from the sound of it, her mother doesn’t have a lot in common with them either.
I ignore the voice in my head pointing out that my mom would love both Chloe and her mother—as long as she never found out about their Russian mafia connection.
“You want to watch a movie or a show on TV first—or did you want to just rip each other’s clothes off?” I murmur in her ear as soon as we’re inside the town house. My arms are around her waist.
She twists around with a laugh. “Do you mind if we watch something first? I’m just going upstairs to change into something more comfortable.”
“While you do that, I’ll take Whiskey out. We won’t be long.”
His paw is doing better, and he decides he would rather walk himself instead of being carried. I click on his leash, and we head outside.
“What’s your opinion on decorating for Christmas?” I ask him as he sniffs the ground.
He gives a little bark and lifts his leg to pee.
I guess that answers my question.
“Yeah, that’s pretty much my opinion, too.”
Sarah, my girlfriend who was in a coma, died two weeks before Christmas. Like Chloe, she loved decorating for the holiday season. Her apartment. Her car. Even her clothes and her hair.
After she died, decorating for the holiday season didn’t have the same meaning for me anymore.
Whiskey finishes his business, and we go inside. He heads for the living room. I go upstairs to change.
When I return a few minutes later, he’s lying next to Chloe on the couch. I plonk down on the other side of her.
“What are we watching?” I ask before checking the screen.
It takes less than a second to figure it out. The San Francisco Rock hockey commentator’s voice is the dead giveaway.
“You’re watching hockey?” I ask, even though it’s obvious she is.
She smiles and nods.
Without realizing what I’m doing, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her closer. She cuddles into me, her head on my shoulder. It feels nice. Better than nice.
At one point during the game, a Rock player is in the penalty box for high sticking. A Vancouver Canuck player passes the puck to his teammate, but Travis Hamilton intercepts it. Then he and his fellow teammate, Elias Lawson, race to the other end, narrowly missing being called offside.
It’s a battle between them, the Canuck goalie, and a defenseman. The final seconds of the period tick down. Eleven. Ten. Nine. Hamilton shoots the puck at the goal, and Lawson tips it in.
The Canuck fans groan while the splattering of Rock fans jump to their feet, cheering.
They aren’t the only ones cheering.
When Hamilton and Lawson stole the puck from the Canuck player, Chloe had shifted to the edge of the couch, body stiff.
As soon as the puck flies past the goalie and the red goal light indicates that the puck went in the net, she’s on her feet, cheering. “Did you see that? Ohmigod, that was amazing.” She settles herself on the couch next to me, her face glowing in the dim light.
I barely register the horn signaling the end of the period. My gaze is locked with Chloe’s, the goal quickly forgotten. All I can focus on is the woman cuddled next to me.
Her lips separate slightly, and I lower my head. I press my mouth against hers. With a stuttering sigh, she lets me in.
The sigh goes straight to my cock.
The tip of my tongue traces her lower lip. A needy gasp releases from her, and her mouth opens to me.
I sweep my tongue inside. She tastes like the sweetest wine. So good.
She leans back, resting her head on the couch cushion. Enabling me to deepen the kiss.
I take full advantage of it.
Faint puppy snores on the other side of her tell me that Whiskey won’t be complaining about this anytime soon. I shift slightly and lift my hand to just below her chest, tracing my thumb along the band of her bra hidden under her light-knit sweater.
When she doesn’t protest, I move my hand up an inch and brush my thumb across her nipple.
She moans in my mouth, giving me the signal I so desperately need. I continue teasing the bud as it tightens under the fabric.
I’m not the only one making the most of the intermission. Chloe tugs the hem of my T-shirt up and slides her warm hand under the fabric. Her fingers graze across the ridges and valleys of my abs.
I suck in a sharp breath and