Page 58 of Season's Schemings
The sound of it makes my heart speed up, pounding in tandem with her inhales.
I take a step closer (if you can call it a step), closing the remaining inch between our bodies so that we’re standing flush together. I flash her a devious smile. “If you wanted to get this close to me, you could’ve just gotten rid of that pillow wall in our bed, you know.”
She looks left, then right, her cheeks reddening like she’s suddenly deeply second-guessing her shut-us-in-the-pantry decision.
“What I want is to know why you’re making such a big deal over the damn cookies?”
“Because nobody puts Maddie in the corner,” I quip. “I would offer to try theDirty Dancinglift with you to accompany that statement—I think I’d nail the move, personally—but I’m afraid we’d smash the pantry to pieces and people would think we are up to no good in here. Or lots of good, depending on how you frame it.”
She lets out a shaky laugh. “What in the name of Father Christmas are you talking about, Seb?”
“What I’m saying is that you should be loving every minute of seeing Adam squirm out there. But instead, you’re acting like you’re still afraid of hurting his feelings. Like you need to lurk in his shadow so as not to upset him.”
Her eyes grow even bigger and rounder as my words sink in. To further convey my point—excellent husband that I’m aiming to be—I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers skimming her cheekbone. This draws a shudder from her that has me continuing on, sliding my hand behind her neck.
“You deserve to be celebrated, Maddie. Deserve to be praised. Deserve to have all of those people look at you and talk to you withwaymore respect. And I’m pulling double duty as your husband to help you get everything you deserve.”
She gulps, which I don’t blame her for, because it suddenly feels like there’s no air in here. Everything feels hot and feverish, and every place our bodies touch feels electric. She’s staring up at me, pupils dilated, breath coming shallow through those full lips…
Full lips that are begging to be kissed.
“You’re special, Maddie.” My voice is so full of gravel, I barely recognize it. “And I’m going to do everything in my power to show you just how special you are.” I lean towards her and close the space between us, everything in me suddenly desperate to know how sweet she tastes.
She tilts her face up, eyes fluttering closed, and a little gasp escapes those parted lips.
“Show you how beautiful you are,” I murmur as I move closer still, my own eyes closing.
Because she is. My wife is gorgeous.
And I plan on damn well making sure she knows it.
“What’re you guys doing?!” The sound of Adam’s voice makes the heat in my veins turn to ice and my eyes fly open.
Maddie and I spring apart—not that there’s far to go—and I look down at her. She’s still wild-eyed and breathy, her skin hot and her expression dazed, and I curse Adam under my breath. He shouldreallyfollow the advice on the sign Dot gave him and try not being a dick.
With a regretful smile, I run the pad of my thumb over Maddie’s bottom lip, drawing a full body shiver out of her. Then, I lean down to whisper in her ear. “Guess I’ll have to show you later…”
And with that, I reach past her, grab the doorknob, and throw the door open. I may or may not be hoping toaccidentallysmoke Adam the Absolute Buzzkill in the face with it.
No such luck, though. He’s standing a couple feet away, arms crossed.
“Ah, sorry,” I say, making sure I don’t sound in the least bit sorry. Which is very un-Canadian of me but necessary right now. “We just can’t seem to keep our hands off of each other, right, Mads?”
I sling my arm around my wife, who’s stepped out of the pantry after me, cheeks the color of my hockey jersey.
“Right,” she says. And she sounds like she means it. Which I, again, like way too much.
Adam glowers at us in a way that makes me want to laugh. And with his tacky, jingling Christmas sweater, the green hat that Elizabeth asked him to wear (for “fashion,” apparently), and his glasses sitting slightly crooked, he’s giving me pretty intense flashbacks to the Whobilation scene inHow The Grinch Stole Christmas.
“Oops, forgot the cookies.” I reach back into the pantry and pull the tray off one of the high shelves, and then, I look straight at Maddie. “Shall we get back to the group, love? Give out the delicious cookies you made?”
Maddie laughs a perfectly sweet laugh. “You mean the cookieswemade, babe.”
Adam’s face is redder than I’ve ever seen it, and for a moment, I’m mildly concerned for his health. But then, he turns on his heel, uttering a supremely mature, “Hmpf.”
As we follow him back to the dining room, I’m smiling confidently and Maddie looks half-proud, half-mortified.
“Sorry for the delay, everyone, but I promise that these are worth the wait.”