12. Cade

12

CADE

I step out of the shower with a bounce in my step. I dry my feet on the thick bathmat, shimmy the towel over my back, and realize my hips don't hurt. Maybe it's the cortisone, perhaps it's the rest from not playing hockey, or maybe it's the mind-blowing sex from last night.

I grin at my reflection.

It's the sex.

I pick up my toothbrush, enjoying flashbacks from last night. Green sparkling eyes. Coppery-red curls. Nails raking down my back. Creamy skin. Soft, round curves.

Maya.

I rinse with mouthwash and splash on some cologne.

As I stuff my legs into my jeans, it hits me… I don't have a gift for Maya. I can't go downstairs without a present. It's Christmas, for crying out loud. I turn on the closet light and start looking around. I have some T-shirts still in the package and some packages of brand-new socks. But that's a lame gift. I root around and find some hockey memorabilia. No. That won't work either. I grab a red Henley, pull it over my head, and remember one bag left in the Rover from Hank's General Store.

I crack the door open, check the hall, and do my best to tiptoe down the stairs. I pass by the trees, plug them in, and head for the garage. I take the bag out of the backseat and pump my fist in the air when I see what's inside.

A painted angel with emerald eyes and long red hair. The resemblance to Maya is uncanny. I don't believe in coincidences, but this is a miracle. A damn Christmas miracle. She's going to love this. I rush to my workbench and dig through a box of pencils and pens. I find a Sharpie and write her a message on the bottom of the statue. Then I go to the kitchen to search for a roll of tape. I don't have wrapping paper, so I toss the tape back into the drawer and wrap the angel in aluminum foil. After pressing it firmly in place and sealing the ends, I tuck it under the tree. Deciding it looks sad and lonely under the tree all by itself, I dash back into the kitchen to search for something else. My eyes land on a teacup, which gives me a great idea.

I find a small basket in the pantry and a brand-new oversized mug. I grab an unopened box of tea bags, spot a set of placemats with matching napkins, and then hurry to the cookie jar to see if any cookies were left from yesterday. Thrilled to find four, I whip up the makeshift basket, then set it beside the angel.

It's not enough.

I walk over to the window. The snow has stopped falling. My heart sinks because I know what that means. She'll be leaving. Refusing to think about her returning to Denver, I make her a Christmas breakfast. With a heavy heart, I wander back into the kitchen and get to work.

She walks into the kitchen dressed in another oversized sweater and yoga pants. I pivot my hips towards the stove to hide the bulge that won't stop happening around her. This woman is going to kill me.

"Merry Christmas, duchess."

"Merry Christmas, Cade."

She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head on my back. "What are you doing?"

"Making you my specialty."

"You have a specialty?" She sneaks around to kiss my cheek.

I drop the potholder, grab her, and hoist her in the air. "I have a lot of specialties, duchess."

She bats her lashes. "Is that so?"

"It is so." I set her on the counter.

"Show me." She licks her lips.

I don't bother to hide my erection. I move in close so that it's pressed tight to her core. "How's that?"

"Meh." She sighs.

"Meh?" I growl as I nuzzle her neck. "You smell amazing. What is that scent?"

"Ivory soap and Ocean Breeze Suave shampoo." She wiggles her hips closer. "You like?"

"Meh." I lean back, tip her chin up, and grin.

"How long before breakfast is ready?" She pants.

"Ten minutes." I nip at her bottom lip. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved." Her hand slides down the front of my jeans. "But not for food." She kisses my mouth, moving to my jaw and down my neck. When her tongue swirls across the base of my throat, I moan.

"Take off my pants," she whispers against my skin.

I lift her, drag her leggings off, and then work on my jeans. She takes my shaft into her hands and slowly rubs it through her wet folds.

"There. That's better."

The heat of her sex is driving me mad. "Inside…" I snarl through gritted teeth. "I need to be inside you."

"Patience." She latches onto my mouth. "We have seven minutes."

"Duchess…" I try to snap my hips forward.

"Patience." She tightens her fist around me.

Her tongue swirls in my mouth until she finds my tongue and starts sucking on it. Sweat rolls down my back. My thighs begin to shake. I'm not even inside her yet, and I'm about to explode.

She releases my tongue, strokes me once, twice… and then positions me at her entrance. "Now."

I thrust my shaft forward, giving her every inch. She balances herself by holding onto my shoulders.

"Is that too much, duchess?" I pant.

"No." She grabs onto my neck. "Harder. I want harder."

I plunge deep and hard, so hard that the cups rattle on the counter.

"How's that, duchess?"

She gives me a moan that has me grabbing onto her hips so that I can try to go deeper.

"Cade…" She whimpers.

"Maya…" I moan back.

She clutches my chest and convulses around me until we're both gasping for breath. She hides her face in my neck, and I'm overcome by a wave of emotion I've never felt before.

Her fingers slowly stroke along my back, and that's when it hits me.

Love.

I feel love.