He nodded. “Everything okay?”
She moved to him, slowly, uncertainly, and stopped just short of touching him. “Yes. You?”
A single nod. His expression remained full of suspicion. “Yeah.”
“Um, we’re not gonna be weird now, are we?” she asked. Because she figured, if so, it was better to just get that whole situation out of the way, seeing as it was Christmas freaking Day and all.
He chuffed out a little laugh. With one hand, he grasped her by the neck and pulled her in against his bare chest. “Weird is kinda SOP for me, Emma, but you just keep calling me on it when it gets to be too much.”
Her arms went around him and she nuzzled his chest and breathed him in. He smelled faintly of soap, and more strongly of sex and her and the two of them together. She dragged her nose along his skin on a deep inhale, wanting to drink him in. When she neared his nipple, she flicked his piercing with her tongue.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist,” she said, peering up at him.
His mouth came down on hers. The kiss was deep and lingering. When he pulled back he shook his head. “Never apologize for that.”
She smiled. “I have to take Chewy out and then I’ll make us some breakfast.”
“I can take him out,” he said. “I want to do a quick walk around anyway.”
Her gut dropped at the reminder of the reality that had thrown them together in the first place. But she also wanted to enjoy this day with him, and for him to enjoy it, too. “Okay. Any requests for Christmas morning breakfast? Do you fall more in the bacon-sausage-eggs protein camp or the pancakes-waffles-toast carbs camp?”
“If I eat it’s usually just an apple, so anything you make will be special.” He gave her another lingering kiss. And then he swiped his shirt off the floor and crossed to where the rest of his things were folded. “I need you to know something and I don’t want you to be alarmed,” he said, tugging clothing over his head. First, a form-fitting black Under Armour shirt that looked really freaking sexy. Then the white tee and black hoodie.
“Um, okay?”
Caine picked up a pair of black Under Armour pants. Beneath lay a handgun in a small holster. “Just to be on the safe side,” he said. “And in case you’re wondering, I have a permit for it.” He held it up to show her, and then he slid it into his jeans at the small of his back. It attached with a clip.
Her pulse kicked up. Because a gun brought home just how potentially dangerous this situation was. A man had tried to grab her. Knew where she lived and worked. And had violated both of those spaces in one way or another. And beyond her, now Caine could find himself in danger, too. “Oh. Of course.”
“Does it make you uncomfortable to have a gun in your house?” he asked, stepping into a pair of well-worn black boots.
Emma hugged herself and gave a little shrug. “I mean, I don’t love it. But I understand it. And it’s not like you’re asking me to shoot it.”
His gaze cut toward her. “You should probably know how.”
This was the strangest Christmas Day conversation ever. “I’ve fired guns before. I dated a Marine in college, and he was kind of a gun nut. We only lasted two months, but we went to his gun club a few times and I learned the basics of shooting.”
“Well. All right, then,” he said, surprise plain in his voice.
“See? I’m not all sweetness and innocence.” She smirked. She liked surprising him.
Caine finished tying his laces and slanted her a sexy look. “Good to know. Now, tell me what Chewy needs. Just a pit-stop in your yard? A walk around the block?”
“The yard is fine for now, but, er, depending on how deep the snow is you might have to clear him a place to go.” She grimaced. “The snow shovel’s in the stairwell that goes down to the basement door.”
“Got it.” Caine crouched near where Chewy lay upside down on the blanket. “You want to go outside with me?” The dog flopped right-side-up and spun around excitedly. “I think that’s a yes,” Caine said.
“Above and beyond,” she said, a little moved at seeing how nice he was to her dog. That might not seem noteworthy to some people but it meant a lot to her.
“Oh, sweetness,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “Not even close.”
Chapter 13
That term of endearment wouldn’t stop playing over and over in Emma’s ears, which meant she couldn’t stop spontaneously grinning. Or maybe the giddiness was from the two orgasms and the amazing sex. Or waking up in a man’s arms on Christmas morning.
Emma freshened up and put on a pair of fleece leggings and one of her favorite long sweaters. The super-soft red cashmere had been a gift from her grandmother three years ago. And even if that hadn’t been true, Emma would’ve adored the sweater anyway for its asymmetrical hem and loose cowl neck.