Coke grunted, breathing fucking hard.
Dillon grinned. Now they’d have to snuggle and dry off. Everyone knew you didn’t dare go out in the snow all sweaty.
Coke’s hand landed on his belly, solid and warm.
“Mmm. We could have a snack. A nap…”
“’Kay.” Coke was almost asleep already, Dillon could tell.
They would nap. Eat. Coke would end up doing housework. They might get out in the snow by tomorrow.
It was warmer in bed anyway.
Chapter Ten
Coke grabbed another handful of snow, packed it tight, and threw, the snowball sailing over the yard, two bassets leaping after it.
Lord, that was fun.
He’d been out God knew how long, throwing and watching, waiting for Dillon to wake up and tell him to come make breakfast. He was shivering some, but it was worth it to watch the babies run and play. Pansy was one hell of a leaper, and Jerome? Well, Jerome was a lot like his namesake, quick and focused, just not real good at jumping.
“Coke?” Dillon sounded like he was laughing, which was a good sign. “I got hot towels.”
“Yeah?” He could handle that. He was feeling the cold deep, now. He whistled up the beasts and headed in, leaning to give Dillon a kiss. “Morning, honey.”
“Cold!” Dillon’s lips were warm, and that mouth tasted like coffee. Woo. Drink of the gods.
He slipped his hands into Dillon’s robe, searching that belly.
“Coke!” Man, Dillon could do a girly squeal. The puppers danced and barked, like they were laughing too. Silly mutts.
“Hmm? You’re all toasty.” He chuckled, nibbling on Dillon’s lips, snuggling in. “What you want for breakfast, cowboy?”
“Naked Coke? Your clothes are all frozen.” Dillon started stripping him down, and hot towels appeared out of the oven, along with his sweats. Oh, damn.
His eyes rolled, the heat perfect, making his knees buckle.
“I got you, babe. Sit and have a coffee.” His slippers were all warm, too, from sitting right next to the stove. Dillon grabbed him a cup of coffee, then dried off the pups, got them curled up in a blanket.
“Did you see them running?” He settled, drinking deep from his mug. “Pansy can catch her some snowballs.”
“She can. Jerome can outpace her, though, on sheer speed. We’ll make you snow bunnies yet, eh?”
“It’s not bad, honey. Not at all.” He stretched up tall, trying not to wince at the aches. “So, what’s on your plan for today?”
“I have no idea. At some point, we need to food shop.” Dillon got him orange juice and aspirin, then went to the fridge.
“That sounds good. You got a grill?” Coke could grill in this stuff. Probably. He managed in ice storms at home okay.
“Uh. I think so? It’s under a tarp.” Peering out the window over the sink, Dillon shrugged.
He chuckled, grinned. “I’ll go see so I can make you food.” He could make burgers in the house, but they were better outside.
“Later, babe. We can have omelets. I can do that.” That fine ass started bouncing. Dillon always had to dance sooner or later.
Coke chuckled again and leaned back to watch. “Nattie texted this morning—wanted to know if we had room for them at Thanksgiving. He’s taking Tracy and the babies to Mexico for the holidays after.”
“Sure, babe. You’ve seen my house.” The house certainly would hold everyone, and Dillon didn’t seem the least bit upset.
