His hands slide around my back, warm and confident, and suddenly I’m pulled flush against him like this is not a drill. His lips brush mine—soft at first, tentative—but then they shift, melt, press. And then…
His tongue.
Penn Radford’s tongue is in my mouth.
And I…
I…like it.
A soft, helpless moan escapes me, and his response is instant. He deepens the kiss, pulling me tighter, until there’s not even air between us. My hands find his bare back, instinctive and greedy, fingers skating over hard muscle and smooth skin, mapping the territory like I plan to move in.
And, uh… he’s definitely not unaffected. Like, visibly.
Is that?—?
Whoa.
My brain is doing backflips while my body is composing a thank-you letter to Santa.
I break the kiss, just barely, breath coming in hot gasps. “Penn?”
He blinks down at me, dazed, lips kiss-swollen, hands still clutching the back of my pajama top like he’s not ready to let go.
“Yeah?” he murmurs.
I lift one trembling finger and point up to the ceiling. “So… is that…” I nod toward the still-buzzing mistletoe alarm. “…causing a rise?”
He glances up, then back down at me, his mouth twitching. “Uh, yeah…” A beat. “…gallbladder.”
4
Penn
Goddamn traitorous motherfucker.
And no, I’m not talking about my gallbladder. Because while we were fake kissing—fake, mind you—that bastard between my legs decided to rise to the damn occasion. No chill. No loyalty. Just pure, shameless betrayal.
And… nothing about that kiss felt like practice.
Not even a little. It felt real. Like warm, sweet, slow-burning real. The kind of kiss that stays on your lips long after it ends. The kind that tastes like seconds.
But nope. Not going there. I’m not here to get tangled up with anyone, especially not someone who is equal parts sexy trouble and sugar-sweet sass. Jaylynn might have a smile that short-circuits my brain and a laugh that lives in my bones, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to catch feelings.
Honestly though, how could I even dream about falling for a woman who hid an elf under my sheets and scared the living crap out of me? Jaylynn thought it was comedy gold. But that’s fine—I’m already plotting my revenge. Something involving glitter. Or googly eyes. Or both.
I’m still grinning like a lunatic as I hurry up Elaine’s walkway, taking the stairs two at a time, and pause outside the house. My old house. The one I grew up in and never quite fit inside. Especially after she remarried. Some of the guys tried. Some didn’t. When they didn’t, it meant keeping my head down and following the rules like I was walking a tightrope over broken glass.
Truth is, I wanted Aunt Elaine to have someone who made her happy. I just didn’t want to be the reason that happiness cracked. So, I stayed quiet. Invisible, even. Anything to avoid being shipped off… wherever unwanted kids go.
But Earl? Earl was the worst of them all. The last of the rotating door of husbands. He showed up during my high school years, and was here when I was trying to make something of myself with the Grizzlies. The day I moved out was the first time I could breathe freely in years. The guy made this house feel like a prison with floral curtains.
Elaine tried. God, she tried. But Earl’s cruelty was quiet—just out of her line of sight. The glares, the digs, the constant reminders that I wasn’t wanted. That I’d never amount to anything. That Elaine only kept me around out of guilt or obligation. And when you hear that enough, especially from someone who’s supposed to be family… you start to believe it.
He didn’t live long enough to see me play in the NHL. Part of me wanted to rub it in. Shove my jersey in his smug face. But the truth is, I probably wouldn’t have done any of that.
Because… maybe… he wasn’t entirely wrong about me being good enough. If I had been, I wouldn’t have been held back so long, and deep down, I still don’t feel like part of the team.
My hand lifts to knock, but the door creaks open before I touch it.