Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Tonight, we won.
I think that’s why there are tears. When Maxim’s father said he would no longer put pipelines on protected grounds, it was a victory I didn’t ever think I would taste. And in this fight, the victims often outnumber the victories. For centuries, our dreams had no borders, our lives, no limits because everything we could see, as far as we could see, belonged to us. Now ours is a displaced dignity, constantly fighting for our place—every acre, every plot, precious. And tonight, just the tiniest bit of that was restored. In a trail of broken promises, tonight one was guaranteed.
The door opens, and Maxim walks in. For just a second, my damp cheeks and red eyes make me self-conscious, but our glances connect, and the acceptance and devotion remind me I have nothing to hide or be ashamed of with this man. He closes the door, walks to the bed, and sits on its edge.
“Hey, you.” He brushes the hair off my face, cups my cheek, and caresses my mouth with his thumb. “You okay?”
“Hey, you.” I trace his dark eyebrows with my finger, follow the sculpted bevel of bone at his cheek, and touch his full lips. “I’m good.”
“You sure? Did my father upset you? I know he can—”
“No, at no point tonight did he upset me. Not when he challenged me to resume my place with your campaign.” I drop my eyes to the richness of the silk robe. “Certainly not when he told me about the pipelines. I’m… I think I’m overwhelmed. I never expected it.”
“I don’t think he ever expected to actually do it,” Maxim says dryly. “It took a lot. He’s been working up to it.”
“You made him?”
“No. I told him if he didn’t accept you in my life, there wouldn’t be a place in mine for him. He said I could tell you there would be no more Cade pipelines.” He pauses, takes my hand, kisses the center of my palm. “I told him to tell you himself.”
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. He immediately 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.”
“My childhood 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’t here.”
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.”