11
Holt didn’t make it home for bath or bedtime. It was nearing nine by the time he finally rolled up to the house. But the cake was finished, and it was damned fine work, if he did say so himself. He liked the challenge and precision of design. It gave him another use for the steady hands he’d so often turned to diffusing explosives.
He found Cayla on the sofa in the living room, a mostly empty glass of wine at her elbow and her e-reader in hand. Her bare toes had been painted a bright poppy red. Something about the sight of them made him smile. Maybe because the fact that she’d had time to do them meant the evening had gone smoothly. Her honey blonde hair was loose around her shoulders, and she seemed to be wearing—was that one of his button-down shirts?—with a pair of sleep shorts. She looked relaxed and comfortable. A far cry from where she’d started the day.
Her lips curved as he came into the room. “Get the cake finished?”
“Yeah. They’ll be by to pick it up tomorrow.”
“Good.” She tipped back the last of her wine and set the e-reader aside.
“Maddie go down okay? I’m sorry I missed bedtime.” Strange how fast he’d become accustomed to the routine. How he’d missed it.
“She’s not here.”
Holt froze in place, going on alert. He knew nothing was wrong, or Cayla would be losing her mind. No, this was something else.
She rose from the sofa and padded toward him. “I called in a favor and arranged a sleepover at my mother’s for the entire weekend. Because I have plans for you, and I don’t want to be interrupted. Again.”
Fire sparked in his blood as she closed the distance between them. “Where’s the dog?”
“Turns out being skunked, bathed, and having an all-day play date with Leno wore her out. She’s been passed out in her crate for about an hour.”
“Good to know. So you’ve got plans, huh?”
“Mmm.”
That purr of sound had the blood already draining from his head. He wanted to hear more of it as he peeled her out of that shirt and tasted every sweet curve of her body.
Tone conversational, she trailed her fingers across his chest, gently nudging him backward, toward the hall. “I thought you were gorgeous before I knew you. That was surface.”
Those fingers reached for the bottom of his t-shirt, sliding it up. “Add to that, we have chemistry. Really great chemistry. But that’s just biology.”
The shirt got stuck somewhere around his pecs, so he helped her out, dragging it off with one hand and letting it fall. Her eyes skated over his bare chest, going dark as they took in his tattoos before coming back to his face.
“Then I got to know you, and I discovered that dry wit, which is my favorite kind of humor.”
They passed into the bedroom. She’d installed the lock he’d bought, not that it looked like they’d need it tonight. One of the bedside lamps was on low. It cast just enough light to see the hint of cleavage where the shirt she’d robbed gaped open. His fingers itched to touch, but he kept them to himself for a little while longer, understanding she was going somewhere with all this.
“Then I saw you fall in love with my daughter. A major plus in my book.” She backed him up until his knees hit the bed. “And there’s that amazing, selfless willingness to help with literally anything, which I can promise you, is reason enough to make most women swoon.”
“Most?” He arched a brow, sitting as she nudged him down. “Not you?”
“Oh, it was a near thing, for sure. And I have a multitude of different ways I’d love to show my appreciation for all that. But it was really the JT that did it.”
Holt huffed a laugh, unable to resist gripping her hips. “Yeah? The singing?”
Her hands slid around his shoulders as she climbed up to straddle his lap. “That, and I really need to know what you can do with these hips without an audience.”
He pulled her down tight against his erection, loving the little whimper she made as he flexed against her. “All weekend, you said?”
“Mom’s got Maddie until Sunday afternoon, and I have no events and no meetings on the calendar until Monday afternoon because I cleared Monday morning for the grand opening. Consider it our honeymoon.”
Hell to the yes.
He started to kiss her, but she laid a finger over his lips, her expression turning serious.
“I just want to make it clear, in case it’s not already, that this is not about gratitude for what you’ve been doing for me or for Maddie—though God knows, I can’t imagine anyone else leaping in like you have. It’s not somehow transactional. I want you. I wanted you almost from the moment we met, and I’ve only wanted you more since. I’m choosing you for however long this lasts. I just needed you to know that.”
However long this lasts.
What would she say if he told her he wanted to make it real? That he didn’t want to end this whenever the threat of Raynor was resolved? That he was in love with her?
It was too much, too soon. She’d said she didn’t trust easy. Never mind that being with her was the easiest thing he’d ever done. He wouldn’t risk what he’d found with her by pushing for more than she was ready for. He wouldn’t push her at all. She needed to come around to the idea that this marriage was right in her own time.
But he could show her.
Combing both hands through all that silky hair, he drew her mouth to his. The taste of her hit him like a double shot of top-shelf whiskey, and he had to remind himself not to gulp, not to rush. This need had been building between them for weeks. Months, really. She’d made sure they’d have the time to savor each other, so by damn, he’d deliver.
One by one, he released the buttons down the front of her shirt, slowly baring her shoulders, her chest. He explored each new piece of her with lazy, lingering kisses as he palmed her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers. She rocked against him, restless and needy, draining all the blood and a lot of his good intentions out of his head. If she kept that up, he was going to blow like a teenaged boy on prom night.
Wanting to last longer than that, he leaned back and rolled, until her back was pressed to the mattress and he could slide off the end. Her hair was already mussed, her lips rosy and swollen from his. He wanted to see what else was flushed and swollen for him. Hooking his fingers in the waistband of her sleep shorts, he dragged them down, taking the underwear with them, until she was bare to him. She wasn’t shy, didn’t curl up or hide. She simply lay back and let him look his fill. And God, she was stunning.
Snagging her by the ankles, he dragged her to the edge of the bed, wrangling a laugh from her. At least until he knelt and pressed her knees apart. Her laugh turned to a moan as he took a long, slow lick up her center. So damned sweet and already drenched. On a growl, he lowered his head and feasted. He’d been thinking about what she’d taste like, what she’d sound like when he took her like this, and he wasn’t disappointed. Her unmistakable cries of pleasure echoed through the room as he drove her up and up, until she shattered on a scream that was the best thing he’d heard in forever.
As he eased her down from the peak, she rolled her head toward him, panting. “I can’t even be annoyed about that cocky smirk on your face. Because… damn.”
His grin only broadened. “I think I understand now why you were so reluctant to get up to anything with Maddie in the house. You’re a screamer.”
Cayla dropped her head back, covering her face with both hands. “I mean, it’s been six years. I’ve got some pent up… needs.”
Six years. So no one since her ex. An unreasonable sense of possession and satisfaction shot through him at that. He wanted to claim every inch of her as his. That was just one more reason to take his time.
Holt dragged her hands down so he could look into her eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. I fucking love it.”
Those eyes darkened, and a feline smile curved her lips. “Then why don’t you come up here and let’s see exactly how much you can make me scream?”
* * *