His words aren’t just about the tree and the decorations. They’re about the light in Tabby’s eyes. The peace on his own face. The warmth filling the spaces that were cold and empty for so long. He leans down, his lips brushing mine.
“How can I ever repay you?” he asks, a mischievous smile on his lips.
Chapter 22
Holly
“Oh, I can think of a few ways,” I say, smiling softly and looking deeply into his eyes.
“Do you think you can be quiet? Because Tabby is a great sleeper, but I’d hate for her to wake up while we’re…”
“You won’t hear a peep out of me,” I reply, feeling butterflies in my stomach thinking about crawling into Denton’s bed with him.
His smile turns wolfish. Before I can say more, he takes my hand, his fingers lacing through mine with gentle firmness. Without a word, he leads me down the hallway as my heart pounds against my ribs.
We pause at Tabby's door. Denton turns the knob with practiced care, pushing it open just enough to create a sliver of space. The glow from her nightlight flows into the hallway as we both peer in.
She’s curled on her side, her dark hair spilling across her pillow, one arm wrapped tightly around her stuffed polar bear. Her breathing is deep and even.
Denton closes her door with the same careful precision, the latch barely making a sound and we continue down the hallway to the last door. He pushes it open, and I step inside.
Like the rest of his apartment, the space is minimal but thoughtful. A king-sized bed dominates the room, its gray duvet pulled taut, corners folded with perfect angles. Two simple nightstands flank it, each holding only a lamp and, on one side, a well-worn paperback.
A dresser stands against one wall, its surface bare except for a single framed photo of Tabby and a small wooden box. The walls are a light gray, bare except for a few black and white photographs of nature landscapes.
He quietly closes the door behind us and locks it, testing the lock just to make sure.
In two strides, he's standing before me and then his mouth is on mine, urgent and possessive. I arch into him, my hands gripping his sweater, pulling him closer.
The kiss deepens, and I taste the lingering flavor of tomato sauce and herbs from our pizza dinner. His tongue slides against mine, and I make a small sound in the back of my throat.
His hands slide down my sides, fingers playing with the bottom of my sweater. He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes.
"Yes?" he asks, his voice husky as his fingers tug gently at the sweater.
My heart hammers. "Yes," I nod quickly, wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on my skin again.
He pulls the sweater over my head in one smooth motion, his eyes fixed on me as he takes in the pale pink lace bra I'm wearing. This time I wore my best lacy lingerie in hopes that this would happen.
He moans with pleasure while he traces the outline of my bra. I pull his sweater over his head desperate to feel his warm body next to mine. He pulls me in close, kissing me passionately.
His skin is hot beneath my fingertips as I run my hands across his chest. The defined muscles tense under my touch.
"I've been thinking about this all day," he whispers against my lips, his fingers tracing the lace edge where it meets my skin.
"Me too," I admit, my voice breathless as his mouth moves to my neck, trailing kisses down to my collarbone.
His hands slide around my back, unfastening the clasp of my bra and. It falls away, and I fight the momentary urge to cover myself. Instead, I stand before him, letting him take me in.
His hands cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I gasp at the sensation. He walks me backwards toward the bed.
The backs of my knees hit the mattress, and I sink down onto it, looking up at him as he towers over me.
He reaches for his belt buckle, unfastening it with quick efficiency. In one smooth motion, he pushes both his jeans and boxers down his muscular thighs, stepping out of them completely.
My eyes widen as I take in the sight of his naked body. He's impressively hard, the tip glistening with precum in the dim light of his bedroom. I feel a rush of heat between my legs.
I scoot forward on the bed and pat the edge of the mattress, inviting him to sit. He settles beside me, and spreads his thighs slightly. I slide off the bed onto my knees between his legs, my hands running up his strong thighs.
