair that covered his chest, her eyes following the trail of hair that tapered down his waist, then disappeared under the covers.

Scooting a little bit closer, she ran her hand down his chest to his stomach, tracing the faint outline of muscles on his belly.

“So strong,” she whispered. “Yet so gentle.”

Her hand slipped below the covers as a knock rang out.

Heath’s eyes popped open, and his head whipped toward her.

He held his finger to his lips, and she clamped her lips shut.

“Heath!” Quinn called, his booming knock echoing through the room.

“I’m coming, Quinn!” he shouted, bolting out of bed.

“He can’t find me here,” she whispered, panic rising.

“Here,” he said, pulling her from the bed. Tucking the sheet around her, he helped her into his armoire, stuffing the rest of the sheet in it with her and shutting the door.

She slid to the ground, meeting the hard wood of the bottom of the closet with a thunk. The smell of Heath’s cologne filled her nostrils, the scent comforting, her panic calming.

Cracking the door open, she watched Heath grab his trousers, yanking and hopping his way to the door. She crammed her fist to her face to keep herself from giggling as he opened the door and admitted his brother.

“Good morning, Heath,” Quinn said, coming into the room.

He turned to face Heath, his back to Victoria hidden in the armoire.

“Good morning, Quinn,” Heath replied, leaving the door open. He moved to lean against the bedpost, Victoria’s eyes drinking in his tall form from her hiding space.

He really is such a handsome man.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this early morning visit?” Heath asked.

“Well, I came to remind you of the Christmas Eve breakfast, to which Mother will admonish you if you’re late,” he stated. “But I also wish to speak to you about Victoria.”

Me? What could he possibly want to talk to Heath about me?

She could make out Heath’s confused look from where she hid.

“About Victoria?” he asked. The pillows on the bed bounced as Heath sat.

Quinn glanced around for a moment, and Victoria tucked the door shut.

“Is she all right? With Bastion here?” he asked.