It was actually perfect.
For the next month, our lives became insanely busy. Don had called off for a family emergency the day after the Davenport incident. He didn’t explain, but he assured me he was okay and that he’d be back right after Christmas. It was bad timing for him to be gone with Quarry gearing up for his big fight. Plus, we were trying to get moved into the new house before Christmas, but we did the best we could.
Which meant absolutely nothing got done at the apartment, and it was now the day before Christmas Eve and we were frantically trying to pack—just three hours before the movers got there.
Quarry was stomping around like a maniac, pissed because, while I had remembered to book the movers, I had somehow managed to forget the packers. I’d learned this little detail during the confirmation phone call the night before. Quarry had been none too happy, but after I’d spent over an hour talking to the manager, it had appeared we were on our own for packing. Quarry had rushed out and bought as many boxes as he could find, but it wasn’t going to be enough. It was truly amazing how much shit the two of us had been able to cram into that apartment over the years.
“Babe!” Quarry called, suddenly appearing in the kitchen, where I was packing plates. His hands were filled with three boxes of Christmas tree cakes.
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to show me every time you find more. I have admitted to having a slight hoarding problem when it comes to seasonal snacks, but you can’t fault me. They are only available for a few months each year. Just put those with the rest of them.”
His lips quirked humorously. “Really? You want me to just add these to the pile?” He opened the box and dumped them on the floor.
“Q! What the hell!”
“They’re green,” he informed.
“Of course. They’re Christmas tree…” I paused when I got a better look at them. “Oh, God, gross!”
He laughed heartily and stepped around a mountain of boxes to link his arms around my waist. “Exactly how long have you been hoarding snack cakes in my room? Those expired three years ago.”
“I have too many shoes to keep them in my closet.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Those were under my dresser.”
“Which is probably why I forgot them,” I retorted snottily.
He only grinned then kissed me. Plates crashed to the floor, shattering as he lifted me to sit on the counter.
“Leave the plates and go pack your panties. I started to do it but stopped when I found your vibrator.”
My mouth dropped open, causing his eyes to light with humor. “What the hell were you doing packing my panties?”
He ignored my question, pressed my legs open, and wedged his bulky body between them. “Your batteries were dead. Not sure if that means you’ve been hitting it every day or if you haven’t used it in so long they died. Either way, it made my dick so fucking hard thinking about it.” He licked up the side of my neck and threaded his fingers into the back of my hair.
My annoyance was trumped by the sudden heat pooling between my legs. “We have to pack,” I moaned, angling my head to give him more access.
“I just got off the phone with the moving company. They’re sending packers.” He raked his teeth across my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
“I thought they didn’t have any available?” I asked, not giving one single fuck about the answer as I glided my hand under his shirt and up his muscular chest.
“Being a professional boxer has some perks, Rocky.” He took my mouth in a sweltering kiss, brushing his thumbs over my nipples when he pulled away. “Money doesn’t hurt either, Cheapo.” He suddenly stepped away and leaned his hip against the counter. Crossing his arms over his chest, he fought back a smile. “Guy told me you talked them down three hundred bucks.”
“I had a coupon,” I stated proudly.
His lips twitched again. “Right. Well, your coupon didn’t get us packers, so I paid him an extra grand. Now, we have packers. So let’s pack the shit you don’t want strangers touching, like, say…your panties and whatever other sex toys you have hidden in your room, and head back to the house, where I can fuck you without the panties but maybe with the toys and then wait for your million Christmas tree cakes to be delivered this afternoon.” He grinned wolfishly.
His plan was definitely better than mine.
“Sorry I dropped the ball on this moving thing. I’ve been so busy.”
He helped me off the counter, not putting me down until we’d cleared the broken glass. “I know you have, and you need to slow down. What if you stepped down as director at the community center and took a volunteer position?”
“What if you stop suggesting that I quit the job I love?”
He groaned. We’d had that argument at least twelve times over the last month. We both knew that it wasn’t going to end well for him.