Three.

Amy held onto Ian's arm with two hands as he led her into the dining room for breakfast. When they stepped into the room, a few amused glances were cast their way, but they were otherwise ignored until they took their seats and Natalie immediately turned to them.

"So, how long have you been sleeping together?" she asked blatantly.

Half the table burst into laughter, while those who hadn't rudely barged into Amy's room that morning stared with a mix of confusion and disbelief. Fiske had his glass of juice raised to his lips moments before, and was now sputtering and mopping up the juice he'd spat out with a napkin.

Amy was surprised when her face didn't turn red. She didn't even feel the slightest bit embarrassed; she was more weary than humiliated.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," Ian said with a roll of his eyes.

Uncle Fiske had composed himself and was openly gawking. "What?" he stammered.

Dan gave him a sideways glance. "Don't ask," he muttered. "You really don't want to know."

"But I do," Natalie quipped. "Weeks? Months? Or was last night the first?"

"And that's where we draw the line," Ian said, gripping Amy's hand on the table.

Amy nodded in agreement. "So not your business."

Nellie bubbled with laughter when she saw Fiske's read face. He looked more embarrassed than Amy and Ian combined. She patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Fiske. I'll deal with it," Nellie consoled.

Amy served herself and Ian some pancakes, and topped them with syrup and berries with a burst of whipped cream. Then she poured juice from the pitcher in their respectable glasses and handed Ian a napkin, which he laid across his lap.

"So," Amy began, attempting to change the subject, "What's on today's agenda?"

Dan gave her a crooked grin. "Presents."

"Snowball fight," Hamilton added.

"And I've made Christmas dinner," Nellie said proudly.

"I don't know about the snowball fight," Ian muttered in Amy's ear.

She gave him a playful smirk. "Afraid of losing?"

"Kabras never lose," he reminded her arrogantly. "However, I don't particularly like my odds against the Holts."

She rolled her eyes. "You're playing, or else."

"Or else what?"

"I have my ways," she said with an air of superiority and a quirk of her eyebrow.

"And if you don't play, I'll lock you in a room with Saladin," Dan threatened.

Ian shuddered and nodded in submission.

"This'll be fun," Amy chortled.

Ian gave her a light glare. "You've got some food there," he said, touching the corner of his mouth. "Very sloppy, love."

She licked her lips and dipped her finger in the syrup on her plate. Then she drew a line down his cheek, and to her surprise, he didn't even flinch. Instead, he gave her a sly grin.

He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. "Want to lick it off?"

She hit him playfully on the shoulder but obliged, and this time he did startle.

"That's vulgar," Natalie commented. "And completely unexpected."

Ian flushed a light red, and Amy couldn't help laughing at him. She gave him a peck on the lips, and when she drew back, Ian placed a hand on the base of her neck and pulled her in.

And just like that, Amy forgot about everything. She forgot that it was Christmas, and she forgot that she was at the dining table, surrounded by Cahills. She forgot her brother, and Nellie, and her Uncle Fiske were watching and she forgot that Jonah had a camera with him for these kinds of moments. She didn't care about propriety, and she didn't care about humiliation. All she could think about was Ian, with his lips pressed to hers. His hand in her hair, his knee against her leg, and his silky Armani shirt under her fingers. The softness of his skin, and the warmth of his embrace, and the enticing feel of his tongue as it ran along her teeth. Her pulse raced, and her stomach fluttered, and her heart pounded in her ears as she pulled him closer with a burning desire, like she needed to feel more of his skin or hers. Like it was a matter of life or death.

When a croissant flew across the table and hit them, they jumped back.

"Not at the table. Please," Dan pleaded.

Amy was breathing hard, gasping air, but her eyes didn't leave Ian's. It was like he was gazing into her, seeing every part of her, the deepest recesses of her mind, her darkest thoughts and secrets. His amber eyes were like pools of honey, and she was captivated by the glint of light they reflected, and the energy radiating from them like they were two suns, blazing with light and heat.

"Hello?" Natalie said, clicking her fingers around their heads. They were snapped back into reality by the harsh noise, and Amy's cheeks instantly flushed red.

Ian rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Present time?"