Page 78 of Rematch
She gave him a breathy laugh. “Just bend?” she asked, with enough emphasis on the word that he knew she wasn’t ready to break the rule.
“Just bend,” he vowed.
She didn’t reply. Instead, she did one better, initiating the kiss, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, then his hair.
He loved the way she gripped it tight, tugging until his scalp stung, ensuring his lips didn’t leave hers. Preston was a big fan of kissing. Always had been. He loved the intimacy of it, loved how much could be expressed by the simple act of touching lips.
But Chelsea took kissing to the next level. Because, while she was holding back from him emotionally, none of that hesitance was present when she kissed him. She was an all-in girl.
With one hand, he cupped her cheek as the other locked around her waist. He held her tightly, hoping against hope she would let these kisses linger. Hopefully, all the way to the midnight feeding. He wouldn’t mind making out with her for a few hours.
When she shifted, he worried she’d hit her limit on bending…until she moved over him, straddling his lap.
Thank you, Santa Claus.
Apparently, he’d been a very good boy this year.
Chelsea released her grip on his hair, her hands sliding over his shoulders to his waist, gripping the soft cotton T-shirt he’d thrown on after Lennon’s bath. Breaking the kiss, she gave him an adorably shy look, biting her lower lip for just a moment.
“Do you think it would be bending too much if you took your shirt off?” she asked, a blush blooming on her cheeks. “While your Christmas wish was the bedtime routine, mine is to see your b…chest again.”
Her slip of the tongue made it obvious she wanted to see the whole package, but he didn’t expect to get more than the kisses tonight, so it wasn’t like he was going to put up a fuss.
Reaching behind his head, he gripped his shirt at the nape of his neck and pulled it off in one quick swoop.
Chelsea leaned back, her ass perched on his knees.
It took everything he had not to grasp that peach-shaped ass and pull her tight against his crotch. The only thing stopping him was the way Chelsea’s eyes lit up as her gaze slid over his now bare chest.
“Sometimes…this past year…I told myself I imagined how hot you were,” she whispered, as if revealing a secret.
The grin he gave her was half amusement, half understanding because… “I did the same thing,” he confided. “I thought if I convinced myself you weren’t as awesome as I remembered, I’d be able to move on.”
Her gaze flew up, connecting with his. “It didn’t work.” She wasn’t saying it didn’t work for him but for her. Either way, she was correct.
He shook his head. “It sure as fuck didn’t.”
He toyed with the hem of her T-shirt. Like him, she’d changed into more comfortable clothes after Lennon’s bath. Preston suspected she’d packed the silly holiday pajamas because they were practical and cute and, in her mind, not the least bit sexy. The long-sleeved tee was green with red sleeves with a colorful drawing of a reindeer, whose antlers were adorned with tree lights. The words “Lights Out” were emblazoned above it.
The holiday lights reminded him of the ugly sweater he wore the night he met her, recalling the way she’d made fun of him for affixing them with shipping tape.
As far as pj’s went, hers revealed nothing, and yet they were sexier than any lingerie he’d ever seen.
“Is this a tit-for-tat situation?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows when he said the word tit.
Chelsea huffed out a breathy laugh. “I suppose that’s only fair.”
Preston’s cock thickened the second she’d nestled against him for the movie, riding at half-mast throughout the whole damn film. Now, it completed the journey to rock-hard, despite the fact he knew there would be no happy ending.
There wouldn’t be until she realized what he already knew.
Their future together had been revealed that night in Philadelphia, and destiny had sealed the deal the day he’d walked into Sugar and Spice Bakery.
He knew it all the way to the depths of his soul.
But Chelsea wouldn’t let herself see that yet. Not because she was being willfully stubborn or dismissive but because she genuinely believed she was protecting their son’s heart. There was no way in hell he could be upset with her for that. Hence, the practicing of patience.
Chelsea started to take off her shirt, but Preston pulled her hands away.
