Page 3 of Santas' Elf

He grinned. “And now I like you fluffy. I love you either way, but I do enjoy having more of you to cuddle.”

I patted my stomach, which while not flat, wasn’t overly large either. “Still, I’m thinking of hitting the gym come the new year.”

He leaned in and kissed me. “I’ll go with you for support if you want.”

“You just want to stare at my ass as I run on the treadmill.”

Warren laughed. “I consider it a perk of the job.”

I chuckled against his lips. “I love you, you big dork.”

His eyes sparkled. “I love you too.” He pecked my lips. “Shall we go get the costumes out so we can take them to the dry cleaners?”

I settled against him. “Later. For now, I just want to put on a cheesy Christmas movie so we can get into the spirit.”

He hummed and shifted to grab the remote. He handed it over. “You pick the movie, and I’ll make some popcorn.”

“Deal.”

I grinned as he stood and wandered towards the kitchen. I had the best husband a man could ask for.

Chapter 3 - Warren

Ikissed Pete’s bare shoulder, savoring how the morning light made him glow. It gave his skin a rosy hue and brought out all the highlights in his brown hair and beard.

He mumbled in his sleep and scooted his ass back against me, making me chuckle.

Even asleep, he loved it when I touched and cuddled him, and since he was infinitely cuddleable, it worked out for both of us.

I trailed my fingers up his side, following his soft curves and earning a sigh of contentment.

The morning ritual of admiring my husband started when we were still dating—fifteen years before—and had just finished our undergrad degrees. I was always the one to wake up first and had taken to marveling that I was with such a handsome man.

So many early days, I worried that he would want to end things so that he could find an omega and start a family. The day I’d proposed had been the scariest of my life as I’d nearly convinced myself that he wouldn’t want to commit to the long-term with another alpha. But he’d smiled like I’d just given him the greatest treasure in the entire universe and kissed me senseless as he accepted.

Time had done wonders to ease my fears, and our bond grew stronger every year. But that closeness also let me see the desires he’d left behind to be with me: lingering gazes on pregnant omegas and wistful sighs as families pushed strollers past us.

My Pete loved children. So did I, but his longing for them was stronger than mine. If it were up to him, we’d have a house full of kids.

I buried my nose in his neck and took a deep breath before forcing myself from our bed. His warm and soothing scent was better than any cup of coffee when it came to ensuring that I was ready for the day ahead—and ours was packed.

We had to get our costumes to the dry cleaners, then arrange things with our staff so they’d know our out-of-office schedule for November and December. We’d need to make appointments to get our beards trimmed, shaped, and Pete’s bleached.

I scratched my beard. I probably needed to bleach as well. It was more a silver-gray than the silver-white that a proper Santa needed.

I made a mental note to call the children’s hospital too—ask if they wanted us to stop in. Anything to ensure that my Pete got his fix of smiling children. We only had a handful of weeks before it would be back to the childless life.

We’d discussed adoption or surrogacy, but neither of us was blind to the challenges of either option—or the cost. While we could technically afford it, we’d heard too many horror stories of alpha-alpha couples losing tens of thousands of dollars when the birth parent decided they wanted to keep the baby or that they wanted a more traditional family for their child.

But more than the cost, I knew that if we got that far in a process, only to have the rug pulled out from under us, it would break my gorgeous husband’s heart.

I flicked on the light in the closet and pushed aside shirts and sweaters until I found the garment bags hanging in the back corner. I pulled them forward and unzipped the first.

The rich maroon of one of Pete’s costumes peeked through, and I ran my fingers along the hint of velvet. We’d splurged on our costumes, each with stunning details that made for exquisite photos. But it was the booming laugh, huge smile, and sparkle in Pete’s eyes every time a child screamed ‘Santa!’ that made it all worth it.

He loved making kids happy, and being Santa was one of the ways he could do that. And I was determined to support him.

It was after a particularly rough holiday season—when several of Pete’s cousins had new babies—that I suggested we become mall Santas.