Daddies Taste Better
“Those were perfect.”
“High praise,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss me. “Merry Christmas,” he added, lips curving into a small, private smile against my mouth.
I blinked. Then blinked again.
Christmas.
Holy shit.
I’d completely forgotten.
“Christmas,” I said out loud, half-laughing, half-disbelieving, the word bubbling up like a giggle I couldn’t contain. “Yes, it’s today.”
“Yeah. December twenty-fifth.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Except this year it’s just you and me, with me watching you drool and taking mental pictures for blackmail later every morning.”