I love it.
When I step into the kitchen, I see a tray of cinnamon rolls which is ready to go in the oven. This is something I asked Salvatore’s mom to do for me. My mom always made cinnamon rolls for Christmas morning when I was growing up. It was atradition we never missed even when my dad’s obligation to the family meant adapting during the holiday season.
Even though I can cook, I didn’t want to fuck up making the cinnamon rolls. Salvatore’s mom was more than willing to help me out. The note on top of the lid has directions for cooking them and I notice the icing in a separate container.
I’m sure Sal had to tell his mom there was a woman involved. I just hope she doesn’t go off and tell my mom before I get the chance. Talk about a fucking disaster.
But there’s no doubt in my mind that next year my parents won’t be planning any trips around the holidays. They will love Dove and won’t hold her past and the choices she made to survive against her. My mom will probably just hug her harder because of it, knowing she needs a little more love.
As I set the oven to preheat, I start to grind some espresso beans to make a drink to start the day for us. I plan to wake up my woman with some breakfast in bed. Then I’ll be keeping her in bed for a little while.
“What are you putting in the oven?”
Dove’s voice from the doorway has me spinning around to face her. She’s rubbing her eyes and stretching. I blow out a breath because my woman is not observant when she first wakes up. It’s surprising considering she’s normally on edge. I like to think she knows she’s safe here.
If she had seen the presents under the tree already, she would be spitting mad and glaring at me. Fuck, she’s adorable.
Her body is wrapped up in a bright floral silky robe that barely covers her ass. I let out a groan and have to fist my hands at mysides to stop myself from throwing her over my shoulder to carry her back to bed.
“Cinnamon rolls.”
She perks up instantly as she looks at them and licks her lips while tiptoeing closer. Then she looks at me and pouts. “You weren’t in bed.”
I can’t help but chuckle as I hook an arm around her waist and pull her against me. I love feeling the way her curves mold to my body.
There’s a soft smile on her face as she looks up at me with her chin propped on my chest. “You didn’t notice the tree, did you?”
She blinks up at me a few times before glancing over her shoulder toward the kitchen doorway. “No,” she holds out the word as she looks back up at me and shakes her head, “what did you do with the tree? The lights were on, but I kind of just stumbled in here without paying attention.”
Her eyebrows pull together as if she’s confused about why she didn’t pay closer attention. I get it, observing everything was one way she coped and helped protect herself.
I can’t help but grin down at her.
“I think you should work up an appetite by opening some presents.”
Her mouth tips down into a frown while a crease forms between her eyebrows. I reach up and smooth out the skin between her eyes and make a tsking sound.
“What presents?” She tries to pull away from me, probably to go and see for herself, but I don’t let go of her and hold herin place against me. “There wasn’t anything under the tree last night when we went to bed,” her voice is high and tight.
Dove struggles against my hold and there is panic in her eyes. “Take a breath,” I coo. “There was no way I was going to allow our first Christmas to happen without spoiling you. No way in hell.”
When she swallows hard, I watch her throat move and my mouth waters. I want to taste her skin on my tongue, but I hold back. If I indulge in her now, I won’t be able to stop.
And I want her to open her presents.
I pick her up and love the way her arms twine around my neck as she holds on. She doesn’t cling to me like she’s afraid of me dropping her. That hint of trust has my dick throbbing, but I ignore it.
When I step into the living room and move around the couch, Dove’s mouth drops open, and she lets out a gasp.
“Angelo,” she admonishes me, “this is far too much.”
I nuzzle her neck and murmur, “It’s not nearly enough.”
It’s not difficult to sit down next to the tree and position her in my lap. “Wow,” she breathes out, the twinkling lights on the trees reflecting in her eyes.
One shoulder of her robe slips down her arm, and I let out a soft growl of approval. When Dove looks up at me, I can tell that she wants to be mad. But she’s not.
“Come on,la mia pace. Open your gifts and then we’ll have some breakfast.”
