Merry Christmas — or, if you’ve read Holiday Heat: December, Happy National “Kiss the Cook” Day. Please enjoy this very short story from the December book.

Charlie’s kids were spending Christmas Eve night and Christmas morning with their mother this year, which meant that Jeannette had the perfect excuse to come to Columbus — to her future home — and stay at Charlie’s house. Last night he had given her a Christmas spanking, turning her bottom bright-red, in contrast to the forest-green panties she’d worn; this morning, when she woke up, she was still a little sore.

She was also alone in bed. But that wasn’t worrying; she could smell breakfast being cooked. She put on her glasses and put in her hearing aids, went to the bathroom, and then put on a pair of pink socks and a long t-shirt before padding out to the kitchen, where Charlie was just taking a tray of bacon out of the oven.

“Good morning,” he said. “Sleep okay?”

“Always, when I’m with you.” She waited for him to put the tray down and then caught him in a kiss.

Afterward, Charlie smiled. “That was a little more passionate than your average good-morning.”

“Well, it’s National ‘Kiss the Cook’ Day,” Jeannette said, her cheeks a little flushed, “and you’re cooking, so I’m kissing you.” She did so again, and this time Charlie reached down, cupped her backside, and lifted her — she squeaked in surprise — to place her on the kitchen counter. She couldn’t suppress a grin. “You’ve never done that before.”

“Seemed like the right thing to do at the time.” He went over to the coffee maker and poured her a mug; she watched as he added cream and sugar. “Plus,” he said as he handed her the coffee, “I bet you liked it.”

“I did,” she admitted, lifting the mug to her face and breathing in the heat of it. “No one’s ever picked me up like that.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Privately she thought it was because that, even though she was in reasonable shape, she’d been too heavy for her previous partners. But Charlie hadn’t acted like it was a problem to pick her up. “You are going to clean the counter before you put food on it, right?”

“No, I thought your butt would be a good seasoning for dinner later.”

“Ew.” She sipped the coffee; it was just cool enough to drink. “If you don’t do it, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll do it.” He moved to stand in front of her, hands on her bare thighs, spreading them apart. The casually-dominant way he did so brought a welcome tingle, a reminder of what he’d done last night after the spanking. “Have you ever been fucked in the kitchen before?”

Jeannette made a negative sound. “Too messy.”

“Let me worry about that.”

He made as if to kneel in front of her, but she took hold of his shirt. “The bacon’ll get cold,” she cautioned.

“Huh. I suppose you’re right.” He took the mug from her and set it aside so he could kiss her, his hands around her waist. Against her lips, he said: “ask me if I care.”

She didn’t ask.

He didn’t care.