Christmas Criminal

14. Nick

14

NICK

Sunday, December 15th

N oelle's knock on my door brings me out of whatever anxious stupor my body devolved into this afternoon after I rushed home from school to clean.

When I asked her to help me put up my tree, I wasn't thinking beyond the possibility of having someone around to put up my tree with . It's a little fantasy that's played in my head ever since my mom died, like I'm waiting for someone special in my life to partake in that particular tradition.

But now that that fantasy is becoming a reality, it feels a lot bigger than I thought it was going to. I mean, sure, it's a little date–

I hope Noelle thinks this is a date.

Fuck, what if she thinks this counts toward her community service hours?

I pause on the stairs, nearly tripping over myself because my brain is suddenly taking all of my processing power and leaving nothing for extraneous limbs like legs.

When I finally make it to the bottom, I take a deep breath. I make a promise to myself that I won't be upset if she wants this to count toward community service hours. I won't be upset if she doesn't want to make out in front of the tree with me. If I end up alone at the end of the night between sheets I washed three times today for good measure in the Downy sensitive skin stuff that works for her, I'll be fine.

When I open the door, she grins at me. All pink cheeks and white teeth atop an oversize scarf that causes her hair to fan out in every direction.

"Come in, come in," I say, gesturing inside.

When she steps inside, I swear I feel a shift in the house. Like she's meant to be here, all smiles and smelling warm and sweet like chocolate and roses.

"Can I take your coat?" I ask, and she shimmies it off, laying her scarf on top of it as she hands it to me.

"Thank you." She smiles as I open the closet along the wall next to us and hang it.

"You're welcome."

Her eyes dip, one hand moving in a circle to gesture at me. "What is all this?"

I shrug. "It's cold out."

"I have never seen you in a sweater. I thought you only owned I heart math shirts and Snow Falls High T-shirts."

I roll my eyes as I turn, motioning for her to follow me down the hall and into the kitchen. "And where's your jumpsuit, Criminal?"

She huffs, and when I turn back to her, her eyes narrow. "What, you don't like my Christmas sweater?"

"I love your Christmas sweater," I tell her, as we round the corner into the kitchen. "Even though it is literally not a Christmas sweater."

Her brow furrows. "It is close to Christmas and I am partaking in a Christmas activity. Therefore, the sweater I'm wearing counts as a Christmas sweater."

I lean against the counter. "Are those the rules?"

"Yes," she says, not missing a beat as she steps toward me and presses herself against me, one hand on my abdomen. "And for what it's worth, I like your Christmas sweater too."

She stands on her toes to kiss me, pressing her lips softly against mine. I rest one hand on her hip, drawing her closer, and she sighs into me, her free hand coming to rest on the counter next to me.

"Sweaters must really do it for you, huh?" I ask against her lips, and she laughs.

She takes a step away from me. "What can I say? Every girl has their thing. Although I think the I heart math T-shirts are still my favorite."

I raise my eyebrows. "And here I was, thinking you thought I was a total nerd."

She shrugs. "I guess I like nerds."

For a moment, we grin stupidly at each other.

And then I remember that the pretty girl isn't just here to be ogled.

I clear my throat. "Um, I have red and white wine if you want. Or sparkling water." I reach behind me, tugging the plate of extra dark chocolate-covered berries I made earlier closer. "And I wasn't sure exactly what ratios your sister uses for chocolate berries, but I did my best with these."

Her brow furrows as she looks down at them. "You made me my favorite Christmas treat?"

"I mean, like I said, I didn't know the ratios. But I tried, so let me know if I should do something different next time." I almost say next Christmas but stop myself.

"Wow," she says, plucking one off the plate and popping it into her mouth. A grin spreads across her face as she chews. "Mm, raspberry. They're my favorite." She stands on her toes to kiss my cheek. "Thank you, Nick. That was so sweet of you."

I nod, a blush spreading across my cheeks. "Of course." I clear my throat. "I mean, I know your favorite Christmas activity is rage-eating chocolate-covered things while other people make Christmas happen, so I figured the least I could do is prepare your favorite snack.”

"Nick! I'm not going to come over to help you put up your tree and watch you do it!"

I shrug. "I don't need the help. I just... I guess it never felt right putting up a tree by myself. So if you want to be all growly and eat your treats, go ahead. Just do me a favor and bend over while you do it."

She lets out a surprised laugh. "You're secretly naughty," she says, accusing me with one finger.

"I don't think it's really a secret."

"No?"

I grimace. That didn't sound great . "I mean, I put up a bit of a shield at school or around town, you know? I make sure that if there's a kid around to hear or see, I don't do or say anything that I wouldn't want them telling their parents about. It's easier that way."

She nods. "That sounds like it could get a little lonely."

I shrug. "It can, but lonely is a hell of a lot better than having the wrong company."

She's quiet for a moment before she nods. "Yeah, I think I would have to agree with that."

I let out a long breath, shaking my head. "So, you should probably head out," I say, mock seriously.

She knocks my elbow, laughing, and I wrap her up in my arms again, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Please. You're so excited to be putting up your tree with me."

She leans away from me to see my face, and I take the opportunity to nod sincerely. "I really am."

She swallows, quiet for a moment.

"So, can I get you a drink?"

"Red wine?"

I nod, kissing her cheek as I twist her hips to one side so I can grab two glasses from the cabinet above our heads. I pour us each a glass and lead her into the living room.

"Wow, I think this room was made for Christmas," she says, her eyes wandering along the big bay window where I was planning on setting up the tree and the fireplace I lit a few minutes before she got here. With the Christmas music playing low in the background, it feels like a holiday in here.

"Yeah, that's kind of what I thought when I bought the place," I tell her, resting my wine on the coffee table in front of the leather couch. She does the same, following me as I round the Christmas tree box I pulled out of the attic earlier today. I pull open one of the flaps as Noelle kneels down next to it.

I pull out the stand and center it below the window. Noelle grabs the tree skirt and wraps it around the base, smiling up at me when she's done.

"Is that how you like it?" she asks, and the words send a jolt of fire right down my spine because I’ve imagined asking her that same thing in a situation involving much less clothing.

But I only nod, swallowing thickly. "That's perfect."

We attach the main pole to the stand and move slowly in a circle, matching each piece by color to its appropriate spot.

It's surprisingly easy with her. We work well together.

We take breaks for small sips of wine and little kisses that inspire thoughts that would definitely put me on the naughty list.

"So what made you decide to put up a tree this year, if you normally don't?"

I let out a long breath, shrugging because I might as well tell her the truth if we're here, doing it together.

"You."

She cocks her head to the side, her fingers pausing as her eyes find mine. "Me?"

I nod. "I never wanted to put up a Christmas tree on my own, but when I met you, I thought that I might like to do it with you."

She raises her eyebrows. "That's really sweet."

I shrug, my cheeks heating. I knew that was going to happen. "It's the truth." I press my lips together as I fan out another branch and connect it to the main one. I can feel Noelle's eyes on me, like her focus is branding my skin. "There was a point in my life where I thought all I really wanted was someone to, for lack of a better term, put the tree up with."

She sits cross-legged on the ground, abandoning her branch next to her and reaching for her wine.

"Over time, I think I realized that it's not about putting up the tree , per se, but how you put up the tree. Who you put up the tree with ."

She bites her lip. "And you wanted to put up your tree with me."

I attach the piece I've been working on and turn to her, feeling sheepish about this roundabout way of telling her I desperately want her. "Yes."

"I love that," she says, resting her wine on the coffee table and crawling over to me. She sits right in front of me, her knee touching mine. "And also, I think that's the absolutely corniest way a man has ever told me he used to be less discerning but has... found the holiday spirit. "

I can't help the laugh that escapes me as she tugs on my neck, bringing my face to hers. She presses her lips against mine as I wrap an arm around her back, pulling her against my chest. I lick at the seam of her lips and she parts for me, a small moan escaping her throat that has all of my muscles taut and ready to go full caveman on her.

When she pulls away from me, she's still grinning. She takes a sip of her wine and returns to the branch she had been fluffing, notching it into place.

"So Mr. Monroe, the goodie two-shoes math teacher, isn’t a one-night kind of guy," she mocks, her eyes flashing with delight as she pulls another branch out of the box.

I laugh before letting out a sigh. "How did I know saying that would come back to bite me in the ass?"

She cackles, one hand coming up to cover her mouth. "Come on, it's so good. You wear your little I heart math shirts around and then invite me over to put up your tree ," she says, using air quotes. "You really are a secret naughty boy."

I shoot her a look. "Keep talking like that and I'll show you what it means to be naughty."

Her eyes flash. "Oh, I like this side of the math teacher. Sweet and spicy, all in one."

I shake my head. "Drink your wine and fluff your branch."

She starts laughing again, snickering into her forearm as she works on the branch. "Now all I can think about is every naughty tree euphemism I've ever heard. I mean, 'fluff your branch’? Mr. Monroe, the children!"

I can't help but laugh along with her. "To be fair, every single time I mention 'putting up the tree' at this point, I have to stop myself from saying 'erecting the tree.'"

She laughs harder, one hand over her chest as her eyes pinch shut.

This is what I want my Christmases to look like. Laughter, red wine, and someone like Noelle fluffing my branch.

It feels so easy.

Once the tree is erected , I pull out the ornaments and we move in a slow circle, arranging them one by one, together. It's indulgent, almost, the way we so lazily pick out one ornament and find the exact right place for it together. Even though I'm pretty sure neither of us are paying attention to where it goes. I hold the box as she picks them, holding each one gently as if they're all special in their own way.

And I suppose they are. Most of them were my mom's. Some are family heirlooms. Some I don't even recognize but I can tell by the styling that they're at least fifty years old.

"This one is cute," she says, picking up a simple white one with a cartoon image of a woman and her little boy looking out over a field of Christmas trees. "I bet your mom got this one."

"That or it was gifted to her. She wasn't shy about her love for the holiday so she was always easy to buy for. Anything Christmas-themed she would swoon over and you could bet you'd see it again like clockwork the second Thanksgiving was over. Honestly, I think she displayed every Christmas item she had every year."

Noelle's brow furrows. "That sounds like an awful lot of Christmas."

I nod. "It was suffocating at times, honestly." I shrug. "I ended up throwing out a lot of her Christmas stuff–I couldn't manage all of it and half of it I didn't even recognize. But I kept the stuff that I know she truly loved. And anything that I really liked, of course."

"Of course," Noelle agrees. She places the ornament right in the front of the tree, running her thumb along the bottom of it before turning back to the box and grabbing another. "That's really nice. Precious, almost, these things that you kept."

"It's always bothered me that I don't display them every year. It's nice that I can this year."

She gives me a quick grin. "All because of me. You're welcome, Nick Monroe."

"Thank you, Noelle Adler, for granting me my Christmas wish," I say, shooting her a quick wink.

She plucks another ornament out of the box. "What else are you wishing for this Christmas?"

You, naked .

I shrug. "This is all I really need."

She nods, digesting this. "Me too, I think."

"Yeah?"

She places the ornament near the top, off to the side. "Yeah. This feels really comfortable. Very different from the way my mom and sister do it, which always has this undercurrent of, like, anxiety to it. Like, they try so hard that it kind of takes away the joy of it. I mean, I think they enjoy it. But it feels overwhelming to me. And kind of just... fake, I guess. I hate saying it about something they obviously care so much about, but this feels so good . To take our time putting up a Christmas tree. There's no checklist or required cookie-making or snowmen everywhere. No false pretenses about having one big happy family."

I reach out to straighten a branch that we must have missed. "That bothers you a lot, doesn't it? The forced family time?"

She shrugs. "I wish it didn't. I wish I could show up and go with the flow, but my sister always tries to drag my dad into things but gets upset when he prioritizes his new family. My mom always tries to calm her down, like she's constantly in defense mode to pick up the pieces when she's inevitably disappointed." She laughs. "I guess that's where I get it from, that defensiveness that pushes me to make a problem before a problem even occurs." She shakes her head. "That's literally what happens between my mom and sister, every year. My mom sees the future, acts too soon, and they end up in a fight while my sister goes off to find some disappointment anyway."

I crinkle my nose. "I'm sorry. I get how that could make things difficult around the holidays."

She sighs. "Yeah." She's quiet for a second. "I can see why some people really love the holidays, though." I raise my eyebrows as she arranges another ornament. " This kind of holiday, I think I like."

Noelle likes holidays with me . My chest swells, and I take a deep breath to ward off the warm fuzzy feelings that are threatening to take over.

I bite my lip, sure I'm about to get elbowed. "I'm glad I can be your own personal Saint Nick."

She presses her eyes closed, her laughter spilling out despite herself. "Nick!"

"Come on, you teed that one up for me."

She shakes her head, elbowing me lightly so she doesn't knock the box of ornaments in my arms. "You're corny."

I throw her a grin. "You love it."

She purses her lips, doing her best to glare at me before turning back to the tree.

And she plucks one ornament after another, slowly filling in the tree as Christmas music plays in the background. We settle into an easy rhythm, talking and joking as we move in a semi-circle around the tree.

And eventually, another glass of wine later, it's full.

"Do you want to do the honors?" I ask, grabbing the end of the string of lights and holding it out to her.

She raises her eyebrows. "You want me to light your tree?" she asks, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

I nod as I leave the empty box on the coffee table and grab our wine glasses. "You want a refill?"

"I'll wait until you're back," she says, waving the end of the cord as she kneels on the ground next to the socket.

I head into the kitchen to refill our glasses, and on my way back, I hit the lights in the living room. We can see enough in the dim light from the streetlights outside.

I rest our glasses on the coffee table and sit down in front of it, my back up against the wood.

"Ready?" she asks, eyebrows high.

I nod. "Light me up, Criminal."

She snorts as she turns to the socket, and the room is bathed in the soft white light from the Christmas tree.

She looks up at it for a moment before turning to me with a big grin on her face.

"So?" she asks, crawling toward me.

And fuck, if that's not sensual, I don't know what is.

She sits next to me and I throw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Her cheek hits my shoulder as her arms wind around my middle.

"What do you think?" she asks, her voice soft. She tips her head up to look at me. "Did I do good?"

I nod, my fingers grazing her chin as I tip her face up toward mine. I nod as our lips brush. "You did really fucking good."

Her eyes flash. "Language, Mr. Monroe."

I laugh, kissing her again and tugging on her bottom lip with my teeth. A strangled sound escapes her throat that has me laser-focused on the way her body presses into mine. The way the light from the tree is reflected in her eyes.

She sits up straighter, one hand resting on the back of my neck and tugging me closer.

And I can't help my hands. The one under her chin dips to her ribs, my thumb grazing the edge of her bra through her sweater. The other wraps around her back, my fingers spreading across the fabric and drifting lower.

She inches closer, her leg pressing against mine as she wraps her arms around my neck, the hem of her sweater lifting underneath my palm and exposing warm, smooth skin. I slip my hand underneath, and her back arches to the touch.

So fucking responsive to me.

She lets out a breathy moan that sends a little zip of fire down my spine.

And then I'm wrapping one hand around her knee, tugging her into my lap and taking hold of her ass, placing her just the way I want her. Straddling me, her stomach pressed right up against mine.

She moans again, the sound vibrating all through her body, and I run my hands along her hips, squeezing her tight like I can memorize the curves of her body.

I run my hands up under her sweater again, exploring the delicate taper of her waist. The way she sucks in a breath when my thumbs move against her ribs. Her hips move ever so slightly–almost imperceptibly–and I can't help the grin that spreads across my face.

This girl wants me as much as I want her.

"Nick," she says as she breaks our kiss. Her voice is all breathy and low and it makes me want to tear her out of her clothes, bend her over and take her .

But I don't want to rush this. Noelle is something special. I want to savor this. Savor her.

She lowers her head, her lips brushing against my jaw. She loves kissing me there, and it drives me absolutely wild. My muscles bunch and release as I struggle to keep hold of myself. She continues along my neck, and I brush her hair out of her face, relishing in the feel of her lips on me.

I let out a groan as she nips at me, my hands moving down along her back until I have two palms full of ass. I squeeze, and suddenly the gentle movement of her hips against me isn't so gentle anymore.

She moves against me, her hands dipping beneath my sweater and brushing across my chest. She moans, her lips finding mine again as she rocks against me.

"Noelle," I say, keeping one hand on her ass and covering hers with the other.

She hums in response.

"Slow down there, Criminal. You're going to get yourself off before I even get the chance to taste you."