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Christmas was my favorite holiday, but I was slow to get up. Trouble had woken me once more, and I didn’t want to get out of bed. Oliver, ever chipper, got up before me and took the carrier out of the room. I assumed he was feeding the puppy and starting to train him to pee on the pads or outside on the patio. I fell back to sleep and was next awakened by Oliver as he pushed up my t-shirt to place kisses on my back.
“Merry Christmas,” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep.
“Merry Christmas to you. Are you planning to get up?” Oliver’s voice was warm, playful.
“What time is it?” I asked, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.
“A little after eight. Trouble is fed and napping on his doggy bed.”
“Did he pee?” I asked, my maternal instincts kicking in even as I remained buried in the sheets.
“Yes, and poop. He’s smart,” Oliver replied, a hint of pride in his voice.
“I hope he won’t soil any of the carpets,” I said, finally opening my eyes.
“I didn’t get him without expecting such. He’s a puppy. Accidents will happen. We can have the carpets cleaned.”
“You’re very agreeable this morning,” I noted, smiling at his optimism.
He moved the covers off my behind and gently bit into my ass cheek. “You have to admit you’re the only one I’m agreeable with, and that’s all the time.”
“Not always,” I teased, turning to look at him.
“But most of the time.” He continued to rain kisses on my body, heating me and making my core flood with desire. I knew my panties were probably soaked when he came up for air.
“I’d like to make love to you before we shower. Is that possible?” he asked, his eyes darkening with want.
“You’re negotiating?” I arched an eyebrow, half-amused, half-aroused.
“Will it work?”
“Why don’t we do it in the shower? Kill two birds with one stone.”
“Now that sounds like a negotiation.” Oliver scooped me up against his body, and it was then I realized he was wearing a sweat-soaked gray t-shirt.
“You worked out?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes. You said I’m getting older, so I need to keep in shape.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re gorgeous.”
I was sure I wasn’t. My hair was probably a matted mess, and I didn’t wash my mascara off last night, leaving me with raccoon eyes. It was confirmed when Oliver put me down to undress in front of the vanity mirror.
“Ugh, look at me,” I said, cringing at my reflection.
“I have, and I am,” he said, pulling off his shirt and discarding it in a hamper at the bottom of the linen closet.
“I think you need glasses.”
“I have them.”
“For reading. I think you need them all the time.”
“What kind of superficial ass do you take me for? I love all of you, no matter what you look like on the outside at a particular time.”
I turned to face him, his sincerity melting away any lingering insecurity. “You always know the right thing to say.”
