Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(79)

She watched him with a hungry gaze, as if she couldn’t get enough of the sight of him. Holly reached for him as he moved back over her, running her hands all over his body. “Mine,” she whispered, her gaze fascinated as she ran her fingers down his arm. “All mine.”

Damn. There was nothing hotter than his woman being possessive. Hungry for her, his body aching, Adam moved over Holly, kissing her as he fit his hips against the cradle of hers. She was warm and wet and ready for him, and he rocked against her, rubbing his shaft against her folds, reveling in the feeling of her underneath him.

“Want you, Adam,” she panted. “Inside me.” She gripped his ass, dragging him against her. “Quit being such a tease.”

It broke his control, her demanding. He loved that, and it made him wilder for her than ever. With another drugging kiss, Adam pushed into Holly, claiming her. She moaned against his mouth, eagerly lifting her hips to meet his thrusts. When he finally came, he collapsed on top of her, stars dancing at the edge of his vision.

Holly sighed, the sound one of utter contentment. Her hands traced over his back as he lay atop her, trying to catch his breath. “I love you,” she said again. “I hope you don’t get tired of hearing that.”

Never, Adam decided. Never ever.



* * *



? ? ?

They stayed up late, making love once more before finally collapsing into sleep. Adam woke up before dawn with Holly in his arms, his body curled around hers, and Hannibal at the foot of the bed, and he felt a deep sense of contentment.

Unfortunately that deep sense of contentment didn’t feed the cattle, which meant he needed to get out of bed soon. He rubbed Holly’s arm lightly, watching her sleep, lingering for just a little bit longer. To his surprise, she rolled over and smiled up at him, her eyes shining.

“Merry Christmas,” she said, beaming.

“You should go back to sleep.” He leaned down to kiss her. “It’s before dawn. Sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t,” Holly promised. “I was just thinking.”

“About?” His hand slid down to cup one of her breasts. Maybe he could linger in bed a little longer . . .

“Profiteroles,” she said. “I think I’m going to make some today.”

“Prof-what?” he echoed, pausing.

“Profiteroles. Cream puffs. I think I’m going to make some today.” Holly smiled up at him dreamily. “I feel like baking. I want to bake everything.” She reached over and patted his waist. “I hope you’re ready to eat some sweets.”

“Already did, last night,” Adam teased. “Or . . . wait, you mean baking?”

Her groan at his joke was utterly delightful, and Adam decided maybe he had a few more minutes to spend in bed after all.

It was Christmas.





EPILOGUE





One Year Later


Holly fiddled with her scarf, trying not to seem too anxious.

“You look beautiful,” Adam reassured her as he drove, not taking his eyes off the road. “My brother’s not going to care about your clothing.”

“I care,” Holly retorted. “I want to look good for the inevitable photos.” She flipped the mirror down in the car and checked her lipstick and smoothed her hair. This was her first chance to meet Mike and Mary, Adam’s brother and his wife. They’d been invited up a half dozen times in the last year once they’d found out that Adam and Holly were in a committed relationship and had moved in together, but the timing had never been quite right. Adam couldn’t leave his job for extended periods of time and Holly had her own business to run. With the Christmas holidays, though, they were stealing away a week of time to visit family.

Or at least Adam’s family. Polly was staying at university through the Christmas holidays again, but she’d been down for Thanksgiving with her new girlfriend, so Holly couldn’t complain. Polly was happy, and Holly had liked Esme immensely—she was exactly the quiet, thoughtful, study-absorbed type that would be perfect for her sister. For Christmas, Holly had sent them a deluxe tray of macarons in every single flavor that her Baked-to-Go truck offered. She had the same sitting in the back seat for Adam’s family, along with a fleet of gingerbread men, a fruitcake, and a yule log. Holly glanced backward, checking the boxes of baked goods again, as she had over and over for the long drive out to Iowa.

“Do you think we brought enough stuff, Adam?” Holly fretted. “We could stop by a grocery store and pick up some ingredients and I can make them a cake once we arrive—”

“Hol.” Adam glanced over at her, chuckling, as he turned down a country lane, snowy fields on both sides of the road. “Babe. You’ve made more than enough. They’ll be eating sweets for weeks to come.”

“Not if your brother eats anything like you,” she teased back, putting her hand on his thigh and squeezing. “They’ll be gone in two days.”

Adam just grinned over at her. “Is it my fault if you’re talented?” He patted his waistline, where he swore he’d put on a few inches in the last eight months, ever since Holly had moved in with him. Holly thought he was full of crap, because he still had washboard abs despite the fact that he ate like an absolute maniac. “This is a holiday,” Adam told her, as he had repeatedly on the drive. “I want you to relax and enjoy yourself.”