CHAPTER THREE

Pinpricks of ecstasy filled Peyton’s limbs, and her toes curled as the man on top of her rocked his hips in such a decadent way she saw stars behind her close eyelids.

Exhausted from such a wonderful day yesterday, and a long and erotic evening, she didn’t have the energy to open her eyes and go another round with Jace.

So she chose to keep her eyes closed, because vision was overrated when the man was just that talented.

She locked her ankles around his butt as it flexed and bunched with each thrust.

The man had a great butt. She’d even boldly given it a little nip with her teeth last night when she told him to roll over onto his front, and she straddled him with her naked body and gave him a massage.

His moans of delight from her deep-tissue treatment encouraged her to get brazen, and just as she dug her elbow into a tight spot on his hamstring, she dipped her head and bit his muscular glute .

“Hey!” he’d said with a chuckle. “Did you just bite my butt?”

“Maybe,” she teased, sitting back up and running her hands up his side to his shoulders again.

Before she could blink, or get to work on his tight traps, she was back beneath him. “Well, now I’ve definitely got to bite yours,” he said, hovering above her. “It’s only fair.”

He’d done more than just bite her butt, too. His tongue found her crease and, along with a couple of fingers in her pussy, he brought her to a climax unlike any she’d ever had before. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk in the morning after that.

But, just like seeing, walking was overrated, too.

He woke her up with his tongue between her legs, then crawled up her body, slid a condom on like a pro, and was inside her, reminding her of his prowess and stamina in all the best possible ways.

Arching her back, she pressed her breasts toward his mouth. He took the cue, dropping his lips to her left nipple and scissoring his teeth over the tight, achy bud. She moaned and squeezed her pussy around his cock, loving the way his lower belly stroked her clit.

She knew he was working out extra hard because he was training for E.R.T., which was the Canadian version of S.W.A.T. But even without all the additional training, Jace was probably a fine specimen of a man. His abs had abs. And that sexy V that ran along his hip bones, down beneath his boxers, made her mouth water and her clit throb. She licked it more than once last night, but that only given her a taste, and now she wanted more.

He moved his mouth to the other breast and delivered the same decadent torture to that nipple. Sucking and biting, scissoring his teeth until a delicious throb pulsed in her chest. She heard that some women could orgasm just from nipple stimulation, and although she’d never done so herself, she understood how it was possible—at least now.

Maybe all those women had been with Jace Shepherd .

His movements were slow and deliberate. There was no rushing things with this man. Everything Jace did was done with precision and concentration. His cadence was measured, and even the time spent on each breast was exactly the same—not that she was timing him or anything.

He kissed one side of her neck, then the other.

The need to balance her out was so fitting for this Libra.

Her orgasm built like a snow mound. Each one of his thrusts, each one of his kisses, was another snowflake on the stack, until eventually it would either kiss the sky, or topple over from its own weight.

Her initial reaction was to squeak in surprise when he abruptly rolled them over and she suddenly found herself on top.

“I like this angle,” he said, smiling lazily up at her. Her hair was a wild and wavy mess around her shoulders, and her pale, freckled breasts bounced as he bucked up beneath her. She hinged forward slightly, resting her hands on his chest, and began to bob up and down on his lap.

His pelvis scraped just perfectly against her clit, pushing her close once again to that beautiful orgasm that whispered on the fringes.

His right hand snaked around behind her and one finger probed her hole. They locked eyes. He lifted a brow, subtly asking for consent. She smiled and nodded, relaxing her muscles so he could push that finger in a little further. But before he could do that, he brought his hand around in front of her and between her legs. He gripped his cock as it disappeared inside of her, rubbing his thumb over her clit, then gathering some of her arousal.

Then he wrapped that hand back around her and, with a lubed finger, he pressed against her tight rosette once more. She relaxed and pushed out with her muscles, allowing him to slip inside with ease.

That divine new bit of pressure and his finger pressing on a new erogenous zone made her lower belly flutter. Her clit throbbed and her nipples pebbled even harder than they already were.

She was close .

So freaking close.

The knowing grin on Jace’s face said he knew she was struggling to hang on.

Her lips twisted into a cheeky smile. Then she squeezed his cock with all her might, pushed back against his finger so it went inside of her even deeper, and finally let go.

Tipping her head back so her chin pointed to the ceiling, she cried out, allowing the snow pile to topple over and take her with it. Only based on how hot and bothered she was, and how much steam they were generating, fogging up the windows, that snow pile would be a puddle in no time.

Jace followed her release with his own seconds later, stilling as his hand gripped her hip tight and his finger in her ass paused.

She was still in the throes of her climax, but pried one eye open to watch him. His mouth was opened and a look of pure elation streaked across his face.

His expression only spurred her on, and another orgasm clambered forward on the heels of the first. She rode Jace hard, back and forth, loving the way his cock split her open. The intense stretch, the feeling of being so beautifully full, was riveting. The man had a nice cock. No weird bend to it, nice and long and with a girth that made her see stars.

When her second orgasm finally waned, she realized she’d closed her eyes again. Jace relaxed beneath her, and when she blinked her eyes open and glanced down at him, she found him smiling.

She smiled back, a heated flush of shyness making its unwanted way into her cheeks and chest. She was fair-skinned, which meant he could easily see the pink hue to her cheeks and breasts.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he mused, his voice like rough whiskey that made her pussy flutter around him. “And a fucking goddess when you come.”

She bit her lip and glanced away, her hair tumbling over her face. Slowly, she rolled off him and made her way to the bathroom, where she tidied herself up. When she returned to the bedroom, he got out of bed, a cocky grin on his face, and went to dispose of the condom .

He was back in bed with her, hauling her back against his chest in a under a minute.

“How does your family spend Christmas day?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

She sighed and snuggled into his arms, smiling at just how content she felt. “Pretty lazy and low key. It’s just the three of us. So we stay in our pajamas all day drinking coffee with Bailey’s, listening to Christmas music and opening gifts. We have a rule—my parents and I. Our gifts for each other must be under fifty dollars and handmade.”

“Oh, wow!”

She shrugged. “My parents are …”

“Loaded?” he finished with a chuckle.

“Yeah. So, there’s not much that we need. Christmas has always been about spending time together. Not about things . We also do a lot of volunteer work around the holidays—well, all year—but especially around the holidays. And we donate money we would spend on each other to worthier causes. We know we’re privileged, so we don’t take that for granted.”

“That’s really cool. What have you made for your parents this year?” He squeezed her tighter.

“Well, I learned how to crochet a few years ago, so I made my mom a scarf and matching gloves in her favorite color—olive green. And for my dad—who is an avid fly fisherman, well, any kind of fishing, really—I took a fly-tying course and made him a bunch of really neat flies.”

“That’s really fucking cool,” he said, his tone conveying just how impressed he really was. “I’d love to see some of these flies. I’ve been fly-fishing with my dad before, but we always just buy our flies. I think learning how to make your own would be really neat.”

“It was finicky at first. My first few were total crap, but once I got the hang of it, it was actually really fun. ”

He released her and helped her roll over so she was facing him. Brushing the hair off her face, he cupped her cheek. “I really like that tradition you have with your parents. Where you spend your time rather than your money.”

She smiled. “Me, too. Boxing Day—so tomorrow—is when we see family. My uncle Ron has a big open house that we go to every year. His wife makes a giant pot of chili, and another one of chowder, then everyone just comes and goes as they like. They get anywhere between twenty and eighty people over the course of the day. Luckily, their house is massive and can sustain it.”

“Oh, wow!”

“What about you?”

He rolled over onto his back and tucked his hands behind his head. She snuggled into his chest, resting her head on his pec. “My sister has a couple of kids now, so it’s all about them—which I love. My parents, sister and I don’t buy each other anything anymore. I just buy for my niece and nephew. I’ll head over to my parents’ house around two o’clock. We’ll open gifts with the kids, then have dinner. My mum always goes overboard with dinner. Turkey and every side dish imaginable.”

“I’m all about the side dishes. I will honestly admit that I have eaten an entire family-sized serving of stuffing on my own in my apartment for dinner—on more than one occasion.”

He snorted a laugh. “I love that. Then she sends us all home with leftovers to sustain us for a week. But I’m beckoned back a few days later to pick up my turkey potpies and my turkey soup.”

“Let me guess, you can eat an entire pie in one sitting?”

“Have done—more than once. Then I have a second dinner later.”

It was her turn to snort.

“Hey, I’m in training. Gotta keep the muscles fed.” Playfully, he brought his right bulging bicep to his mouth and gave it a kiss.

Peyton rolled her eyes. But she secretly loved his playfulness. “When do you start work again? ”

“Tomorrow, unfortunately. Day shift. I’ve got two of ‘em. Then two nights. Then I’m off for four.”

She nodded. “My best friend’s husband is a cop. I’m familiar with the rotation.”

He reached down and pinched her butt. “Cheeky.” Then he grabbed his phone from his nightstand to check the time. It was eight-fourteen. “What time are your parents expecting you?”

“They know it was Rayma’s wedding yesterday, and that I had a late night. I told them I’d be home around noon.”

He growled and hauled her back on top of him. “So we have a few more hours to prove to Santa why we’re on his naughty list.” Then he hoisted her up, making her squeal, and reminding her just how strong he was, and positioned her over his face, flicking her clit with his tongue.

She sighed and held onto the wall for dear life.

Best. Christmas. Morning. Ever.

Jace was the perfect gentleman. He saved Peyton from a chilly walk of shame by loaning her a pair of his enormous sweatpants and a T-shirt, along with some socks and his giant slide sandals. Then, he drove her back to Pasha’s so she could collect her car and get home to get into her pajamas for Christmas at her parents.

“What are you doing on the twenty-seventh?” he asked as they pulled up to Heath and Pasha’s behind Peyton’s car, parked on the curb and covered with snow.

“No plans besides back to work. You? ”

“Work and training. But since we’re neighbors, maybe we could have dinner together.”

She beamed. “I’d like that.”

“Here,” he said, opening up the door to his truck. “Stay put. I’ll clear off your car and get it all warmed up for you.” Then he grabbed her keys from her hand and hopped out, leaving her toasty in the cab of his truck, watching him brush the snow off her car.

A giggle erupted in her chest as she watched him. She caught the bouquet—or in this case, the pineapple—and he caught the garter. Was there any real merit in those old traditions?

He certainly seemed like a catch on paper—and in the bedroom.

After fifteen minutes, he opened up her door and helped her climb down into a small snowbank, then maneuver her way to her door. He even cleared her a small path. “I’m going to follow you home, okay?” he said. “Not because I’m a weirdo stalker. But because these roads are dicey and I want to make sure you get home okay.”

Happiness warmed her. Her loving Libra. He was so caring.

She nodded and slid behind the steering wheel of her car. He even turned on the seat warmers for her. “Thank you.”

She drove back downtown to her condo with the safety and security of knowing a hunky police officer who was great in bed was right behind her. Making sure she didn’t end up in a ditch or anything.

He tossed her a wave when she headed into her parking garage and she blew him a kiss.

It was eleven-thirty. She needed to have another shower and get into her holiday pajamas. Her parents wouldn’t be upset if she was a little late. But her belly rumbled in anticipation of her mother’s gingerbread scones, so she hopped to it and was in her car and heading to Oak Bay and her family home by twelve-fifteen.

As always, Christmas morning with her mum and dad was wonderful .

They loved her homemade gifts, and she loved theirs.

Her mother, who was big into crafting—and houseplants—made Peyton a living frame. She took a big, beautiful picture frame and chicken wire, then added moss and succulents, until the frame was filled with green life. It would go perfectly in her apartment. She absolutely loved it.

And her father, who was also quite handy and liked to work with his hands, built Peyton a new bookshelf for her apartment. She only just moved out on her own earlier that year and was still accumulating furniture and art that she liked. Why go out and buy crap just to fill a space? Wait until the right piece comes along. And she’d been doing just that.

Sitting on her parents’ big couch in her candy cane flannel pajamas with an Irish coffee in one hand and a gingerbread scone in the other, Peyton was in her happy place.

Her phone warbled on the coffee table, so she had to make the impossible decision of which item to put down so she could grab it.

Her father laughed at her when she crammed the remaining scone into her mouth so she didn’t have to choose. “You could have just put the thing down,” he said.

She shook her head but was unable to speak from how full her mouth was.

Picking up her phone, a giddy heat filled her chest and cheeks. It was a text message from Jace, along with a picture.

My niece got a tarot card set for Christmas from my mom, and I immediately thought of you. Are you into that stuff, too?

A picture of the set appeared above the message.

She smiled. She had that very set.

She messaged him back. I’ll do a reading for you when you come over for dinner.

He sent back a laughing emoji, followed by a heart.

Her heart thumped heavy in her chest .

“That kind of smile only comes when you’re thinking about a guy,” her dad, Bill, said with amusement in his tone. “Who is he?”

She bit her lip and set her phone down on the arm of the couch, taking a sip of her coffee before replying. “Jace. He’s Jordan’s best friend and a police officer, too. We met at the bachelor-bachelorette party, then again at the wedding.”

Her father hummed in response, a woodworking magazine open and in his hands. “Making plans to go on a date?”

“Yeah. We’re going to have dinner after his day-shift on the twenty-seventh.”

“Who’s having dinner?” her mother, Tracy, asked, entering the big living room, her red curls bouncing as she carried a tray of more gingerbread scones. Peyton’s mouth watered.

“I am,” Peyton said, leaning forward and grabbing another scone before her mother could even set down the tray down on the coffee table. “With Jordan’s best friend Jace.”

“Picture?” her mother asked, eyes—the same gray shade as Peyton’s—lighting up with excitement.

Peyton had already been through every one of Jace’s Instagram pictures, so she couldn’t say she didn’t have one. Her parents knew when she was lying. Nodding, she brought up a cute one of him in just jeans and a long-sleeve black shirt. He was smiling and giving a thumbs up to the camera in front of some waterfall, probably on the island.

Her mother sat down beside her and leaned in to check out Jace’s picture. “Ohh, he’s cute. Nice smile.”

“He has a great smile.”

“And you said he’s a cop with Jordan?”

Peyton nodded. “Yeah. He’s trying out for E.R.T., too.”

Her father’s gray brows lifted on his forehead. “Oh wow. Must be training pretty hard then?”

“Yeah, every day. Though, I think he took yesterday and today off.”

Her parents chuckled .

“Well, I’m happy to see you dating again,” her mother said, patting her thigh. “You deserve to find love and be happy.”

“But if being by yourself is what makes you happy, then we support that, too,” her dad quickly added, his brown eyes earnest. “Your happiness does not need to be defined by your relationship status or having a man in your life.”

Peyton and her mother rolled their matching eyes and smiled. It’d taken some gentle brainwashing on their part, but her dad was finally becoming the feminist they knew he could be. But growing up in a family of all boys, and working in the construction industry with blue-collar misogynists for the last thirty-five years, her dad required a lot of deprograming. He was on his way, though.

“Thanks, Dad,” Peyton said, biting into her scone. “Turns out Jace and I live across the street from each other. But I get that he’s busy. We’re both young and focused on our careers, so even if we only see each other for an hour some days, that’s okay.”

“Spoken like a practical woman with a good head on her shoulders,” her dad said, leaning forward to grab a scone for himself.

“Well, I hope that when you’re both ready, we can meet him. Anybody who can make you glow and smile like this is already in my good books.” Her mother pulled her in for a hug and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Now, how’s everyone’s coffee?”

“Not Irish enough,” Peyton and her father said at the same time, which caused all three of them to burst out laughing.