Page 93 of Rage

“It’s almost ready,” I said, swatting the hand that was reaching for the bacon. “You can wait.”

He grumbled. “I’m starving.”

“You can wait five minutes while I get the pancakes ready.”

He groaned, the vibration rumbling against my neck. “Please.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way my skin ignited under his mouth. “Go help Parker with the table.”

Hendrix ignored my request, nibbling at my neck. His hands slid under the hem of my flannel pajama top, gliding along thebare skin of my stomach until he reached my breasts. Squeezing them, I tilted my head back against his. A moan left me when he squeezed my nipples. He ground his hard cock against my ass, his intentions clear.

He wanted me. And I wanted him. But not here. The last thing I wanted was to have my daughter walk in on me having sex in the kitchen.

“Paisley,” I groaned.

He grumbled, taking a step back. “Breakfast smells good,” he said, heading for the fridge. He opened it, pulled out a carton of juice, and headed for the table.

Paisley entered next, her hair frazzled as if she smelled the bacon and hurried down without brushing it. She headed straight for me, grabbing my arms and together we danced in circles around the kitchen. Her smile was bright as she sang the lyrics to “Jingle Bells” while we spun.

I pulled her to me, squeezing her into my chest.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Momma,” she said. She pressed a kiss to my cheek, still smiling.

For Paisley and me, Christmas Eve was more magical than Christmas Day. We started the day with a hearty breakfast before taking a ride around in my late father’s vintage Stingray. A car that Shane and I worked to fix up. Then we spent lunch at the local homeless shelter handing out care packages.

We’d spend our evening cooking and playing board games, then curl up in our matching Christmas pajamas with a cup of hot chocolate and watch our favorite Christmas movies. We’d stay up on the couch way too late in an attempt to catch Santa leaving presents in the act.

Christmas Eve was always my way of making a special memory for her. When we lived in North Carolina where Kyle lived, He always spent Christmas Day with her. After I moved to Georgia, he wound up getting her for Christmas break everyother year, but I’d drive the four hours to spend Christmas Eve with her when it was his year. It was a way I could always have holiday memories without making her ever feel like she was missing out on anything.

“Merry Christmas Eve, baby,” I whispered, returning her kiss.

Hendrix returned to the stove, manning the pancakes before they burned, and I continued to dance and sing with Paisley. Happiness panged inside of my chest. It didn’t fill the hole that was left in my heart, but it eased the ache.

Shane and Calder opened the screen door that led from the back of the house into the kitchen. They were covered in grease as they kicked off their boots and left them on the shoe mat by the door. Shane smiled, a flash of white teeth presenting themselves as he plopped onto the chair in the kitchen.

“Stingray is ready to take out for a spin,” Calder said. He met me and Paisley, pressing a kiss to the top of our heads. “Filled her up with gas, fixed the flat tire, and even put a new air freshener in there.”

A grin pulled at my lips. I was so grateful for these guys. They’d gotten the car ready for us without me even having to ask. The offer reminded me of how different my life was now. The overwhelming feeling of being loved by not just one man, but four? Well, I don’t think I could ever get used to all of the affection I had now.

“Thank you,” Paisley said.

“Go wash up. Breakfast is almost ready,” I said, glancing at Shane, then back to Calder.

Shane gulped down a glass of orange juice before he stood from the table. When he walked by me, he ran his knuckles along my cheek. Paisley pulled him into a hug, burying her head into his chest.

“Thanks, Shane,” Paisley said.

“You’re welcome, kid,” he said, flattening his hand to the top of her head and ruffling her hair.

And God. How lucky was I that my daughter had four men to look up to, and to show her how she should be treated? Unbelievably lucky. There was no measurement for the amount of gratitude I had. There weren’t even words to describe the emotions I was feeling. Love wasn’t powerful enough of a word. It didn’t even scrape the surface.

The End.

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