Free Christmas Catch: A Holiday Novella by The 12 NAs of Christmas, Chelsea M. Cameron

he’s inside me with one hard thrust that pushes me into the mattress.
    “Jesus Christ,” Sawyer says, closing his eyes before he pulls back and thrusts again. He picks up my legs and throws them over his shoulders so he can get deep. I remember the first time we tried this position and I wonder if he does. He picks up the pace and I thrust my hips up to meet him as we both drive each other over the edge again. I’ve got so much pent up that I come again, tightening around him and he comes too, much quicker than we have in the past.
    He exhales and his arms shake as he lowers my legs and then himself on top of me. Both of us are covered in sweat and I have to catch my breath. He moves us so that we’re facing each other. With one hand, he pushes some of my hair back.
    “Merry Christmas,” he says and gives me a soft sweet kiss.
    “Merry . . . Christmas,” I say, punctuating each word with a kiss. Who needs mistletoe?
     

     
    Sawyer and I wish each other “Merry Christmas” for the rest of the night, stopping only when we’re absolutely exhausted. We have a lot of time to make up for, it appears.
    God I forgot how much I missed sex. I’d thought about having a fling with a random guy just to get off, but I could never go through with it. He’d do something and I’d realize he wasn’t Sawyer and then I didn’t find him attractive at all. None of them were him.
    “I missed you, but I missed this, too,” he says as the dawn light starts to creep into the room. It’s almost time for us to sneak out for my surprise and we’ve barely gotten any sleep. I don’t mind.
    “I missed you. And your cock.” He groans when I say the last word. I’d learned early on when we’d started having sex that saying that turned him on. I wasn’t fond of the word, but I liked getting him going.
    “You’re asking for it, Poison.”
    “Bring it on, McCallister.” He growls and throws me on my back, but I put my hand to his mouth to shut him up.
    “I heard a noise,” I say, straining to listen. Sawyer freezes and listens as well.
    There’s a sound like a chainsaw being revved and then it stops. Just Dad snoring. Nothing to panic about.
    Sawyer presses his forehead against mine and chuckles.
    “Close.”
    “Very close,” I say, and then we’re getting really close. Again.
     

     
    “As much as I would love to stay like this with you all day, your surprise is waiting,” Sawyer says a while later. I don’t think I can move, but he gets up and finds some clothes out of my drawer and tosses them to me. Leggings, my thickest jeans, a tank top, flannel shirt, sweater and two pairs of thick socks. Then he goes to my closet and pulls out my warmest fleece-lined boots.
    What the hell are we doing that I would need to bundle up that much for? I’m wildly curious. But he won’t tell me a word as I get dressed. By the time I’m done, I’m sweating again and I feel like I’m being suffocated.
    “You’ll thank me, I swear.”
    At least I’m warm when we get back in his truck after brushing off the several inches of snow that cover it. Luckily, it was the fluffy kind so we didn’t have to spend forever scraping off the windshield.
    “We have to make one more stop before you get your present.”
    “The suspense is killing me,” I say, tugging at my clothes. It’s like wearing a sauna.
    “Don’t die yet, Poison. Not until your surprise.”
    “If the suspense doesn’t kill me, the heat might.” I fan myself, but it’s no use. I roll down the window and suck some of the cold air into my lungs. Ah. Better.
    Sawyer grumbles at me, but I don’t care. This is my present. He’ll get his later.
     

     
    The quick stop we have to make is at his house, for him to bundle up as much as I am and to grab some things that he throws in the back of the truck, after making me close my eyes so I won’t know.
    We drive real slow down to the Lobster Pound. I’ve been here a few times, but not in a very long time. It’s