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Smiling, I lifted my arms, threw them around his big, broad shoulders, wrapping my legs around his waist as he hefted me up. “You’re theheI was referring to, Squishy,” I admitted, thinking quick so that I wouldn’t give up the goods. “And what you’re going to love isthis.” I leaned back enough to tug at the neckline of his hoodie, the T-shirt, to give him a glimpse of the lingerie I’d worn for tonight.
Because he had adrenaline highs after his games.
And becauseIusually benefited from that post-game rush. In the form of orgasms.
By being left limp and satiated and dazed, fatigue crawling into every inch of me until I pretty much passed out.
I wasn’t complaining.
In fact, I was pretty much crowing about it.
Hence the lingerie that I knew would send his post-game high into the stratosphere.
Grinning, I dropped the neckline, turned my head to press a kiss to his biceps, to the tattoo he had there that memorialized his childhood dog.
His mouth hit my forehead and then he was setting me on my feet, taking my hand, and dragging me forward.
“Whoa, trouble,” I teased. “What’s the hurry?”
A heated look tossed over my shoulder.
Oh boy.
I shivered, pussy clenching.
“You know what the hurry is, sweetheart.” Quiet words.Heatedwords.
Another shiver, another clench.
“I need to grab my stuff, honey.”
That brought out my other Theo, the soft, sweet thoughtful Theo.
He squeezed my fingers, dropped my hand, and turned back to grab my purse. He didn’t pass it to me to hold, just gripped it like it was the most natural thing, wrapped his other arm around me, and we walked out of the arena together.
* * *
“If you move one more ornament,”he muttered, flopping back on the couch. “I will paddle your ass.”
I grinned over my shoulder at him. “You forget that I love it when you paddle my ass.” I waggled my brows. “And it’s almost perfect. I just”—I stretched on tiptoe, shifted a glittering Breakers blue orb to the side—“there.Nowit’s perfect.” I stared at the masterpiece that was our Christmas tree. “Don’t you think?”
“Yup. Perfect.”
I frowned, spun to face him.
His eyes that had been fixed at…ass level—men—drifted up to meet mine and I nearly melted on the spot.
Hot gray eyes with sparks of lightning in their depths.
“Were you looking at my ass?”
“Yup.” Absolutely not a trace of remorse in those three letters.
God, I loved this man.
“Did you even look at the tree?”
“Nope.”
