Page 30 of Tinsel & Chrome

Tex

Christmas Eve...

There’s a certain kind of quiet that only comes after a full house settles. Not silence—just peace. The kind you feel more than hear.

Larissa’s tucked under my arm, warm and soft, curled up like she belongs there. Because she does. Every inch of this place has been rebuilt from something broken. And so has she.

Across the room, Johan’s sitting on a throw blanket in front of the fireplace, gently rolling a little wooden car back and forth—one Vamp carved himself with CeCe supervising (read: shouting “again!”

every three seconds). CeCe’s in Lena’s lap now, thumb in her mouth, hair full of glitter and tinsel, half-asleep against her mama’s chest.

Lena hums something soft while she rocks her, voice light and low, more breeze than melody. She glows in that quiet way she always does—like she’s lit from the inside. And Vamp’s behind her with a hand resting gently on her shoulder, his other arm loosely around Johan, who’s now dozing upright.

They’re the kind of family you bleed for.

And somehow, we’re part of that now.

Larissa watches the scene with that little half-smile of hers, the one that says she sees everything and lets it crack her open anyway. Her fingers find mine under the blanket.

Her voice is barely a whisper.

“This... this feels like the kind of life I didn’t believe I could have.”

I squeeze her hand.

“It’s yours now. All of it.”

We slowly stand, hand in hand, and make our way upstairs to our room.

The door clicks shut behind us and Larissa turns, backlit by the soft string of lights hung over the window. She peels off my cut first—slow, deliberate—and lays it over the back of the chair. Her fingers move to the hem of her sweater dress next.

“You sure you don’t want to unwrap me?”

she asks, lifting the red knit up inch by inch, revealing bare thighs and that curve of her waist that drives me insane.

“I’m savoring the view,”

I rasp, voice gone low and raw.

I step closer, slipping the dress over her head. She’s not wearing a bra—just a tiny scrap of red lace that barely counts as underwear. My breath catches.

“You’re dangerous,”

I murmur, letting my hands roam over the warm skin of her waist, her hips, her thighs.

She smiles up at me, sweet and smug.

“I’m yours.”

I hook a finger in the waistband of her panties and drag them down slowly, kneeling as I go. I kiss the inside of her thigh, then the soft skin right at her hipbone. She shivers.

“Lie back,”

I say, voice rough.

She obeys, crawling onto the bed and reclining against the pillows, wild hair spilling everywhere like something from a dream. I crawl up after her, slotting myself between her legs and kissing a slow path from her navel to the soft heat between her thighs.

She’s already slick. Warm. Aching.

My tongue drags along her slit, and she arches up off the bed, gasping my name. I take my time, sucking her clit between my lips, licking her slow and deep, holding her hips still while her thighs tremble.

She comes with a cry, breathless and shaking, fingers in my hair, body arching into my mouth.

I don’t give her time to come down.

I rise over her, kissing her hard as I line myself up and slide inside. Her breath catches, her legs wrap around me, and I sink in slow, inch by inch, until I’m buried to the hilt.

“Tex,”

she whispers, hands gripping my back, “please don’t go slow.”

But I do.

Because I want to feel everything.

Each thrust is deep and steady, my forehead pressed to hers, our mouths brushing between breaths. She gasps, whimpers, moans—every sound she makes drives me closer to the edge.

She tightens around me, nails digging into my shoulders. I reach between us and rub her clit, watching her fall apart all over again. Her orgasm crashes through her like lightning—shaking, clenching, crying my name—and I lose it too, thrusting hard as I come deep inside her, groaning against her throat.

We collapse together, sweat-slick and tangled in each other, her heart racing under my palm.

When I can breathe again, I kiss her forehead and whisper, “Merry Christmas, my reckless princess.”

She smiles against my chest.

“Best one I’ve ever had.”

Outside, snow falls soft and steady.

Inside, she’s in my arms.

And I know—without question—I’m home.