Under the Mistletoe with Me (With Me in Seattle, #1.5)(7)

I roll my hips, and gasp as the tip of his cock brushes against my clit.

“Ah, baby, you’re so wet,” he murmurs against my mouth and pulls back to rest his swollen head against my labia. I press my feet against his ass, urging him inside.

“I want you.”

With a growl he pushes inside me, burying himself to the root, and rests his forehead against mine. I gasp at the intrusion, my body still unused to making love after giving birth to our daughter, but he stills and lets me acclimate to him and the tiny pain subsides.

“You feel so good.”

“I’ve been doing my kegels.”

“Gazoontite.”

I burst out laughing, tightening around him, making him moan. “It means I’m exercising the muscles down there to tighten them back up from the pregnancy.”

“I know, I just love it when you laugh when I’m inside you.”

I grin up at him and take his face in my palms. “I love you, Eyes.”

He crushes his mouth to mine and moves faster, harder, grinding his pelvis against my clit with every stroke in and I feel the building inside me begin, my muscles tighten, my thighs clench. I grip his hair in my fingers and throw my head back as I come around him, surprised at how strong my orgasm is, and so happy that my body is starting to feel back to normal again.

“That’s right, baby, I wanna feel you come on my cock.”

“Shit!” I wrap my legs more tightly around his hips as I spasm around him, and I feel his own orgasm work its way through him. He thrusts once, then again and grinds into me forcefully, spilling himself inside me.

He collapses over me with a big sigh, rests his cheek on my shoulder and murmurs, “Only you, babe.”

***

I wake alone, disoriented. There’s a full moon shining brightly, illuminating the room. The bed is cold where Isaac was asleep a few hours ago and the house feels still.

I rise from the bed, stretching my arms over my head, feeling the pull of muscles well used this afternoon from our unexpected and hot lovemaking. I grin and push my hair back from my face. Perhaps we need an encore.

I wonder where he is.

I pad quietly down the dark hallway, expecting to go downstairs and find him in the kitchen, but as I pass Sophie’s room, I hear Isaac’s voice, speaking in hushed tones. The dim light on the dresser is on, sending a shadow across the hallway floor. I peek in, to see Isaac rocking gently in the lovely, plush sage-colored rocking chair he got me when I was pregnant. Sophie is resting in the crook of his elbow, suckling a bottle, her big blue eyes watching her daddy’s face.

God, I love them.

Isaac brushes his hand gently over her little head and smiles down at his daughter.

“You’re as pretty as your mommy, you know. I hope you get her hair. I love the color of her hair.” He’s whispering down at her, like they’re having a deep conversation, and Soph’s eyes are pinned to his, listening while she eats.

“You have her temper too, don’t you?” I grin to myself and lean my forehead against the door frame, listening out of sight. “That’s okay, it just means that you know what you want. You’ll give some poor bastard a run for his money. But not until your forty.”

Sophie sighs. “Okay, burp time, baby girl.” I hear rustling as he settles her on his shoulder to pat her back. “What should we get mommy for Christmas?”

As much as I really, really want to stand and eaves drop, I decide I’ve heard enough and walk into the room. God, she looks so small against his wide shoulder and with his big hand on her back. He glances up and grins at me.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I woke and you were gone, so I thought I’d come find you.” I kiss Sophie’s soft head and inhale her baby smell and then lean over and kiss my sweet husband’s lips.

“Her highness was hungry.”

“So I see,” I reply with a chuckle. “You’re so good with her.”

“I hope so, she’s stuck with me.”

“Yeah, that’s not such a bad deal.” Sophie has fallen back to sleep. “Let’s put her back down and go back to bed, Eyes.”

He smiles. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”





Chapter Four


“Why in the name of all that’s holy is it always so much colder at Christmas tree farms than it is anywhere else? Do they secretly have A/C piped in vents under the trees or something? Because I swear to God, it was not this cold at home.” I shift side to side, trying to keep warm and lift the blanket I have covering Sophie to check on her. She’s snuggled in her sling across my chest, warm as can be, sleeping soundly.

At least one of us is warm.

“I know how to warm you up, baby.” Isaac winks at me and flashes a wolfish grin and I can’t help but laugh.

“Yes, I’m aware, but I’m not taking my clothes off out here, buddy. So which one do we want?”

We are wandering around a tree farm, Isaac with axe in-hand, trying to find our Christmas tree. I’m not exactly sure why we’re getting a real tree, especially one we have to cut down ourselves, when I have a perfectly good fake tree in a box at home.

Isaac thinks that Sophie needs a real tree for her first Christmas.

“You know, Sophie isn’t going to remember this tree, Isaac. The fake tree would be fine.”