Page 245 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

“Merry Christmas, darlin’. You’re the best gift I’ve ever received.”

“Merry Christmas, Vinny. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

67

SIENNA

It’s two hours later when we get to my parents’ house—almost an hour later than Mom told us to be here for.

My stomach is in knots, and I keep lifting my hand to where I know the angry hickeys Calvin’s left on my skin last night are. I’ve covered them, and I know that every time I touch them, I’m potentially wiping away the makeup that’s hiding them, but my anxiety won’t stop me. Shame it didn’t stop me from screwing his brains out all morning.

When he took me in the shower, I assumed it would be a one-time thing and that we’d be here when we should have been. But then round one in the shower turned into him eating me out on the bathroom counter, and then round two back on the bed. Then we needed to shower again, and then reality hit me, and I looked at the clock. It was far too late to do anything to fix the situation by then. So, here we are, late and a little ruffled—or at least, I am. When I glance back at Calvin as he follows me toward the front porch, he looks as cool as a cucumber.

“What?” he asks, his brows pinching.

“Why aren’t you nervous?”

"I…uh…I don’t know, actually. Probably all the orgasms. Helped chill me out. Ow.” He laughs when I swat his chest playfully.

“Enough of that. It’s bad enough we have to explain why we’re late.”

He smirks. “I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.”

I frown.

“Oh, come on, darlin’. I flew here to surprise you and then took you to a hotel instead of opting to spend the night under their roof. They know exactly why we’re late.”

My face burns.

“What? You don’t think your parents only ever had sex twice, do you?” He chuckles.

“No,” I mutter. Of course I don’t think that. I just try not to think about it at all.

“Come on. It’ll be fine,” he says, throwing his arm around my shoulders, giving me a supportive squeeze as we move closer to the house.

It’s obvious they’ve been waiting for us, because the second we step foot on the top step, the door opens, and my grinning brother greets us.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here,” he sings happily, pure mischief glittering in his eyes.

“Don’t,” I snap at the same time Calvin sings, “Merry Christmas.”

“Well, someone is happy this morning. Good night?”

I groan as I shove past him and into the house.

“Sienna? Is that you at last?” Mom calls from the kitchen.

“Yes, we’re here.”

“Did you forget how to tell the time, sweetheart?” Dad calls from the living room.

Deep chuckles erupt from behind me, and when I turn back, I discover that they both have matching grins on their faces.

Jesus Christ, if I thought they’d end up ganging up on me, I might not have allowed Calvin to stay.

I walk into the kitchen, just about resisting the need to wrap my hand around my throat to hide the evidence of last night and this morning, and Mom immediately turns knowing eyes on me.