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I add the coffee beans and water to the sleek stainless-steel coffee maker and sit on a counter stool, staring at it. Willing it to work faster. I’ve got ice time at the rink in an hour, and there’s no way I’m getting through the morning without a boost.
“Good morning, wife.”
A chill skates down my spine as Easton joins me in the kitchen and drops a kiss on the top of my head like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s freshly showered, and his sandy-brown hair is wet, tousled, and smells delicious. Like white pine and citrus.
He moves past me, and oh my... Gray sweat pants hang off his lean hips and hug his thick thighs. And my mouth waters when I drag my eyes up his chest covered in a deliciously tight white t-shirt. This man is a god. No wonder I’ve had a crush on him for half my life.
He makes himself at home in my kitchen, like he’s been here a thousand times, and grabs a mug out of the cabinet as he hums.
Hums.
Who hums at six a.m.?
Apparently, my husband does as he makes himself coffee. I watch, fascinated, as he fills a mug, grabs the Christmas-cookie creamer from my fridge, adds a heaping pour, then holds it out for me and waits.
I blink up at him, confused.
Easton leans in and licks his lips, and I swear my heart skips a beat. “I like when your eyes do that, princess. Your lashes get fluttery, and your cheeks are all pink and pretty. It makes me think about all the other things I can do to get you to flush that way.” Easton’s lips caress the shell of my ear as he whispers, “And I’ve gotta tell you, they’re all a hell of a lot more fun than making you coffee.”
He finally puts the coffee down on the counter next to me as I stare at him in shock. “Why do you know how I take my coffee?” I ask, stunned.
“Because I’ve made it my business to know everything about you.”
“Oh.” What the hell?Oh? That’s the best I can come up with?
“Do you have plans tonight?” He doesn’t wait for my answer before he starts rifling through my cabinets again.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“A travel mug.”
I move to the other end of the counter and rise up on my tiptoes to grab him one of our insulated mugs. Then I freeze as his warmth envelopes me without his body ever touching mine. His arms move to either side of the counter, boxing me in.
I don’t turn around, afraid of what he might see if I do.
Instead, I place the metal mug on the counter and take a deep breath.
“I promised Andrew I’d meet him at the rink tonight. He’s still trying to get me to reconsider competing, and I keep telling him no. So now he has me watching his potential partners try out instead.” I try to say it forcefully, but the words come out more like a whisper.
Is it possible to feel him even when he isn’t touching me?
“Are you sure you’re done competing? Won’t you miss skating?”
It’s the same question I’ve been asked too many times to count since the Olympics. But my answer has stayed the same. “I still skate. But now I skate for me, or when I’m working with my baby skaters. Now it’s more fun, less stress. Andrew’s just having a hard time accepting that.”
“What time are you meeting Andrew?” Easton growls quietly against my ear.
“Seven,” I breathe out and fight every instinct screaming at me to take one small step back. One tiny little move would close the distance between the two of us.
“Seven,” he whispers and steps back, then grabs the travel mug. “Thanks, princess.”
I turn slowly and watch Easton pour his coffee and screw on the lid. “Where are you going now?”
“I want to surprise Blaise and drive him to school before I meet with my new coach. Then I’ve got practice. First game’s tomorrow night.”
His words shake up a thought I hadn’t considered before. “Have fun at practice, hockey boy. You might want to steer clear of Jace on the ice.”
“Your brother loves me.” He looks at me for a moment, losing a little of his bravado before he shakes it off and walks out of the kitchen calling out, “I’ll see you tonight, princess.”
