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I whooped and swept my woman close, dropping my mouth to hers and kissing her long and deep and with every bit of love I felt for her.
And it was a fucking lot.
So it took a long, long time.
Then, chest heaving, cock hard, I rubbed my thumb over her swollen-from-our-kiss bottom lip, and told her what I knew she needed to hear, “You are going to be the best mom ever.” I touched her cheek. “And I love you so fucking much.”
“So, it was a good surprise?” she asked, eyes soft. “Even though it’s not Christmas yet?”
“The best fucking surprise of my life.” A beat. “And the best present ever.” I bent and lifted her into my arms, carrying her back down the hall.
She squeaked, held up, not speaking until we passed our bedroom door. “Where are we going?”
I grinned, but didn’t answer until I carried her back to her computer and settled her into her chair, kissing her on the top of her chair. “Come on, little bird,” I said. “We have a dungeon to beat.”
SIX
Eva
The hand sweepingmy hair to the side didn’t make me jump.
Not because I’d heard Theo come up behind me.
But because he’d made it so I always felt safe in his house, his arms, in my life.
Sighing, I leaned back against him, dropping my head against his collarbone, tilting it so I could look up, meet his heated gaze. “How goes the grocery shopping?”
He set the can of cranberry sauce on the counter, then dropped his hands on either side of me, gripping the edge of the granite and boxing me in. I shivered at the sight of those thick fingers, the veins standing out in sharp relief on the backs of his hands.
I loved those hands.
I loved when they trailed over my body, cupping my curves. I loved when they hefted me up, spread my legs, held my hips as he fucked me deep and hard and fast. I loved how strong they were, how capable…and I loved how gentle they could be.
Though, looking at those veins, at those thick fingers, the powerful forearms, and I wasn’t interested in gentle.
Not in any way.
His lips hit my temple and he leaned in a little closer, the warm breadth of his chest flush against my back. “Grocery shopping was a war zone. I had to fight three old ladies and at least a half dozen soccer moms to get that can of cranberry sauce.”
“Liar,” I said, turning enough so that I could press a kiss to his jaw. “You probably passed cans out like Halloween candy and almost forgot to grab one for your wife.” I saw a blip of guilt flash across his face and grinned. “Thank you for braving the war that is the lead-up to Christmas at the grocery store so I didn’t have to.”
“No problem, sweetheart.”
I shivered.
Then again when those lips moved from my temple down to the side of my throat. “How goes the cookie decorating?”
I looked up, studied the contents of the counter and knew that I had my own blip of guilt flashing across my face. “I may have gone a bit overboard.”
“Considering that you made…” A pause and I knew he was doing the same thing I was—counting. “Twelve dozen cookies,” he murmured, “I might agree.”
I winced.
“But my family loves your cookies and you know the guys are fucking black holes when it comes to sweet consumption.” He turned me around, snagged the piping bag from my hands, and set it on the counter. “They’ll all get eaten, Eva baby, but I’m reserving my right to play the poor neglected hockey player husband card.” A nip to the side of my neck, voice going gruff. “I need you, Wifey.”
I had that last dozen cookies to finish decorating—thetwelfthdozen. Then I had to pack them up and clean the kitchen and finish preparing everything for the arrival of his family the next day.
I needed to cook dinner for us, or—more likely—to order it in.
