by Laura Kaye
An hour later, she was pushing a cart around the kitchen section at IKEA. She turned into the utensils aisle and…bingo. She grabbed the superheroes spatula set off the hook. It had four spatulas, and the flat parts were made out of the heads of the Hulk, Spiderman, Ironman, and Captain America. Kristina chuckled as she dropped them in the cart. What other fun guy stuff could she find?
A set of slotted spoons with eyeball- and moustache-shaped holes. A pair of wooden spoons that had drumstick tips on one end. A cheese grater shaped like an electric guitar. A measuring cup and spoon set that, when all stacked together, looked like the Star Wars robot, R2D2. An Army man bottle cap opener. A pizza cutter shaped like a unicycle being ridden by a monkey.
Kristina grinned, totally digging Sweden’s sense of humor.
Next, she found a kitchen knife set—instead of a traditional square wooden block to store them, it had a circular block with a plastic man tied to it spread-eagle. When resting in the block, the knives appeared to have been thrown into it, circus-performer style. Next to that she found a rectangular cutting board that read, “DANGER: MEN COOKING.” Kristina chuckled as she dropped those into the cart.
She rounded to the next aisle and laughed out loud. Salt-and-pepper shakers. Lots of them. Humping pigs. An old man sitting on a toilet. A dog and a fire hydrant. A bent-over gnome whose naked butt cheeks were the shakers.
That one was kinda disturbing, actually.
Further down the display, Kristina found the perfect set—ninjas, one black, one white, only their eyeballs showing under their ninja get-ups.
Okay, she totally hadn’t set out to buy this much, but now she was having too much fun to stop, especially when she imagined Noah’s reaction to each thing. Not to mention, but who could possibly choose between superhero spatulas and ninja salt-and-paper shakers?
Not her, that was for sure. Besides, she’d do or buy just another anything to make Noah smile.
Back home again, she made a turkey sandwich for lunch and settled down to wrap everything. Which was harder than it sounded. Some people—like her mother—could wrap presents beautifully. Square, flat edges to the paper, hidden seams, tightly tied ribbon.
And then there was Kristina. Whose attempts at wrapping paper always seemed to make it look like she’d balled the paper around the item and layered enough tape on it to make it hold together.
This was why she usually put everything in a gift bag with tissue paper. Seriously, gift bags were the greatest invention in modern history.
Or maybe that was computers. Whatever.
The point was, she didn’t want to use gift bags here because she wanted Noah to have the fun of tearing everything open. The anticipation of doing more than pulling a folded piece of loose tissue out of a bag to find his present.
But as she sat on her living room carpet looking at the literal mountain of kitchen supplies she’d bought, she was rethinking the wisdom of her plan. At least she’d bought a few extra rolls of tape from the gift wrap aisle.
She fortified herself with a few bites of her sandwich and chips, and then picked an easy, normal-shaped item to start. The cutting board. Really. How hard could that be to wrap?
She rolled out a big sheet of paper and laid the cutting board on it, then cut off a piece that looked big enough to wrap around it. She frowned at the cut, which was about as straight as a wet noodle. No worries. She could hide that. Besides, she could hardly be blamed when her hand was still so achy. All true. Except, when she wrapped the two sides around the board to meet in the middle, the paper was too short on the bottom half of the board.
“Freaking wrapping paper,” she muttered as she cut another small piece off the roll and taped it to the board. She wrapped the paper around it again. “There,” she said proudly. Her patchwork filled the gap perfectly. Holding the paper in place with one hand, she eyed the tape dispenser.
This was where things got tricky. Leaning over, she held the paper with her elbow so she’d have two hands to get a piece of tape—which promptly got all crinkly and stuck together. She flicked it away and got another. It applied nice and flat to the paper.
“Ha!” She threw her arms into the air in victory, then celebrated by polishing off the rest of her sandwich.
Now, for the ends. Kristina grabbed the loose paper on one ended and folded it over the board. Five pieces of tape later and that end was secured. Same on the other end and—bam! Done.
Kristina lifted the package and frowned. The ends looked like rolled-up newspaper. She turned it over. Oh. Apparently, she hadn’t pulled the paper taut either. It was all bubbled and loose.
“So what,” she said, setting it aside. The paper had a bacon design. Who was going to notice if the bacon was flat and square? Right?
An hour later, Kristina has two cuts on her fingers from the tape dispenser, a sheered-off fingernail from the scissors, and a steady ache in her hurt hand. Which all spoke to why she taught language arts and not art art. And why all her bulletin board decorations came pre-made from the dollar store. Her worst eighth-grade artist was better than her. By a lot.
Still, the pile of presents looked spectacular. Her best wrapping job ever.
As she placed all the packages into a huge blue gift bag that would make them easier to carry, her phone buzzed.
Just finished lunch with Dad and Josh. What time should I come over?
Noah.
Ha. Look at that. Perfect timing. I’m ready for you to come now, Kristina replied. She popped a chip into her mouth—and choked on a laugh when what she’d written sank in. Oh, she was ready for him to come all right. As long as she came, too.
God, she was hopeless. She dropped her head into her hand and chuckled.
“Well, let’s see what you make of that, Cortez,” she muttered. And then she couldn’t stop staring at her phone and wondering if he’d take the bait.
Chapter Seven
I’m ready for you to come now.
Clearly, Noah was a goddamn pervert, because his dick had an interpretation of that text message he was a hundred percent sure Kristina didn’t mean.
Trying something new doesn’t mean you have to give up your old favorite, does it? It would just give you something new to have in addition…
Kristina’s voice answering a question he never should’ve asked had been haunting him for the past two days. Given her inviting response, maybe he should reduce his certainty on the meaning of that text to ninety-nine percent. Because he really didn’t need to be thinking that she was flirting with him, teasing him, egging him on like a bullfighter with a red fucking flag.
After his father and Josh left his new apartment, Noah had half a mind to break in his shower before he went to see Kristina to ensure his tongue didn’t end up down her throat again. Be there in about 30, Noah finally replied.
“This is gonna be a nice place,” his dad said, pulling Noah from his thoughts. His father tore down a box and threw it on a pile by the door for recycling. Furniture aside, Noah didn’t have that much stuff, so getting him in and settled hadn’t taken very long.
Noah looked around the open-concept living/dining/kitchen area of the small apartment. Miles of white walls and bare hardwood floors gave it no personality whatsoever, but despite the fact that he was twenty-seven years old, it was the first place he could truly call his own. So Noah didn’t mind all that blank slate too much.
Blank slate.
Without the Marines shaping his life and giving it purpose, that pretty much described how he felt about himself, too. What was he going to be now that the Corps was in his rear-view mirror?
“Yeah,” Noah said, dragging a hand through his hair and doing his best to push the deep thoughts away. “And, uh, just think how much longer your food will last without me or Josh in the house.” He tossed the dirty paper plates and napkins inside the pizza box and set it with the other empty boxes.
“Speak for yourself, little brother,” Josh said, patting his stomach. “Today’s carb-overload aside,
I’ve been busting my butt to make sure I look all svelte for my tux.”
“Dude, tell me you’re not dieting,” Noah said, arching a brow. Truth be told, his brother had put on some weight over the past year or two, but he looked so damn happy all the time that Noah hadn’t really given it much thought.
Josh laughed. “Well, I might’ve gotten the looks, but you got the metabolism genes. And I have a job that plants my ass in a chair for twelve hours a day.”
Noah smirked. “Hate to tell you, but I got the looks genes, too.”
Josh flipped him the finger as their dad said, “Well, neither of you got a single iota of common sense, so…” They laughed and the teasing started all over again.
His dad joked with them, but the humor didn’t quite reach the man’s eyes. Not when they both knew that Noah’s appetite hadn’t been what it used to be. Not since he got discharged. Not since his equilibrium problems, which the docs said might never go away, often had his stomach toying with the idea of tossing his cookies. Not since losing so much of who he was and what he thought he’d be left him with a hollowness inside that no amount of food would ever be able to fill.
Hell, he’d probably eaten more Thursday night with Kristina than in the whole past week combined...
And wasn’t that realization a kick in the ass he didn’t want to examine too closely.
“If you don’t need anything else, I should fly,” Josh said. “Wedding is three months from today and Maria has a to-do list a mile long.”
“No, I’m good,” Noah said. “I appreciate the help when you’re so busy.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Josh said, clasping Noah’s hand and pulling him in for a quick hug.
Noah knew that was true. Josh had always been there for him, which meant—Noah’s bullshit aside—he needed to man up and do the same. “Let me know how I can help with the wedding stuff,” Noah said. “You know I’m free right now. Put me to work if you need me.”
“Yeah?” Josh asked, smiling. The surprise in his voice told Noah everything he needed to know about how good he’d been doing by his brother. “I will.”
Fifteen minutes later, they’d cleared out the empty boxes and his dad and brother were gone. Noah took a quick cold shower and shot over to Kristina’s apartment in the moving truck.
The last time he saw her, he’d been about two seconds away from burying himself between her legs. Today, he was going to make sure they moved squarely back into the friend zone. Things were getting too intense, too warped, too…different between them. And that seemed dangerous for both of them, because he wouldn’t be able to stand doing anything to hurt her, and hurt was all he had to give right now.
Maybe that was just how it was going to be for him. Permanently.
As he turned the truck into the long lot in front of the grouping of garden-style apartment buildings in her complex, Noah knew he needed some basic rules to get through the day with Kristina.
So, okay. No kissing. No hugging. No touching. No suggestive questions cloaked in conversations about ice cream. No fucking sub shops. In short, nothing that might lead to him fighting the basic, primal instinct to get inside Kristina Moore.
Busted-up body aside, at the core he was a goddamned U.S. Marine. And always would be. He’d looked death in the face and laughed. More than once. Even with a damaged eye and ear, he should be able to handle one twenty-five-year-old grade-school teacher on his own terms.
For fuck’s sake.
Noah took a deep breath as he knocked on her door.
“Hey!” Kristina said with a big smile as the door flew open. “I was beginning to wonder if I was gonna have to send out a search party.”
What. The fuck. Was she wearing.
Roughly cut-off white denim shorts that were so short the pockets poked out the bottom. He forced his gaze away from the apex of her thighs, where hanging threads made his fingers itch to brush them away—or unravel them altogether. A loose, worn blue halter top with a plunging neckline and skinny straps covered a breast-hugging white tank that lay beneath. Lacey blue bra straps peeked out at her shoulders. Layers of beads trailed almost mesmerizingly over her breasts and circled her ankle and wrist.
And her hair. Oh, her hair was a sexed-up dream. The mass of blond curls and waves hung flirtatiously off to one side, swept back off of her face. Noah fisted his hands against the urge to bury his fingers in all that silken blond and pull her in…
No. There will be no burying of fingers or anything else. Remember the goddamn rules.
“Nope, I’m here,” he said.
Kristina nodded, her eyebrow arched. “Well come on in, master of the obvious.”
Smirking, Noah pushed by her—without touching—and glanced around her apartment. His gaze landed on a huge blue gift bag on the coffee table.
“I have goodies for you,” Kristina said, scurrying past him. Holy hell, the denim was just as short in the rear. Her thighs looked so smooth and soft. Touchable.
“Oh, yeah?” Noah said, dragging his gaze away.
“Yep.” She grabbed the gift bag’s handles and turned to him wearing the most exuberant smile. It brightened her whole face, and it made her so damn pretty. “I am about to be your favorite person ever.”
The words did funny things to his chest. “You already are my favorite person.” It was true. All of the recent weirdness between them aside, no one had ever gotten him the way Kristina did. Even not really understanding the full extent of what he was dealing with right now, she still got him in ways no one else did.
“I know. But now I’m taking my awesomeness to a whole new level.” She held the bag out toward him.
He accepted it into his hands, surprised at how heavy it was. “What’s this for?”
Kristina rolled her eyes. “Just open it.”
“Now?” As much as he appreciated the gesture, he didn’t deserve presents. Least of all from her, who he’d been purposely avoiding for most of the last seven months.
She gave him a droll stare. “No, next Thursday. Yes, now. Come sit.”
He joined her on the couch and placed the bag between his legs on the floor. He pressed his lips together as he pulled the first package out of the bag. It was…the worst wrapped gift he’d ever seen. Really, a total vintage Kristina job. “So, you’re getting better,” he said, giving her the side eye.
Her gaze narrowed. “Shut up. I did good this time.”
“Let me see your fingers,” he said, because somehow she always gave herself paper cuts when she attempted to wrap a gift.
She stuffed them between her thighs, which eked a smile out of him. “Uh huh. That’s what I thought.”
“My awesomeness is escalating in direct proportion to your suckiness,” she said, outright scowling.
He grabbed the wrist of her uninjured hand and tugged it, forgetting that there was supposed to be no touching until after his fingers had brushed the silky skin of her thigh. She wore two Band-Aids on her fingers. “Aw, look. You risked your life. For me.”
Kristina dove for the present, nearly wrestling it out of his hands. Things went downhill from there, because his instinctive response was to hold it away from her, which caused her to half-fall across his lap. And then she was laughing and yelling at him and climbing up his body, bracing herself on his chest as she reached for the package in his outstretched hand.
Against his utter best interest, sheer competitiveness kicked in. Determined to keep her from getting the prize, Noah’s arm banded around her lower back. His grip plastered her front to his and trapped her breasts right at his eye level. Right at his mouth level.
Heat roared through his body and his cock was hard in an instant. He wanted to plunge his tongue in her lush cleavage and suck those beautiful full breasts into his mouth.
“I’m never giving you a present again, Cortez. Give it back,” she said.
“No,” he growled, breathing her scent in from up close. God, he was drowning in her. He wanted to drown in her.
<
br /> What the hell am I doing?
Shaking his head, Noah lowered his arm and let Kristina grab the present. When she jerked back, he let her go, and she ended up kneeling right next to him. Breathing hard, she glared at him, but the humor was plain on her face.
“If you want this, you’ll repeat after me: Kristina is the best gift-wrapper ever and I will never make fun of her wrapping again.”
Releasing a shaky breath, Noah nodded and dropped his hands into his lap to hide his hard-on. “Kristina is the best gift-wrapper ever and I will never make fun of her wrapping again.”
Her lips twisted. “You gave in way too easy to that. Very suspicious.”
Nope. Not suspicious. Self-preservation. Because so far Noah’s plan to follow a few basic rules was totally FUBAR. For fuck’s sake.
He held out his hand and shrugged. “I want the loot.”
Smirking, she handed it back to him and crossed her arms, the gesture plumping her cleavage.
Noah tore his gaze away. “Beautiful job, Kristina. Truly.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” she said, somewhat mollified.
He tore off the god-awful bacon paper—who even knew they made bacon paper?—and chuckled. “These are awesome,” he said, examining the heads of the superheroes closer. “You got me spatulas.”
She grinned. “Happy housewarming.”
“You didn’t have to do this,” he said, moving on to the next package. Ninja salt shakers. “I am going to have the coolest kitchen ever.”
“You totally are. We might have to have joint custody of a few things in this bag.”
“You can come visit any time you want. How ‘bout that?” Noah said.
“Well, that’s just a given,” she said.
“Of course it is. Speaking of which…” He pushed his fingers into his front jeans pocket. “I have a present for you.” Noah held out a brass key on a plain ring. “Since I have one to your place, I figured you should have one to mine.”
She grabbed it and smirked at him. “You just want me to come let you in the eight hundred times you’ll manage to lock yourself out.”
