Get Me (The Keatyn Chronicles, #7)

“We have misty toes!” they yell, all of them shoving sad, fake pieces of mistletoe above my head.

“Aye-den, you have to kiss her!” Avery yells.

“Yeah,” I say. “Or someone else might.”

“Who else is going to kiss you?” Ivery asks seriously.

“Me,” Damian says, swooping in, giving me a kiss on the cheek, and stealing their mistletoe. He holds it above Avery and Ivery’s heads, picks them both up, and kisses their cheeks.

Then he says, “Let’s go find Peyton! She needs mistletoe over her so we can kiss!”

As he rushes out of the room with the girls, he tosses a green leaf back at us.

Aiden raises his eyebrows at me. “I need more than a kiss. Any chance we could sneak away, now that the cookies are done?”

I look around. Grandpa is napping in the library. Tommy and Matt are in there, too, drinking scotch and deciding which cigars they want to take outside to smoke. Most of the ladies are still in the kitchen frosting cookies and making gingerbread houses.

“Absolutely,” I say, as he grabs the mistletoe.





When we’re safely locked in my room, Aiden thrusts out his hips and dangles the mistletoe over the Titan.

“I’m surprised he's not tired,” I tease.

“Never. Ever. Will he be tired of you.”

I bend down and place a little kiss on the outside of his pants.

“Hmm. I'm not sure that's what he had in mind,” Aiden says.

I push him backwards onto my chaise—which, after last night, may have to be burned before anyone else can stay in this room—unzip his pants, push my panties to the side and slide onto his lap, causing my naked parts to touch his.

“This or that?” I whisper, as I bite his neck and grind myself into him.

“This. Now,” he says raggedly, his voice filled with desire.

He picks me up by the hips and guides me on top of him in one fluid motion.

“God, you're hot,” he says, his lips finding my shoulder as he tries to go slow.

But I don't want slow.

I want him out of control.

And I'm learning a few tricks of my own.

One of which is letting myself go.

No insecurities about how I look. No trying to script.

Just raw, uncontrollable need.

For him.





The daughter in me.

8pm





After Christmas Eve dinner, which is a formal, sit-down affair in the dining room, we move to the large family room for opening gifts. Because we have multiple families in attendance, the present-opening seems like a bit of a free-for-all. But it’s really fun. I help the girls open the puppet theater I bought them and the trunk full of crazy puppets. They stop opening presents for a bit and do a few shows, oblivious to everything. I watch Tommy open the Panerai Ferrari California Chronograph watch I splurged on. I got a little happy dance and a huge kiss on the cheek for the custom guitar I had made for Damian with pieces of his first album cover airbrushed on it.

When Mom opens the gorgeous diamond Chopard cuff I gave her, she says, “Keatyn, this is beautiful. How did you—” She stops and puts her face in her hand. When she looks up, her eyes are full of tears. She motions with her head for me to come to her.

I drop to my knees on the floor in front of the ottoman she’s perched on, take the bracelet out of the box, and put it on her wrist. “I knew it would fit you perfectly.”

“Your gifts are very extravagant this year.”

I nod, tears filling my own eyes. “I bought the girls each a pair of earrings that match your bracelet. Sam, my financial guy, has them. You know, just in case, like, something would happen. They’re a bit extravagant, too, but let them wear them, okay?”

Mom nods, pulling me into a hug. “With all of us here—with the wedding—I almost forgot about it, you know?”

“Me too. It’s been an amazing few days. I’m so glad I got to be here.”

“Your grandfather told me not to worry, but I overheard him telling Garrett that he is worried.”

“They weren’t talking about me, Mom. I’m going to be fine. I promise,” I lie. “The gifts for the girls aren’t because of Vincent. I just realized life is short. And, if anything happens to me between now and their sixteenth birthdays, I just wanted things to be in order. Grandpa gave me a big trust and I needed to be certain it would all go to them someday. But I hope that I can give them the gifts myself.”

“The mom in me says I should make you take this back.”

“And the daughter in me will be crushed if you do.”

She hugs me again tightly. “I love you, Keatyn.”

“I love you too, Mom. I hope you know that. I know this has been hard on us—that it’s driven us apart. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing will ever keep me from loving you.”

“I’m so sorry I haven’t talked to you more. I was just trying to protect you.”

“I know, Mom. I was, too. Garrett says we’re a lot alike.”

She laughs. “We are, but you have your father’s stubbornness.”

“And his eyes,” Grandma Douglas adds, joining our hug. “You both need to take care of yourselves. You understand me?”