Page 84 of Praising the Pitcher

“Merry Christmas to you too.” Warmth spreads across her face, and she looks toward the window. “Wow, it’s really coming down out there.”

“Yep,” I say, following her gaze. “Looks like we’ll be snowed in all day. Alone.”

She flips onto her stomach before she crawls on top of me, kissing the stubble on my jawline.

“Is that so?”

“Yep,” I say, swallowing as she kisses my neck.

“How ever will we pass the time?” She shows me a different side of her, rasping the words before she kisses her way to my earlobe.

She must be sore, and yet here she is, ready for more.

My cock stirs, but I flip her onto her back, pinning her to the bed by her wrists.

“Damn, my baby is a horny little thing,” I murmur against her neck, loving that she’s wearing my T-shirt with a pair of panties.

“Mhmm,” she coos, reaching for my cock and giving it a stroke through my boxers. Instantly, I grow harder, and I grimace when I break the news to her that before I fuck her again … she needs to eat something.

“No dick for you, Smoke,” I say, hovering my lips over hers. “Not until you eat breakfast.”

She flashes me a pout, stroking my length again before she skims her hand along the waistband of my briefs. “You sure about that, King?”

I drag in a frustrated breath, sighing.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,” I grumble, kissing her neck before I force myself to slide off the bed, tugging her along with me. “Yes. You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. And even at dinner with my parents, you barely touched your food.”

I know because I watched her all night, trying not to be obvious since she had just gotten back from a date with fuckhead Benny. She put a few things on her plate, probably not to be rude to my mom, but she hardly touched anything.

“And sugar cookies don’t count,” I say when she opens her mouth to plead her case.

“Even if I ate like five of them?” She cringes. “Because I did. Eat five.” She looks ashamed. “Sugar cookies—or cookies of any kind, really—have never been around. And they were just so good.”

I fight a chuckle, knowing she’s a health nut. Not really by choice. I think her dad made her this way. So the fact she treated herself to some of Cameran’s sugar cookies? I’m all for it.

Balance is important, and I hope with time not being under her dad’s thumb, she’ll learn that.

“Yeah, they don’t count,” I say, tugging on the pair of sweatpants I wore here last night. “But I’m glad you liked them. I’ll have her give you the recipe.”

“Oh, I don’t bake,” she says quickly. “I cook eggs, toast, mash up avocado, and can make a mean sandwich and grilled chicken. Aside from that, I’m useless in the kitchen.”

I laugh at her honesty. Thoughts of yesterday come back in my mind, and I want to ask her if Benny took her to lunch, and if he did, where did they go? I want to know what else they did, but her words flash through my mind. I need to trust her, and trusting her means we’re starting fresh. What happened with her and Benny yesterday, it has no place in this moment now. I know that, but still, it’s eating away at me.

This Christmas will be unconventional at best, seeing as she can’t cook and we didn’t go to the store. There’s a Christmas tree downstairs, but we don’t have gifts for each other. Yet, I know somehow, it’ll be special anyway. And maybe, once the storm has passed, we’ll be able to go see my parents.

Where I can rub it in Haven’s face that I didn’t fuck it up and Gigi wants to be with me.

GIGI

We settle for cereal, and even though in the past I’ve never been one for sugary breakfast foods, we found eight different types to choose from and decided to go wild.

I’m eating Frosted Mini-Wheats, which makes me feel like I’m being both healthy and living on the edge at the same time. We sit side by side at the kitchen bar, the sound of me laughing hysterically filling the downstairs.

God, why is this man so funny?

Being that attractive and talented, plus having a good sense of humor, should be illegal. Because how can a girl like me possibly stand a chance?

He finishes his cereal, which was likely the unhealthiest I’ve ever seen—Fruity Pebbles. Ironic, considering he was telling me I had to eat something and cookies didn’t count. Rich coming from a man at risk of being in a sugar coma. Not to mention the number of artificial dyes …