Tangled in Tinsel (Holidates #1)(57)

“I like you used.”

But I don’t answer. I just hollow out my cheeks and start to suck him off.

Because the truth is, I like me used too.





twenty-two





“Hedonism is my new life aesthetic.”





“We couldn’t do this shit in the living room?” Reed grumbles, scowling at the space behind me on the bed taken by Cole, who’s spooning me.

“You can,” I snark, holding my hands out for the bowl of popcorn he’s holding, adding, “No one’s stopping you. I wanted to watch a movie. That didn’t mean everyone had to come.”

Reed rolls his eyes, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth before he hands me the bowl. He sits on the bed, reaching out and tugging me from Cole’s hold. I plop onto my back before he lays his head down on my stomach.

I laugh, hearing Cole’s huff, but I make it go away, wrapping my hand around his thigh, lifting my head, saying, “Arm, please,” before feeling him slide it underneath.

“What’s the name of this trash again?” Reed interjects, so I flick his ear, making him laugh.

“It’s not trash. It’s a cute Christmas movie about an innkeeper who’s down on his luck until he meets a woman staying there, and then they fall in love.”

“Sunshine, you’re telling me I’m supposed to believe he’s some small-town guy when that inn would value for well over two million dollars in this market. Dumb,” he answers, grabbing my hand before I can injure him again, and brings it to his chest.

I counter as he nibbles the side of my palm, “Oh my god. It’s romantic, Grinch. And that doesn’t always mean realism. Because, see, it’s fiction.”

“Clearly,” Cole teases. “It says the heroine is a high-powered lawyer…trying to make partner…but takes an impromptu vacation to reassess her life. Unlikely. More like she’s there for a hostile takeover.”

“You’re a hostile takeover of my joy.” I laugh. “Just shut up immediately. Because we’re watching it. So zip it.”

Jace chuckles, sitting at my feet, pulling them onto his lap as he extends a glass of wine my way, making my eyes light up.

“Oooo, yes, wine please. I love you.”

What the fuck did I say?

I blink, stunned by my own words. I didn’t mean that I loved him. Obviously, but it’s awkward now that his dick’s been in my ass.

“Ummm,” I say, cutting the silence. “I didn’t mean…I mean…” I take a breath, feeling my cheeks heat. “That’s not what it sounded like…come on, that would be grounds for a restraining order. I meant it as much as when I say it to the guy at the deli because he saves me one of those extra-large pickles. You know what I mean.”

I don’t know why I even tried to explain because I can already tell what’s about to happen.

Jace crosses his arms, his brows pulling together as he pretends to be mad.

“So, you’re saying you tell every guy who feeds you an extra-large pickle that you love him?”

Oh my god. I squeeze my eyes closed for a second before I stare up at the ceiling, knowing they’ll never let me live this down.

Cole dips his head toward me. “I’m hurt and frankly disappointed. You don’t think my pickle is extra-large? You’re a cruel woman.”

Reed rolls his head toward me, a combination of mischief and bullshit written all over his stupidly gorgeous face. “And to think I thought you liked choking on my pickle.”

I shake my head, kicking at Jace as I laugh. “I hate you guys. But you know what? You deserve to know that Francis owns my heart because his pickle puts all of you to shame. And it’s the only one I’ve never faked choking on.”

I start laughing because they all make a move like they’re gearing up to pounce, but before they can, Alec walks in on his cell, grabbing our collective attention as he speaks.

“We’re stocked here, so I’m not too worried. But I appreciate the call, Chief.”

He hangs up, looking at the four of us cozy on the bed, and holds up the phone as if to relay who he was speaking to.

“Fire chief letting us know they won’t be clearing the roads tomorrow as expected.”

Wow. Tomorrow’s already Monday. A tiny frown forms on my mouth. Weekend’s over.

Alec sits in the chair next to the bed, propping his feet on the mattress.

“What the hell are we watching?”

I’m staring into space, hearing one of the guys answering him before my head turns, my eyes lagging as I face him—another thought brewing.

“When do they expect to clear the roads?”

He takes a swig of his drink before he answers me.

“They’re aiming for Wednesday, gorgeous. Because more snow is expected tomorrow and Tuesday.”

Oh no. I don’t say that aloud. At least, I thought I didn’t until four voices sound off at the same time saying the same thing.

“What’s wrong?”

I shrug, feeling silly, but I answer anyway, “Tuesday’s the eve of Christmas Eve.”

“Or the 23rd, as the rest of the world knows it,” Reed offers with a chuckle, but I click my tongue against my front teeth.