Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
He carries me out into the hallway, chuckling.
"I need clothes," I protest.
"You definitely don't need clothes. In fact, you're not permitted to wear clothes when we're alone ever again," he growls, palming my ass. "If I'm going to hell, I plan to enjoy it."
"You're not going to hell. I mean, you might if you do that thing with your tongue again, but if you do, yay for me."
He shakes his head at me, laughing. "Dirty girl."
"Mmhmm," I hum, not denying it. I've heard enough women talk to know that most first times are not like my first time. Most men aren't like my man. I'm perfectly content being dirty if it means he keeps doing dirty things to me.
He carries me down the stairs, holding me like I'm precious. I love it. The way he touches me. The way he holds me. How he can't keep his eyes off me. I don't know what I did to deserve him, but I love him so damn much.
"Oh my gosh," I whisper, staring in shock at the massive Christmas tree standing off to the side of the fireplace in the living room. It's a good nine feet tall, covered in twinkling white lights. Colored ornaments hang haphazardly from the branches, scattered without care. It's a mess, but it's the most perfect mess. "You put up a tree."
"You love Christmas," he says as if it's the most logical thing in the world. His eyes meet mine, bright with sincerity. "I'll put up a thousand of them if it makes you happy."
"Blaze," I whisper, my heart fluttering like an entire flock of birds nest in there.
"Making sure you have everything you need is my job now, little one," he says, carrying me across the room to the tree. The closer we get, the stronger the pine smell grows. "I plan to spend the rest of my fucking life obsessing about you every minute of the day."
As soon as he puts me on my feet, I launch myself at him, climbing him like he's a tree. He boosts me up with his hands on my ass, allowing me to rain kisses of gratitude and adoration across his face. He's so damn amazing. God, how did I ever think he didn't feel the same? I was clearly an idiot. He looks at me like I'm the center of the universe.
"I love you," I say, punctuating each word with another kiss.
He growls, claiming my lips with his. This kiss is hot and heavy, but it's sweet and gentle too. The best of both worlds.
"I plan to be obsessed with you too," I say when he finally lets me up for air.
"Yeah?" He bites my lip and then grins. "Come on, let's feed you."
"You're going to cook for me?"
"Already did," he grunts, carrying me into the kitchen. And whoa. I should have checked out the kitchen last night because it's incredible. Restaurants have less room to work with than he does. The appliances are built in, with doors that slide closed over them. Sunlight filters in from floor-to-ceiling windows in a breakfast nook off to the right. It lets out onto the backyard. I can see the valley below.
The island in the center of the room is as big as a conference table in a board room, with pots and pans hanging from hooks overhead. My stomach growls when I see the plate heaped high with bacon, eggs, and toast on top of the island.
He hears it and chuckles, carrying me toward it. I expect him to release me, but he doesn't. He sits down with me in his lap, holding me close.
"You're going to feed me," I whisper, warmth rushing through me.
"Fuck yeah, I am," he growls, his expression hot when he meets my gaze. "You know how many times I've wanted to sit you on my lap and feed you, baby girl? Too many to count."
It's so strange how something so small can make me so happy, and yet it does. For the first time in my life, I know exactly what it feels like to be bursting with love. It's perfection.
"Spend Christmas here with me," he says, running a hand down my back. "I'll decorate whatever you want me to decorate."
"I'm supposed to fly home." My flight leaves the day after tomorrow. I don't want to go though. For the first time in my life, I'm not looking forward to spending Christmas with my family. I want to be here, with Blaze.
"Then I'll go with you."
"You'd do that?" I ask, eyes wide.
"Yes."
He scoops a bite of scrambled egg up onto a fork, bringing it to my lips. I wrap them around it, pulling the fork into my mouth. The cheesy flavor bursts on my tongue, making my stomach growl again. I'm starving.
"I'd rather stay here," I say between bites. "I'm not ready to share you yet."