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His hair is messy. There’s dark stubble along his jaw. His eyes are heavy with sleep, and he’s completely naked. Also, he’s smiling. Not the tiny, reluctant one I usually have to work for. A real one. Lazy and warm and completely unfair.
“Stop that,” I say.
His smile gets bigger. “What?”
“Looking pleased with yourself.”
“I am pleased with myself.”
“Of course you are.”
He leans close to my ear and nips at the sensitive skin there. His hand slides down from my breast, over my stomach and straight between my legs. “I’m pretty pleased with you too, Mrs. Kane.”
I suck in a breath.
“Already wet and needy for me.” His voice is low and dirty, and I decide this might be my favorite version of him. Sleep ruffled and husky.
His finger dips inside of me, instantly finding that magic spot he found last night. This thumb goes to my clit. I arch into his touch.
“Fuck, Noelle, you don’t know how much I’ve been wanting to touch you. To have the permission to treat you like my wife and not just Shiloh’s stepmother. You’re so perfect with him and I didn’t think I had any right to ask you for more.”
I gasp. His words are so sweet but his fingers are doing wicked things to me. I reach over and grab his hip.
“Maybe I can be perfect for both of you,” I manage through my moans. “Oh my, I’m so close. Maverick.”
“I’ve got you, sweetheart. You come all over my hand.”
And I do, crying his name and shaking through my pleasure. He grunts and then I feel the warmth of his release on my back.
“Shit, I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “You’re too goddamn sexy and I couldn’t hold it in.”
“Was last night in the shower the first time? I mean not ever, but about me?”
“Fuck no. That started night one. It’s a wonder I haven’t rubbed myself raw.”
That makes me giggle.
“Brat,” he jokes. “You like that, don’t you?”
“That my stupidly hot husband wants me? Yeah, I really do,” I say.
“You think I’m stupidly hot? Is that a good thing?”
“Yes, Maverick, it’s a very good thing.”
After he cleans us up, we both get dressed. He even, begrudgingly puts on the Christmas pajamas that match mine and Shiloh’s.
Then something pounds against the bedroom door. “DADDY!”
We freeze.
Another pound.
“DADDY! IT’S CHRISTMAS!” The doorknob rattles.
“Shiloh, buddy, give me one minute.”
“But it’s CHRISTMAS.”
