“Thank you so much for dinner,” Zoey told Lorrie as the older woman pulled her in for a squeeze.
“My pleasure, honey,” Lorrie replied. “And don’t forget to tell your father he doesn’t have a choice for Christmas. I’ll come over and pull him out of his house myself if I have to.”
“She’ll do it, too,” Curtis groaned as he patted Zoey’s shoulder. He was careful with her, and he claimed it was because she was fragile in her pregnant state, but she knew Curtis didn’t know what to do with girls, considering he’d raised seven strapping boys.
“Oh, I know she will,” Zoey told him. “But don’t you worry, I’ll bring him this,” she said as she held up a large Tupperware container, “and I’ll tell him at the same time. He won’t be able to refuse.”
“We’re looking forward to it,” Lorrie said with a smile. “If you need anything at all, just give me a call.”
“Absolutely. And the same goes with y’all,” she reminded them. “Oh, and one more thing,” Zoey added. “Do you mind if I help with Christmas dinner? I’m not the best cook in the world, but I’d love to come over and help.”
The way Lorrie’s crystal blue eyes brightened had tears forming in Zoey’s eyes. Damned pregnancy hormones.
“Honey, I’d love that.” Before Zoey knew what was happening, Lorrie threw her arms around her, pulling her close once more.
Refusing to cry, because, well, because she would look like an overemotional wreck, Zoey took a step back and grabbed Kaleb’s hand. “All right, well, I’ve got to get him home so he can figure out how to put my Christmas decorations up.”
And just like she expected, Kaleb groaned.
Little did he know, but she had a few tricks up her sleeve. There was something to be said about bribing a man to do the hard work. And with him, she knew food wasn’t the easiest way to get him to comply.
Chapter Three
♂♀
Zane
“What’d you think?” Zane asked after he and V had jumped in his Jeep for the short ride back to their house situated on his parents’ land.
“About what?”
“The tree. Good grief, woman. What’ve you been doing all day?” He laughed.
Pulling up close to the house, Zane parked and then hopped out. He was in a hurry to get inside, but it didn’t have anything to do with the temperature. The weather was surprisingly mild for November, but then again, this was Texas, so cold weather didn’t normally infiltrate their neck of the woods until a little later in the year.
“Awww, did you need a pat on the back, Zane Walker? Or maybe a cookie for being such a good boy?” V teased as they made their way up the steps.
Pushing open the door, he rushed her inside as she stared back at him like he was crazy.
And he was.
Crazy mad with lust.
Watching her all day, unable to run his hands all over her sweet body but wanting to sneak her off and make her scream his name had been pure and utter hell.
Looking at V, he kept his expression serious as he said, “I’ll take the cookie.”
Shutting the door behind him, Zane stalked her farther into the house, his body humming with the need to get inside of her. He would’ve thought that the more time that passed, his craving for her would subside. Quite the opposite actually. Zane found that every single day he wanted her with a renewed hunger.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes wide, a knowing smile on her lips.
“I’m pretty sure you just promised me a cookie,” he said, pursuing her across the main living area. “And I automatically assumed that cookie was a code word for…” He let the sentence hang, she could fill in the blanks.
V continued walking backward until her butt ran smack into the pool table in the far corner of the wide open space.
“Mmmm,” she moaned when he trapped her between his body and the unmoving pool table. He pressed up against her, their bodies touching knee to chest, his cock heavy and aching as he ground himself intimately between her thighs. “Why does it always lead right back to this pool table?”
“Because you’re so fucking hot laid out on it,” he explained, his wandering hands taking on a life of their own, deftly slipping her sweater up and over her head. “Damn, I like this one,” he said, referring to the red and black bra that she wore on rare occasions, usually when she wanted to get him all worked up.
At this point, she could’ve been wearing plain cotton underwear, and he wouldn’t give a damn. The goods were what was underneath all that satin and lace.
“I knew you did,” she whispered, slipping her hands into his hair and pulling his face closer to hers. When her lips were hovering mere inches from his, she whispered, “You should see the other piece that matches it.”