I couldn’t think of anything I didn’t have right now . . . except for one thing. But I knew wishes didn’t take away the past. They couldn’t change what had been done. So instead, I said a small thank you for what I’d been given and blew out the candle.
Mase began slicing a very large piece of cake and took a fork and looked up at me. “Come sit with me.” He nodded to the white chaise longue that sat in the corner overlooking the gulf.
He sat down and opened his arms for me to sink into. I was half on top of him when his arms wrapped around me.
“That piece is too big,” I said, eyeing the red filling.
“We’re sharing,” he informed me. “Open up.”
I did as he said, and Mase slid the bite into my mouth. The sweet cream of the icing and the raspberry filling were delicious. “Mmm,” I said approvingly.
“I like watching you eat. And feeding you,” Mase said, as he scooped up another piece of the cake. He started moving it to my mouth, but I shook my head.
“Your piece,” I informed him.
“Watching your tongue dart out to lick your lips and listening to you moan is so much better than me eating this cake,” he said, and he rubbed some of the icing on my mouth.
I opened my mouth, trying not to laugh as he slipped in another bite.
“Yeah, there comes that tongue,” he said, sounding completely fascinated with watching me eat my cake.
I finished chewing and swallowed, then shook my head again. “I need a break in between bites,” I told him, laughing while he held another piece up to my face.
“I like your boots,” he said, instead of arguing with me. “I want to see you in nothing but those boots.”
My purchase had been well worth the cost.
“Please eat more for me. It’s so fucking sexy,” he begged, running his nose up my neck.
Giggling, I turned and looked at him. “How is me eating sexy?”
Mase smirked, ran a hand down my back, and squeezed my ass. “For several reasons.”
“You take a bite,” I said, picking up the fork and holding it to his mouth.
He ate obediently, and I kissed the icing off his lips.
“I can see the advantage of me eating it, too, now,” he said when I pulled back.
Smiling, I leaned back against his chest and enjoyed the view of the crashing waves in front of me. My legs tangled with his, and he continued to feed me. I let him.
Because I loved this man.
Mase
Reese had given up on the piece of cake, and I’d finally put it down. I had to admit, just seeing her eat it satisfied me, knowing it was a birthday cake that I’d picked out and given to her.
I shifted so she could settle between my legs. I pulled her back against me before giving her the first present.
“Happy birthday,” I said, picking up the largest box sitting beside me.
She gasped as she took the box. She glanced back at me before looking at the box again. “You got me a present?” she asked, amazed. “I mean, I thought you were my present, but this . . .”
Smiling, I kissed her temple. “No, this is your party, and I’m your only guest, because I’m selfish and wanted you all to myself. And this is your first present.”
“My first?” she asked, and I nodded.
Then she surprised me. She tore into that gift like she was five years old. Watching her open it was more exciting than feeding her cake, and that had been pretty damn exciting.
When she had the lid off the box, she pulled out the baby-blue Michael Kors purse I’d had Blaire help me pick out.
“There’s a matching wallet in there, too.”
She touched it reverently as if it were made of fine gold instead of leather. “This is expensive, isn’t it?”
Not really. It could have been worse. But I’d told Blaire to be practical. Reese needed an everyday purse, not something she would be too nervous to carry.
“It’s a nice purse for you to use instead of the backpack,” I explained.
She grinned and put it back into the box, then turned to me and kissed me softly on the lips. “Thank you. That’s the nicest gift I’ve ever gotten.”
This wasn’t over. I reached down and picked up the next present.
“There’s more? I thought you were kidding.”
“You better believe it.”
Again, she tore into it like a little kid, and I found myself wishing I had videotaped this to watch over and over.
She opened the box to find three sets of French silk pajamas. She picked up one of the shorts and held it up and then touched it to her face. Laying it down, she reached for a camisole. The pale pink one with the white lace trim. “These feel so soft,” she said in awe.
They should. They were the best.
“I like the idea of you in my T-shirt. But I also know you like your shorts and tank top because they’re soft. So I got you some other soft things to sleep in. Because when you’re with me, you won’t need my T-shirt to wrap around you.”
She laid it down in the expensive wrapping and let out a happy sigh. “Those are going to spoil me on pajamas for life.”
That was OK. I’d keep her in expensive French silk if she wanted it, for as long as she wanted it.
Again, she kissed me and whispered a thank you against my lips.