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“I can’t wait to hear this logic.” He grinned down at her, loving everything about her.
“Let me have my way with you until you can’t take it anymore.” She lowered her voice until it was all smoke and heat. “I know you. I know how you are. The crazier you get, the more domineering you become.”
He raised a brow, catching her line of thought. “And?”
Her smile was pure feline. “When I finally let you go, I get to reap the rewards of all that mean, raw sex. A win-win, for both of us.”
See, what other woman would want that? Would get that about him? Nobody but Sophie. She was like him that way, insatiable and dirty.
He growled and fisted her hair. “That does sound like a good time.”
Her pupils dilated. “And it can be all yours for the low, low price of some pictures.”
“Deal.” He kissed her, hard and fierce, before pulling her toward the living room where there was a fireplace mantel full of pictures.
When they stood in front of it, she picked up a picture of him when he was about five, seated on a bike. She smiled. “Is this you?”
“It is.” He wasn’t looking at the picture, but at her.
She traced her fingers over the wooden frame. “You were adorable.”
He chuckled. “Don’t I look like a badass?”
“You look like an angel.”
He mock scowled. “No way. Look at me, I’m a rebel.” In the photo, he wore a Star Wars R2D2 T-shirt, Darth Vader Underoos, and gym shoes.
She laughed. “Do you think your mom would give it to me?”
“Like I’d let her. There is no way I’m handing over blackmail material with your evil streak.”
She turned her attention to him, her eyes narrowed with menace. “Mark my words, this picture will be mine.”
He rolled his eyes at her.
She laughed and moved on down the mantel that contained his childhood memories. She picked up one picture after another, studying it carefully, asking a few questions and moving on.
She reached the end and picked up a family picture of the five of them from a couple of years ago. “Where was this from?”
“Christmas.” He curved a hand around her hips. “We have a cabin in the woods, and every Christmas we go up there, just us.”
Her head tilted as she stared at the picture. “Does your mom make hot chocolate?”
“Only if it’s laced with alcohol.”
She laughed, the sound shooting straight through him. “Do you have traditions?”
He squeezed her. “Yeah.”
The wistfulness in her tone almost broke him. “What are they?”
“We go up a few days early and decorate the tree. Then we laze around. We talk, play games, and bake cookies, eating half the dough and making the other half. Then on Christmas Eve we have a big dinner and my mom gives us Christmas pajamas.”
She jerked her head up. “You have Christmas pajamas?”
He chuckled. “Yes, more than I care to admit to.”
Her whole face lit up. “Will you wear them for me?”
