Chapter 55 Bram
brAM
I’d never really been sure what people meant when they said they were “on cloud nine.”
I knew it meant they were happy, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever been that kind of happy, because it sounded pretty fucking happy and the truth was I wasn’t sure I’d ever been even a little bit happy before the last month.
But now? Well, now I was on cloud fucking nine, not just because Maeve had hugged me, which had been pretty fucking epic, but because she’d been happy. And not just because she’d been happy, but because I’d made her happy.
I’d been worried sick about the dog: would she like it, would she want to deal with it, would she think I was crazy?
But she’d loved it and she seemed more than happy to deal with it and if she thought I was crazy I was pretty sure it was the good kind of crazy.
Hours later, I was still so amped I could hardly sit still. I went out to do some business with Poe while Maeve and Remy got Ray settled and then went over the accounting for that month, but none of it was enough to keep me from feeling like I wanted to run a marathon or three.
It was almost midnight when I finally gave up and went downstairs, looking for a snack.
I’d expected to find the house quiet, the kitchen empty, but Maeve was still in there, the lights low, the Christmas tree shining in front of the window.
She didn’t hear me come in, and I leaned against the wall, watching her beautiful face as she bent to inspect a cake with white icing, gleaming scarlet cherries perfectly spaced around its border.
I still wanted to fuck her — like crazy, if I was going to be honest with myself — but somewhere over the past month I’d started wanting to make her smile just as much. I wanted to make her laugh.
I wanted to make her happy, the way I had with the Christmas tree and the dog.
Somewhere along the way what I could do for Maeve had become a lot more important than what she could do for me and my permanently hard dick.
I’d never felt that way about anyone before, except maybe my sister, but that was different.
Obviously.
I shifted and Maeve looked up and scanned the shadows before her gaze landed on me.
“Hey,” she said. “What are you doing up?”
I caught the flicker of anxiety in her face and hated myself for it. She was like that with me, because of me. Because the last time we’d met in the kitchen late at night I’d treated her like shit instead of like the most important thing to ever happen to me.
I pushed off the wall and walked toward her. “Can’t sleep. What’s your excuse?”
“Same,” she said. “But I have a lot of cooking to do anyway. Although I will admit it’s hard to leave my new cuddle buddy.”
I felt a flare of jealousy until I realized she was referring to Ray.
“How’s he doing?”
She smiled. “Good. He’s asleep in my bed.”
Lucky Ray.
I looked at the cake. “You don’t have to work so hard for us, you know. We don’t need anything fancy.”
She smiled. “I enjoy it. And honestly, I want to give you you guys a fancy Christmas dinner.”
“Why?” It was an honest question. Maybe Remy and Poe deserved nice things, but it was hard to put myself in their company.
“Everyone deserves a nice Christmas dinner.”
“Even me?” The question was out before I could stop it.
Her expression softened. “Especially you, Bram.”
Hearing my name in her mouth made me feel all gooey inside, like the cinnamon filling in one of Marv’s maple bars after I’d put it in the microwave for twenty seconds.
I pulled my gaze away from her face by force, afraid of what I might say or do next. “That’s some cake.”
“It’s Black Forest,” she said. “Have you ever had it?”
“I don’t think so.”
She smiled. “You have a sweet tooth and you’ve never had Black Forest cake?”
I grinned. “I never claimed to be high-brow.”
She hesitated, then reached into one of the drawers to pull out a knife and a triangle-shaped serving utensil I didn’t even know we owned.
I watched as she walked to the cupboard to pull out a plate.
She lifted the knife to cut into the cake.
“Wait!” She looked up. “You can’t cut that now if it’s for Christmas.”
“I can do whatever I want. It’s my cake.”
I wanted to stop her, but it seemed like a bad idea. Our last kitchen altercation loomed large in my mind: the pumpkin cupcakes, Maeve shoving a whole one into her mouth until I had moved on her like a wolf, fucking her until she’d shoved me away when I’d refused to kiss her.
I stopped a few feet away as she sliced cleanly into the cake. She cut a piece, then lifted it out with the triangle-shaped server and set it on the plate.
My mouth watered. The chocolate cake looked rich and dark, red cherries spilling from the middle along with what looked like more of the whipped cream that topped the cake.
She took out a fork and pressed it into the cake, then held out the bite. “Taste it.”
The cake wasn’t all I wanted to taste, but I had to admit it looked incredible.
Way better than Snickers.
I leaned in and closed my mouth around the fork, then closed my eyes as the almost bitter chocolate cake hit my tongue along with the sweet cherries and the creamy filling which was miles better than any whipped cream I’d ever tasted.
I chewed slowly, savoring every burst of flavor, never wanting the bite to end. Maeve had made this with her own hands. She’d stirred together the ingredients for the cake, had poured the cherries for the filling, had worked whatever magic had been necessary to make the light-as-air whipped cream.
When I opened my eyes, she was staring at me.
“Is that… almond?” I asked, trying to name the undercurrent of flavor still on my tongue.
She beamed. “Yes.”
“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Our gazes were locked, the lights from the Christmas tree casting a glow over her face. There was too much to say and I didn’t know how to say any of it.
I wanted to kiss her instead but I wasn’t about to risk another knee in the balls. Even more important, I wasn’t about to risk setting myself back with Maeve.
My voice cracked when I spoke. “You’re going to have to come to me this time.”
She didn’t move at first and I thought maybe I’d misread the moment.
Then she came around the island and stopped in front of me. She hesitated before wrapping her arms around my neck. The softness of her body against mine was almost obscene and I stifled a groan.
Her eyes shone like the brightest lights on the tree. “Your move.”
I hesitated, then lowered my head to hers.
I nuzzled her neck, breathing her in: strawberries and vanilla and sugar. As good as the cake had been, I knew it wasn’t going to hold a candle to Maeve’s mouth, and I took my time, pressing my lips to the satiny skin behind her ear, kissing my way along her jawbone to her mouth.
When I got there I looked into her eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry, Maeve. I’ve never been so scared of wanting something because I’ve never wanted something — someone — as badly as I want you.”
“Stop talking and kiss me.”
I pressed my mouth to hers. It felt like a sacrament and for a long moment I didn’t dare move a muscle.
I didn’t need to.
Nothing could be better than Maeve’s lush lips under mine, her arms around my neck, every curve of her body molded to my own.
But all bets were off when I slipped my tongue between the seam of her lips.
Because my body had a mind of its own when it came to Maeve — just like my heart.