Part 3

No matter how carefully you plan, the final days before Christmas are always dead-ass crazy. Time goes by in a blur of wrapping, working, grocery shopping and grabbing last minute gifts that you meant to buy a month ago. Heather’s family is in New Mexico and since she didn’t go home this year either, our Christmas Day plan is to cook a small ham and spend the day in fuzzy socks and pajamas watching cheesy holiday movies on the Hallmark channel.

Most likely, while feeling tremendously hungover.

Because . . . the Christmas Eve party at the Black Diamond Bar.

It’s a tradition, a total blowout—an awesome bash. Jace spares no expense. Top shelf liquor, tons of food catered by The Willow, one of the best restaurants in Colorado, and all kinds of sweet, beautifully decorated treats from Flo’s Bakery. It’s an invite-only party—open to employees, locals, regulars and their families.

That’s where I am now, looking goddamn adorable, if I do say so myself.

I’m wearing my “I like big balls” t-shirt, snug black jeans, high boots, dangly green jingle-bell earrings, and a fur-trimmed red Santa hat over my long, glossy, straightened hair.

I’m out on the dancefloor, shaking my groove-thing with little Charlie Butters Jr, to Ryan and his band’s punk version of Silent Night. It’s a pretty cool rendition, but not easy to dance to—so Charlie and I basically just bob our heads and jump around a lot. When the song ends, the band leads right into a rock-n-rollasized Up on the Rooftop. Heather dances just behind me, swaying her head, arms raised, giving Ryan the “I’m going to screw your brains out later” look as he sings.

It turns out Ryan didn’t want to date me at after all. He asked me out to get my opinion on what I thought Heatherwould think, about him wanting to date her.

And now they are. Dating, that is.

The relationship is only about 24 hours old, but it’s looking pretty solid so far.

When the song ends, I fan my face—trying to cool off. My mouth is dry and my t-shirt is sticky with moisture. I tell Charlie that I’m going to grab a drink and he gives me a thumbs-up before dancing over to his parents.

I feel giddy and light as I walk across the room . . . right into the tractor beam that is Jace’s gaze. He’s leaning back behind the bar, watching the party, wearing jeans and a dark blue Henley that molds to his sculpted arms in an amazing way.

“Hey,” I call softly when I reach him.

He lifts his chin. “Another vodka and cranberry?”

It’s my third, so I’m buzzing but nowhere near drunk.

“Yeah, thanks.”

A minute later I sip my drink and watch Jace—still my top favorite thing to do.

“Everything going okay?” I ask.

He takes a long pull from his beer—I didn’t think I’d ever be so jealous of a bottle.

“I’m good.”

“You’ve been . . . kind of quiet,” I say.

It’s not like he’s normally Mr. Sharer or anything, but the last few days Jace has kept to himself a lot. He’s seemed almost contemplative. Broody.

But still very, very hot.

He gives me a lazy shrug.

“Just thinking about some things.”

My vodka buzz pulls my lips into a teasing smile.

“Oh yeah? What kind of things?”

The music starts up again—this time from the stereo, because the band’s on a break—and Dean Martin’s smooth Baby It’s Cold Outside, fills the room.

Jace’s mouth quirks.

“Naughty things.”

And I almost swallow my tongue. No one around here has mentioned the Naughty List, so I’ve pushed any potential embarrassment from my mind. Until now.

“What?” I choke.

He leans in closer.

“I said, all sorts of interesting things.”

Oh. Right.

Of course, that’s what he said—that makes so much more sense.

“Do you mind staying to help me clean up later, Eves? Kevin already took off and Heather and Ryan seem kind of . . .”

I follow his gaze toward the back of the bar—where my roommate and Ryan are plastered hot and heavy against the wall, putting the mistletoe hanging above their heads to excellent use.

“Busy.” I finish for him.

Jace snorts. “Yeah.”

Hmm . . . extra alone time with Jace Winters? Looks like I got an early Christmas present.

“Sure, no problem.”

He nods slowly, and his eyes seem deeper, darker, more intense.

“Good.”

The families with kids head out first—it is Christmas Eve, after all. By midnight, the Black Diamond is empty except for me and Jace. While he straightens up out front, I bring the trays of leftover food to the kitchen, sliding them into the fridge. I wash up a few serving utensils and wipe down the stainless-steel counters, and when that’s finished I walk back out to the main room.

The lights have been turned down—the only illumination coming from the warm glow of the fireplace, the Christmas lights on the tree, and twinkling white lights strung behind the bar. The festive music is gone, replaced by the soft, sultry sounds of Amos Lee coming from the jukebox.

Set in the middle of the bar is a rectangular box, wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with an emerald green bow.

“What’s this?” I ask Jace.

He drags down the shade on the big picture window, making the room feel even more cozy and secluded—like we’re the only two people in Alpine. The only two people in the world.

“That’s for you, Evie. A present.”

I smile—little sparks of excitement dancing across my skin. We all exchange gifts every year—thoughtful tokens or playful gag gifts. I always look forward to Jace’s. The idea that he was thinking of me when he picked it out is a thrilling thing.

He edges closer as I tug at the silk bow, peel off the paper and lift the lid of the box.

But when I peer inside, my stomach flips and falls, my face goes slack and my hands go numb.

Because The Naughty List is staring right back at me.

My words, my fantasies—Jace’s name written by my hand.

And suddenly he’s right beside me, his heat and scent surrounding me, his voice a rough rasp in my ear.

“Is it true, Evie?”

My heart pounds so hard I can almost hear it. And my breath comes quick, racing.

“Which part?” I ask.

“Any of it. All of it. Is it true?”

Part of me wants to melt into the floor under the hot glare of my embarrassment, like a snow-woman on a sunny day. But another part—a stronger part—wants to go for it. Go for him. To take a chance, make the jump, bare my soul.

Grab him and kiss him and tear at his clothes and tell him every fucking word is true.

And if he doesn’t feel the same? If I have to work here beneath the cloud of unrequited love—or worse—if Jace tells me I can’t work here anymore, because it would be too awkward . . . well . . . then at least I’ll know.

So I straighten my shoulders, and lift my chin, and look him right in his beautiful, midnight-blue eyes.

“Yes, it’s true. All of it. It’s been true for a long time. And if—”

Jace’s mouth comes down over mine. Hungry and hard and desperate.

It’s a kiss meant to claim. To own. To say Christmas is no longer a time for giving—it’s time to take.

And I’m his for the taking. I have been all along.

My soul sings and I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing against him. Jace’s hand delves into my hair, clutching and possessive, holding me where he wants me as he ravages my mouth.

He moves us backward, toward the bar and his mouth slides down my jaw, teeth scraping.

“Jace,” I pant. “What—”

He presses his finger against my lips, silencing my words. “No talking, baby. We’ll talk later, not now. The only words I want to hear out of your mouth now are yes, and more and my fucking name. Okay?”

And I’m really, really good with that.

I nod. “Yes.”

He stops then, and smiles at me. And despite the hungry look in his eyes, the smile is sweet and tender and loving. And every cell in my body lights up with the warmth and joy of this moment.

His strong hands lift me up onto the bar. He steps between my legs, cupping my face. Then there are more kisses, more lashing tongue and sucking lips—more taste of Jace, filling up every needy crevice inside me, making me moan.

My shirt is ripped off over my head. My bra is yanked off my shoulders—my breasts spilling free, baring me to his eyes. Jace steps back, his chest rising and falling with each deep rapid breath.

My first instinct is to cover myself. Because, I’m on the thin side—so to me, my boobs have never been my best asset. But the way Jace is looking at me keeps my arms right where they are. Because he’s looking at me like I’m perfect.

Like I’m the gift he wanted more than any other.

He moves forward and cups my breasts in his two hands, bending his head, laving the pale globes with his tongue and groaning against my skin.

“These tits . . . Jesus, you have no idea. Fucking years.”

The words are jagged and stuttered—but I understand their meaning. He likes my breasts.

A lot.

His mouth covers my nipple and he assaults the tight bud with harsh, relentless sucks. Sensation spikes up my spine and I gasp loudly.

I reach for his shirt, pulling it up. “Jace . . . Jace, I want . . . let me touch you.”

He doesn’t make me wait. Jace unlatches his mouth from my breast and pulls his shirt over his head—revealing ripples of taut, tan skin and the dark swirls of a tribal art tattoo across his pec.

And I almost come from the sight alone.

I skim my hands across his warm chest, down his abs, kissing and licking wherever I can reach. But then he’s stepping back, moving away, grabbing something from behind the bar.

It’s a bottle. A green bottle of champagne.

He sets it beside me, then tugs off my boots and in one swift move, strips off my jeans and lace panties. Leaving me bare on the bar.

His eyes meet mine—and he gives me a filthy smile that makes me shudder with anticipation. “Don’t have time to melt chocolate. We’ll save that for New Year’s Eve.” He reaches for the bottle, twisting the wire and popping the cork with a bang that sends white, liquid foam surging out. “This’ll do for now.”

The next several minutes of my life are filled with alternating gasps, squeals and moans—as Jace pours the cold, bubbling champagne over my body—my shoulders, my breasts, down my stomach, between my legs . . . and then he drinks up every fucking drop. Licking each trace from my heated skin. He’s very thorough.

Then he stands and brings the bottle to my lips.

“Open.”

He pours champagne into my mouth and I swallow, but not fast enough. It dripples from the corner of my lips and onto my chin.

And Jace’s eyes glow with wonderful, dirty ideas. He pulls me forward, kissing my mouth and sucking the champagne from my tongue.

Then he brings me to my feet. But not for long.

“On your knees, Evie.”

If I had any doubt that Jace read every word of my naughty list—those doubts are gone. Holding his eyes, I sink to my knees.

With sure, strong hands, Jace unbuckles his belt and takes out his cock. I only have seconds to admire it—but what I see makes me so hot and wet, I feel moisture coating my inner thighs. He’s thick and long, smooth and beautiful—a hard, delicious looking dick.

He taps my cheek with the broad, round head.

“Suck it like you mean it.”

His abrasive tone scorches a line of heat right to my pussy. And he doesn’t have to tell me twice. I open my mouth and Jace pushes between my lips. I suck and lick, stroke and worship him with all four years of pent-up lust and adoration.

When he pulls out, pulls away, I literally whimper.

Before I know what’s happening, he’s crouched beside me—tying my hands behind my back with the green ribbon from my present. Not so tight that I couldn’t get free—but snug enough so I feel it. So I feel helpless. At his mercy and under his control.

Jace stands back in front of me, his legs shoulder width apart. His hand slides up the back of my neck, gripping my hair.

“Open your mouth wide and relax your throat. I want to fuck it.”

Yes. More. Please.

He fills my mouth, pushing all the way back, nudging my throat and blocking my airway. I gag once and he retreats. He pushes in again, pressing me forward. I gag again and spit dribbles out from my lips, cooling on my chin.

“Easy, baby.” Jace coos. “Let it happen. I’ve got you.”

This time, when he thrusts in, I don’t resist. I let go, give in, and his cock tunnels all the way down my throat. He thrusts twice, then pulls out so I can suck in air, then he re-enters.

When he goans, I feel like a queen. “Oh yeah. So fucking good, Evie. So good.”

Then he’s lifting me under my arms, spinning me around, pressing his bare chest to my back, my still-tied arms trapped between our bodies.

“I was going to tell you I was spanking your ass for not saying you wanted me sooner.” He whispers as he tugs his jeans all the way off. “But,” he growls, “I don’t need a reason to spank this ass.” He grips one cheek in his palm, fingers digging and I jump. From surprise and excitement. “Say stop if you want me to stop. But you won’t because you’re gonna love it.”

He’s not wrong.

The first slap of his rough hand on my ass shocks more than it hurts. But the next one stings. And by the third, I know Jace isn’t playing one bit. By the sixth smack, my ass burns and I know it must be bright pink. Excitement and dirty bliss pulse through me. I feel wild and decadent, powerful and amazing.

“Do you like it?” Jace asks.

“I love it,” I sigh.

He finishes with an even ten—then he’s turning me again. Leaning me back, resting my elbows on the bar, so my pelvis is arched forward.

Jace reaches down and presses his fingers—feels like three—into my pussy. “This sweet cunt is soaked. I might drown when I eat you.”

He drops to his knees and I forget to breathe.

“Can’t think of a better way I’d rather go out.”

And his mouth is on me. Sucking and licking—thrusting inside with his tongue—flicking my swollen clit over and over. My hands strain against the ribbon because I want to grip his hair, hold onto him—but I can’t. All I can do is take it.

Take all he’s giving.

With a loud cry I come writhing against his mouth. The hot, white pleasure surges through me, pounding hard, making me feel like I’m flying. Falling. Falling for him even more than I already have.

When the last of my orgasm settles, Jace only gives me a second to recover. He pulls on the ribbon, releasing my hands, spins me around and guides my palms onto the bar. Bending me over, I feel his cock at my entrance.

Then he’s pushing inside—full and hard. He’s so big, too big—stretching me almost to the point of pain, which makes the pleasure more intense.

“So fucking tight,” he growls.

He grips my shoulders and fucks me in relentless strokes that push me forward, jingling my earrings, with every thrust. Jace growls filthy words behind me—about how wet my pussy is, how good it feels, my perfect ass, how he’s wanted me for fucking years. His fingers cup between my legs in the front, rubbing my clit, then I feel them sliding between the globes of my ass, slick with my own juices. His fingers slide up and down over that tight entrance—teasing—warning.

And it’s so much. Too much. Too much feeling.

“Wait…oh…yes…”

But Jace knows I can take it. He knows I’ll love it.

So when he pushes one finger into my ass—twisting it—another orgasm rips through me with the force of a runaway train. And I come again—screaming against the wood of the bar.

I’m weightless, spent, my bones too liquid to hold me up. Jace pulls out, turns me around and lifts me—wrapping my legs around his waist. He holds me tight and walks us towards the fireplace, kissing me like a dying man. Gently, he lays me on the dark, warm rug—the downy softness of the pelt cradles and soothes my skin.

And then he’s over me—pressing inside me again—loving my lips with his mouth, caressing my face with tender hands. The thrusts of his hips are steady and deep now, plunging in and out in firm, even strokes.

“I want to come inside you, Evie,” Jace whispers against my lips. “There hasn’t been anyone else, not since I first met you. I’m clean.” He groans. “Can I make you mine? Can I come inside you?”

And it’s like we’re one heartbeat, one soul—one dirty, beautiful mind.

I lock my ankles around his back and dig my fingers into his shoulder blades. Begging, pleading for what we both want.

“Yes…yes…oh please, yes…”

Jace surges forward, planting his length so deep it touches my womb. And then his cock jerks inside me over and over—and I feel the hot pulse of him filling me up—while he presses his mouth against my neck, moaning my name again and again.

A little while later, Jace and I lay on the bearskin rug in front of the fire that’s burned down low.

The rug-on-the-floor combo is surprisingly comfortable. Usually fantasy details don’t turn out as well as we imagine—in real life bugs bite, sand itches, water goes cold.

But this time, every detail is perfect. Better than I’d dreamed.

I lay on my back, sticky and sore in all the right places, and Jace rests his head on his hand, beside me, above me, running his fingers through my hair and across my bare skin.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” he asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m kind of shy, I guess.”

The beautiful mouth smirks—and my favorite dimple makes an appearance.

“You weren’t so shy when you were coming on my tongue a few minutes ago.”

I laugh. “That’s different. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

He sighs, thinking about it. Then he leans down and presses his warm lips to my chest, my collarbone—working his way up with every few words.

“Well . . . you were kind of young when you first showed up here. I wanted to give you some time to have fun before I settled you down.”

I smile, running my hands through the silk of his hair.

“But then, when you seemed ready for what I wanted—I realized I was your boss. And I knew you needed this job and I didn’t want to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable.”

I laugh again, skimming my palms over the hard swells of his biceps, tracing his tattoo with my finger. I can’t believe I get to touch him like this—as much as I want.

Best. Fucking. Christmas. Ever.

“You never would’ve made me feel uncomfortable, Jace.”

He pecks at my lips. “But I had to be sure. It was fucking torture, but I knew, if it was gonna happen with us—you were gonna have to make the first move.”

I lean up and give him a real kiss, stroking his tongue with mine until a thick groan vibrates in his throat, and his cock stiffens against my hip. When I pull back, I can still taste him on my lips.

“I’m going to buy Heather something huge.” I say. “Oh and her pervy professor—he gets a present too, for coming up with that naughty list idea.”

Jace moves on top of me, between my legs, bracing his weight on my forearms, brushing my hair back as he gazes down at me with a mix of sweet tenderness and hot want.

“I came up with my own list.” He confesses. “After I read yours.”

“Your own Naughty List?”

“Mine’s more of a Nice List. All very, very nice things,” he says as he slowly thrusts his hips, grinding against me, making me wet and panting for him.

“Tell me.”

“The first item was get some balls and find a way to tell Evie how you feel about her.”

I reach down between us, cupping and stroking those hot, heavy balls.

“Mission accomplished there.” I tease.

Jace’s hips thrust harder, his cock sliding up and down through my wetness, rubbing my clit.

“After that it was fuck Evie everyway possible.” His eyes are dark blue as he looks down at me and his voice is raw and hungry. “That’s going to be an ongoing process.”

I spread my legs wider for him and Jace positions himself at my opening, before thrusting in deep, making me gasp, my back arching.

“And the last thing was,” he rasps as he starts to fuck me, “run the bar with her, marry the shit out of her, have 3.5 kids and a Husky named Nanuk with her. Make a life with her. A beautiful life.”

I don’t know if it’s his words or the steady, deep pounding of his cock inside me, but with a moan I come—clasping him to me, clenching all around him—so, so good.

Jace isn’t too far behind, and a few minutes later I’m a little more sore and sticky than I was before.

I look up at him, catching my breath. “Nanuk, huh?”

He grins. “Nanuk is the best name for a Husky. Everybody knows that.”

“I really like Snowbell.”

Jace nods. “Then we’ll have two.”

And I’m so happy. I didn’t know I could be this happy—the feeling swells in my chest and brings tears to my eyes.

“I love you, Jace,” I whisper.

“I love you, Evie,” he whispers back, and I know it’s true.

The Christmas tree lights cast soft colored shadows on the floor and the snow falls silently outside. Jace rolls to the side, taking me with him, holding me close as I snuggle into his arms.

“Merry Christmas, Jace.”

He kisses my forehead.

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

January 1st may still be a few days away, but this night here—this is the start of our new beginning, our new life, together.

The End