Page 125 of The Rebel King

It would have meant a lot coming from Maxim, but hearing it from Warren Cade, seeing him gulp down his pride, meant even more.

“Thank you,” I tell him, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Heimmediately turns his head, captures my lips with his, and runs his hands down my back to palm my butt. I pull back, affecting a shocked expression. “Why, Mr. Cade! Not in your childhood bedroom.”

“Mychildhood bedroom? We’re not sleeping in a bassinet.”

I catch my bark of laughter in my hand. “Oh, my God. I don’t want to disturb your parents.”

“You won’t. Their bedroom is basically in another zip code, and I’m sure the walls are soundproof. Thank God. I didn’t need to hear that as a kid, and I certainly don’t want to.”

“Well, maybe I should give you your Christmas present now,” I whisper, making my look and my voice seductive.

“Yes, please,” Maxim replies, squeezing each cheek in one big hand. “I’ve been such a good boy this year.”

“Close your eyes.” I pull back and point my finger right in his face. He zeroes in on it, crossing his eyes comically.

“Don’t make me laugh,” I choke.

“You just laughed.”

I wag my finger in his face again. “Stay right there and close your eyes.”

He obeys, and I crawl across the mammoth mattress to the bedside table and pull out a gift box.

“Open your eyes.” I present him with the box and bite my lip to keep from laughing.

He opens those peridot eyes, lifts his brows, and takes the small, rectangular box from me with a smile. “I thought we were opening gifts with my parents in the morning.”

“I have another one. This is just something small.”

“You spoil me.” He pulls the ribbon and pops the top off the box. His shout of laughter draws an answering giggle from me. “Lube? You got me lube for Christmas?”

He leans over, pressing me until my back hits the mattress. His hand explores beneath the robe and under my gown. I laugh when he kisses my neck and palms my breast.

“Maxim, no! We can’there.”

He lifts his head, looking both affronted and mystified. “You can’t give a man lube and then deny him anal, Nix. That’s just cruel.”

“It’s a gag gift.”

“It is not a gag to me. It’s basically a promissory note. This is you promising me anal.”

“Yes,” I hiss, laughing and pushing his shoulder, which doesn’t budge. He keeps hovering over me. “But not here. Not in your parents’ house. It was a joke, Doc. Ha, ha, funny.”

“A gag gift is like…a whoopy cushion with holly on it, not dangling that pretty, tight little asshole at me and then telling me I can’t have it tonight.”

“You ruin everything.” I chuckle, my laughter fading when I look up to find his eyes intensely fastened to my face. “But I love you.”

“Same, Nix. Same.”

A breathtaking tenderness filters into the dark center of his eyes and softens his expression. Inexplicably, tears sting my eyes again. Before I can even grasp what this is, he slaps my thigh playfully, shattering the mood. “I’m going to slip into something more comfortable and then come back for some run-of-the-mill missionary sex.”

“Bastard.” I swallow the unexpected emotion, forcing a laugh, and sit up to watch him undress.

He crosses over to the dresser and rifles through the drawer for a few moments, back turned to me. My heart might burst, I love him so much right at this very second.

“Dammit,” he mutters, fumbling with his sleeve. “Babe, these stupid cufflinks. Can you help me?”

He walks back to the bed where I’m seated and proffers his wrist.

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