by Zoe York
She wiped away a surprise tear and gestured at her mother and Eric. “You guys go first.”
Zander had gotten them both books—a cookbook for Miriam, signed by the celebrity chef author, and The Dangerous Book for Boys for Eric, which made Faith whimper a worried Mom-sound, but Zander made Eric repeat the inscription after him.
For Eric, who has a wonderful, adventurous spirit—and who will never forget to remember to ask permission and stay safe. Love, Zander
“Remember, bud. There’s a lot of fun to be had in life. And we only get to do it if Mommy’s content and happy, right?”
“Right.”
Zander pulled Eric into his lap and opened the book. “Here, read about slingshots while your mom opens her present.”
Faith ran her fingers over the gift. It was something hard and flat inside the wrapping paper.
Inside she found a black leather case, and when she lifted the lid, she gasped at the sight of a silver charm bracelet. One charm hung from it—a silver quill that dangled delicately as she picked it up.
“Oh, Zander, it’s gorgeous.”
He kissed her cheek, then her mouth again. “I’m testing the jewellery waters,” he whispered as she slipped it on her wrist.
“Good test,” she whispered back.
Miriam made them all hot chocolate then, and they put out a tray for Santa and the reindeer in front of the cold wood stove. “Wouldn’t want to burn Santa’s toes anyway,” Faith pointed out.
Once their mugs were empty, they all went to bed. Miriam to her room, Eric to his, and finally Faith and Zander to their room.
It was still the same as it had been when it was just her room. Other than an increased number of black t-shirts in the laundry basket and a second dresser squeezed along the far wall, he hadn’t changed anything. But in six short weeks—or four long months, if she counted from the week they’d met—he’d imprinted himself everywhere.
She turned the lock as Zander started to strip out of his clothes. They had this routine now—she’d lock the door when they came to bed, and he’d make sure it was unlocked before they fell asleep. He always left the door cracked open for Eric to crawl in with them, which he rarely did, but it made Faith feel better knowing that option was there.
Silently she followed Zander’s lead, getting all the way naked. She didn’t bother with lingerie. After she hung up her bracelet in a place of honour on her jewellery tree, she crawled onto the bed and into Zander’s arms.
He set a slow, exploratory pace, touching her all over but avoiding all the spots that would get her really revved up. She reached for his erection and he firmly removed her hand from the vicinity. “Let me just…” He ducked his head and drew the tip of one breast into his mouth.
She groaned at the tug, deep inside her.
“Yes.” He grinned up at her. “Let me just make you do that a few times before you touch me tonight.”
Cupping her breasts, he plumped them together and went back and forth until she was restless.
He slid his hands down her sides, shaping her waist and lifting her up to meet his wonderful, questing mouth that seemed intent on loving every inch of her tonight. He even rubbed his finger over her c-section scar as he settled between her legs. She squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable with his inspection, but his touch was gentle. Loving.
She still pulled away. A reflex that he calmly ignored as he chased her, gripping her hips firmly and pressing his lips to her lower belly. “Don’t hide from me.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“There isn’t an inch of your body that I don’t love, woman.”
“I know.”
“Then what is it?”
She sighed. They never talked about Greg, and right before sex probably wasn’t a good time to bring him up. “A conversation for another time, probably.”
“There is nothing you can say that will make me want you less.” He nuzzled the soft skin below her navel. “I might tell you that you’re silly, though.”
“On this point, I most definitely am.” She ran her fingers through his dark hair and tried to refocus. “Thank you for my bracelet, again. It’s beautiful.”
“Like you.”
“Stop.” She laughed as he nipped at her hip, then returned to her scar. So they weren’t avoiding it, after all.
“This is how you had Eric?”
She squirmed and nodded.
“Were you awake when he was born?”
Another nod.
“Tell me about it.”
“Another time.”
He nipped her skin again. “Now.”
She sighed. Zander always got his way. And it was a wonderful memory. “It was pretty amazing, that moment when the doctor lifted him up over the surgical draping and my baby gave his first yell. He was all red and super mad.”
“No kidding. He’d just been ripped from his beautiful mom.”
“Enough talk about my kid,” she whispered, but she didn’t mean it. She loved that Eric was always a part of their conversations, that Zander loved her child as much as he loved her. “What’s brought on all the questions, anyway?”
He traced his thumb lightly over the knotted tissue one more time before crawling up her body and turning them together on the bed. His arms pinned hers together, holding her right in front of his face. His very serious face. “Would you want more?”
“Babies?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“You want babies?”
“Hell yeah. At least one. I’ve got the big kid. But I missed out on the sleeping baby on my chest while I watch football stage. I hear that’s pretty good.”
“It probably is.”
He frowned at her, and she realized she’d said too much. Shit. There was a reason they never talked about her marriage. “Didn’t he…”
She sighed. “He loved us in his own way. But he wasn’t the type of guy to hold a baby for very long. He got up in the middle of the night and changed diapers, no problem. He was a good father. He researched first baby foods and mashed sweet potato.”
Zander rolled onto his back and tucked her into his side. “Rafe was telling me tonight he’s scared he’s going to break little Sophie.”
His endless capacity to see the best in people astounded her. “Yeah, maybe there was some of that.”
“Is he the reason you’re skittish about the scar?”
In for a penny… “We never reconnected after Eric was born. He’d seen me cut open, and it didn’t heal perfectly, and…I was changed. Irrevocably.” Zander took a deep breath and she pressed her hand against his chest. Turning so she could see his face, she gave him a soft smile. “You don’t need to tell me…It’s in the past. I need to let it go.”
“You do.”
“I know it’s not an issue between us. You’re so, so good to me in that regard.”
“Then why are we talking about it?” He kissed her, like a stubborn bull with just one thing on his mind—if bulls were also annoyingly good at psychoanalysis and unfazed by discussions of first husbands.
“Because you see inside me.”
“And why does that continue to surprise you, beautiful?”
“Okay, point taken.”
“Do you trust me, Faith?” His mouth feathered against her jaw.
“With everything I am.”
His breath warned her neck and that spot behind her ear. His lips slicked over her skin, his tongue too, and suddenly talking seemed unnecessary.
“Zander…” she breathed.
“Sometimes I talk too much, too,” he murmured as he tasted her collarbone. “Clearly I need to show you.”
For the second time that night, his hands blazed the path that his mouth followed. First her breasts, then her belly, and finally he hooked one of her knees over his shoulder and pressed the other one wide.
She’d never get enough of the quietly erotic view of Zander’s dark head between her legs.
Of the wet, determined swipe of his tongue a
long the seam of her sex, and the groan he always made when he discovered she was slick with want.
The feeling of complete worship as he licked her up and down, delving deeper once she started rocking.
No, she’d never get enough of Zander loving her. Tingly, precious heat skittered over her skin as he circled her clit with his tongue, coaxing it into a hard, swollen nub.
“Feel good?” His breath puffed against her skin—warm, moist, and shockingly intimate, even for the act, and she shuddered.
“So good,” she whispered.
Flick.
“Ahhh,” she cried out.
“Quiet.” Flick. Flick, flick, flick.
She bucked against his face, wanting more contact than that torturous flutter of his tongue, but the begging roll of her hips only got her a quiet laugh as he twisted his face and pressed his mouth against the softness at the top of her thigh.
“Please?”
“Stay still.”
“That’s impossible!”
“Nothing’s impossible.” He said it so confidently, she believed him.
Taking a deep breath, she exhaled and closed her eyes. Flick. He paused. Maybe he was looking at her. She exhaled again. Flick. Lick. Okay, staying still got a reward. She could do it after all.
He squeezed the back of her thighs and tilted her bottom up, opening her even more as his questing tongue explored her folds. Deep inside, her arousal started to coil tight, twisting a bit more with each nerve-pulsing swipe. He hummed as he covered more of her with his mouth, an open-mouthed kiss to her entire sex that made her quiver and shake. It was all so good, so intense, and as he wound her up, she stopped being able to differentiate what he was doing. It was just feelings now.
Amazing, spiralling feelings.
Love and lust.
Primal possession.
Greed.
She laughed helplessly as he sucked on her clit and he pulled away with a growl.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m so greedy,” she whispered. “I’ll never get enough of you.”
He slid a finger inside her, then another. She rocked hard against his palm and he added a third. “Good.”
“I want you inside me.”
“Then come for me, beautiful. Come for me and I’ll be inside you before you come down from heaven.” He lowered his head and swirled his tongue around her clit, once, twice, three times, matching the stroke of his fingers.
She slid one hand into his hair and pressed the other against the mattress, bracing herself as a tsunami of sensation unfurled from within. Her legs pulled up tight, then flopped wide, and even as the dark spots were clearing from the corners of her vision, Zander was all she could see—right above her.
Right inside her.
He wrapped his arms around her torso and lifted her boneless body off the bed, binding her to him as he took her hard and fast, spilling himself deep inside her.
Merry Christmas, her lust-drunk brain murmured as she held him close.
One of his hands tangled in her hair and he pressed his lips to her neck. Merry Christmas indeed.
— TWENTY-FIVE —
JANUARY brought a change of pace for everyone. Miriam was visiting her friend in Florida. Eric started skating lessons. Zander and Dean started their business plans in earnest, with both of them planning to be at it full-time by the fall.
And Faith was on deadline again. She’d warned him about it, but the last time she’d been finishing a book, he’d just left her and they were only talking once a day or so. Somehow he’d missed the fact that she literally holed herself up in her office every waking second that she wasn’t being Mom.
He’d woken up at six that morning to a cold bed. He went downstairs and made coffee. He poured himself a cup and left it on the counter, because he’d be back in a minute to make breakfast. Back upstairs, he knocked on her office door.
“Mmmm.”
He pushed the door open. She had a “Faith only” rule for her office that he respected most of the time, but when she hadn’t slept much and he was bringing coffee, it was a pretty safe violation to make.
He quietly set the cup on the coaster to the left of her keyboard, then stood behind her chair until she sighed and looked up. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
He shook his head as he stroked his hands over her neck and shoulders, loosening up the tension there for a minute before he left her alone again. “Nope. Just woke up and wanted coffee. Thought I’d make you some too.”
“Thank you.” She tipped her face up to give him an absent-minded kiss. “Might finish today.”
Miriam had warned him that she’d say that at least five or six days in a row before it was actually true. But then again, Faith’s mother had scampered off to Florida after the Christmas holidays, leaving Zander to truly discover the craziness that was Writer Faith at her apex all on his own.
Not that he minded at all. She was unbelievably cute when she wandered into bed, all bleary-eyed and bonelessly exhausted. And that was balanced out by her S.O.S. text messages when she needed choreography help on the action scenes, which he never tired of helping with.
Same with the sex scenes.
Living with a writer had some definite perks.
When Eric woke up, Zander gave him a cup of milk and two small bowls, sugar and cinnamon.
“Thought today might be a good day to make that pie for your mom that we talked about,” Zander said. “You mix those together while I cut the apples, okay?”
“There’s dough, right? Can I roll that?”
“Sure thing, bud.”
They worked well together, and Eric didn’t complain too much when Zander reminded him that a good baker always did his dishes while the pie was in the oven. While that was baking, he cooked a dozen hard-boiled eggs and sautéed some mushrooms, garlic and green pepper.
The smells must have finally wafted under her office door, because just as the pie was coming out of the oven, he heard her pad into their bedroom and turn on the shower. Ten minutes later she strolled in wearing today’s version of her writing uniform, yoga pants and a goofy t-shirt. This one had a picture of a T-Rex drinking from an oversized wine glass. Wine-o-saur. Cute.
“What on Earth are you guys making?”
“Pie,” Eric proudly announced. “For you.”
Faith’s eyebrows shot up and she gave Zander an appraising look that made him flex his shoulders. “You baked this?”
“With some help from Eric, I did indeed. My mother taught us all how to bake. I’ve worn an apron and wielded a wooden spoon since before I could talk.”
“Wow, I’m impressed.” She narrowed her eyes. “And I’m wondering why we’ve always gone to Greta’s for pie if you can make it?”
He pulled her close and kissed her nose. She knew why he liked taking her to Greta’s. “I love you.”
She grinned at him. “And I love apple pie.”
“Argh,” he cried, grabbing his chest before he winked at her. “That’s why I made it for you. Love my pie, love me.”
“Of course.” She looped her arms around his neck. “I love you with all my heart. It’s just that pie has this extra-special place in my heart.”
“Oh yeah?” His pulse grew heavy. He knew this feeling. Anticipation. Fear that the anticipation might not be met.
But she’d proven to him over and over again that he had no reason to fear her commitment to him. Her loyalty.
Her love.
Even when she was terrified herself, she found a way to fight for them, and she always would. That’s why he baked her this pie—to say, we’ve had each other from the very first moment we met.
And that’s why he’d gone ring shopping.
His entire body warmed, a heady excitement flooding his limbs as his heart swelled in his chest.
“How long until pie?” Eric asked, totally uninterested in the fact his mom was being wooed.
“It has to cool,” Zander said. “Let your mom have her breakfast first, an
d then we can have celebratory pie after that, deal?”
Eric gave him a thumbs up. “Deal. Can I go play?”
Zander and Faith nodded at the same time, which made her laugh.
She kissed his jaw once they were alone. “I meant what I said about the pie. I met the man of my dreams over a slice of pie. He taught me about katanas and sawed-off shotguns. He makes my kid breakfast and plays the big-bad enforcer on not eating sugar until at least second breakfast and preferably elevensies. And most importantly, he taught me that life was for living.”
He caught her lips with his own, kissing her until she was breathless. “And not for living alone anymore, right?”
She grinned. “Right.”
“I’ve been thinking…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t say it quite right last time.”
“What?”
“I love you.”
“Oh, I like it anyway you say it.” She winked at him and he picked her up and swung her around. He needed a bit of space to do this right.
Setting her in the middle of the kitchen, he took a deep breath and looked her right in the eye. “I-way ove-lay ou-yay.”
There. That pink-cheeked, lips-parted, talk-dirty-geek-to-me look. That’s what he wanted. Her gaze softened to a sexy doe-eyed look that made him want to sweep her off to bed and keep whispering things in Pig Latin, and they’d get to that once her book was done and their kid was asleep for the night, but the next thing needed to be said here.
On bended knee.
She gasped and pressed one hand to her chest as he lowered himself to the floor. “Zander,” she whispered. “You’re crazy.”
“Razy-cay or-fay ou-yay,” he murmured back, taking her other hand. “O-say ou-yay ould-shay arry-may e-may.”
“What?” Her brow pulled together as she tried to follow what he was saying. Maybe there was a limit to proposing in code.
“I’m crazy for you,” he repeated, his voice unexpectedly full of emotions. Rough like sandpaper and catching on every third syllable. “So you should marry me.”
“I got that.” She pressed her lips together. “Really?”
Shit, was she going to say no?
