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“Night, Basky,” she murmured and nodded back off. It had been a long, busy day, and she was exhausted. I should be as well, but I had so much coffee coursing through my veins I felt as if I could swim the length of Seneca Lake a few times and still have energy left over for a jog.
“Night, butter bean,” he called while picking up coffee cups, plates, and napkins.
Undressing and dressing Kyleen was fun. Imagine trying to wiggle a jellyfish into footed sleepers. After a small argument about the safety of sleeping with a teapot, we settled on placing the pot on the nightstand where she could see it.
“I love Mr. and Mrs. Huda. Will they be my grandparents?” she asked around a big yawn as I folded her new dress and placed it in her pretty pink suitcase.
“Oh, well, I don’t know, baby. Basky and I like each other a lot, but we’ve not talked about marriage.”
“Okay. If you do talk about it, I vote yes. I always wanted a grandma and poppy to have tea with.”
She dropped off immediately. I bent down to kiss her on her soft cheek and then turned off the light. The very masculine room fell into darkness but she would be safe sleeping under the watchful eye of a Bryn Mettler poster on the far wall.
With the nightlight from her room that we had brought along—don’t leave home without it—I eased out of Liam’s room, closed the door gently, and turned to find Baskoro standing by the tree with a small box with a bright red bow in his hands. The living room was tidy, the sound of a dishwasher running in the kitchen.
“What’s in the box?” I asked as I closed the distance.
He shrugged. “You have to open it to find out.”
“Well,” I commented as I grew closer. “It’s not your dick because it’s far too small of a box and you’re holding it way too high.”
He snorted in amusement at the SNL reference, the heater coming on to blow some soft strands of his hair into his face. I reached up to smooth them from the new whiskers on his jaw. His lashes lowered in pleasure, and he held out the box as his eyes reopened.
“I really want to take you to bed right now,” I confessed. He smiled a wicked smile but jammed his present into my chest. “Fine, I get it.”
“Seriously, I’ve been waiting all day to give you this and I am not lying down for a sound dicking—”
“Oh, so you’re so sure you’re the one getting dicked? What if I wanted to get dicked?” I teased as I lifted the slightly heavy box from his hands.
“We’ll flip a coin then.” He gave the ribbon a tug. “You’re such a dawdler. Open the damn thing already.”
“Stop being such a gremlin,” I said, turning from the man who had shown zero patience for opening his gifts earlier. Honestly, he went at his presents like a Tasmanian Devil spying a long-eared, sarcastic gray wabbit. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
“Bet you won’t say that later,” he teased, slipping up behind me to cinch me to him, his chest to my back, his hands resting on my belly.
“Probably not,” I admitted as I loosened the bow and lifted the lid. Inside lay six gold and red candles in thick glass jars. The aroma that burst out of the box was intoxicating, heady with spices that tickled my nose. I glanced over my shoulder at him and got a wink. “You got me candles?”
“Yeah, for bedroom use only. Here, check it out.” He stretched an arm around me, lifted one, and showed me the label. “They’re all Lord of the Rings inspired. So this one is a ranger and it’s got pine and white beech bark. Then there’s one for a wizard and one that’s for elves and I didn’t dare sniff the dragon one, but I bet it smells like a lizard.”
I had to kiss the man. I just had to. So I wiggled around in his arms, box of candles between us, and put my mouth over his. He responded as he always did, with a passion that robbed me of breath and reason.
“These are amazing,” I whispered when the kiss ended.
“Want to go to my room and light up that ranger one? I bet he’s a randy ranger.”
“One second,” I said, handing him the candle then digging into my pocket for his gift. He smiled widely as I placed the necklace into his open palm, his other hand still holding my hip.
“Oh man, this is beautiful.” He held it up, the gold pendant spinning softly in a circle, the lights from the tree making it glow red then blue then green. He let go of me to stop the circling, his brows knitting as he tried to read the tiny inscription on the outside. “What language is this? At first I thought it was Thai, but it’s not.”
“No, it’s Vulcan calligraphy.” His mouth fell open, his eyes flared in surprise. “It reads talunk nash-veh k’dular, which translates to ‘my cherished one’.”
He swallowed softly, eyes growing misty, and then kissed me with every bit of emotion his long, strong body contained. I pulled him close, weaving my tongue with his, as the necklace rested between my shoulder blades, his hands resting around my neck.
“It is the most perfect gift ever,” he whispered over my lips. “I’ll carry it with me everywhere so that when I see those words I’ll know that you cherish me.”
“I do,” I told him on a rustle of breath. “Cherish you, Baskoro, so damn much.”
“I really want you to dick me down just like a Vulcan in pon farr.”
