Page 25 of You Make It Feel like Christmas

What? Maisie stood there, shocked still as Nick sang a Luke Combs song she recognized—not because he sang it well; he truly did not —but because she knew and loved it.

Quietly, she set her clothes down, blinking the rest of the tears from her eyes. She bit her lip to keep from giggling at how he tried—and failed—to do the deep, growly thing that Luke Combs could pull off. He might be amazing on the ice but Nick King could not sing.

Without giving herself a chance to overthink or do anything other than feel, she stripped off her clothes, locked both doors, and pulled the shower curtain open.

Nick’s singing stopped abruptly with a less than manly squeak.

“Jesus Christ, Maisie. You trying to give me a heart attack?” Then, like he belatedly realized she was naked in front of him, his mouth dropped open, his eyes moving up and down the way she wanted his hands and mouth to.

With her heart climbing into her throat, it was hard to swallow the nerves as she stepped into the shower with him, closed the curtain.

“Fuck, Maisie.” He pushed his wet hair back, sending water drops everywhere.

Putting both of her hands to his chest, she smiled when she saw she smeared his skin with a rainbow of food coloring. She felt Nick’s head dip, his hands coming up to hers to cover them.

“Were you painting?” Even as he said it, colors swirled over him, along the ridges of his abs, the water swirling away ribbons of blue and red that turned purple.

She tipped her head back to look at him. “I was getting icing ready for the cookies.”

His wet brows, darker in the shower, knitted with concern right before his hands came to her face, cupping her cheeks. “Were you crying?”

There was no point in hiding it. One of Nick’s hands lifted and he stroked her hair back from her face.

The spray wasn’t fully hitting her which made her shiver.

He turned them so the water was on her, hot and wonderful against her skin and even though she stood there in front of him, happily willing to fall into the chemistry that kept building between them, he kept his hands on her face and in her hair, his gaze locked on her.

“Maisie?”

Instead of answering, she pressed her lips to his chest, one pec then the other, tracing her nose between them, smiling against his skin when he inhaled sharply. The hand in her hair tightened.

The one on her face tipped her chin back up. “What’s wrong, Maze?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I don’t want to waste any time.”

He nodded like he understood but she knew he didn’t.

Couldn’t. Going up on tiptoes, she pulled his head down, kissing him like he could take away all of the bad.

It was too much pressure to put on him but since she wasn’t asking for anything out loud, she figured it was okay.

He didn’t have to know that on top of wanting him, she hoped to erase the way she felt about herself in this moment. It could be both.

He kissed her, fully and completely, his body pressing into hers in a way that made it clear he was every bit as into this as she was.

Everything else was fading back, moving to the periphery so all she saw and felt was Nick.

Their water-slicked bodies pressed closer, pulling Maisie under.

His tongue traced along her lips, gentle and sweet before he tilted his head, angled hers and kissed her harder, more thoroughly.

Perfectly. The way only Nick King had ever kissed her; like nothing else existed but the two of them.

Nick’s hands roamed just as Maisie’s did, trailing, exploring, seeking.

The water warmed her back and Nick set the rest of her skin on fire with just his mouth.

But then he lifted his head. His gaze was full of the desire she felt all the way through her body. There was no misreading it. Which was why it confused her so much when he reached behind her, grabbed the body wash, and squirted some in his hands before turning her.

“Let me wash your back,” he whispered.

Every nerve in her body was on high alert, craving Nick’s touch.

And she got it. Everywhere. His vanilla-scented hands washed down her body and back up.

It was the most intimate thing she’d ever experienced but not once did he make it sexual, and somehow, that felt even more intimate.

When he finished, when he’d watched the soap suds rinse from her body, his eyes dark and hooded with lust, he kissed her again. It was sweet and way too quick.

“Do you need to wash your hair?”

She shook her head.

Nick reached outside the curtain, grabbed a towel to pull around his waist, which did very little to hide how turned on he was.

Then he stepped out, came back a second later with two towels. “Wrap your hair, baby.”

A subtle surge of embarrassment made her wonder if she’d crossed a line she shouldn’t have.

She wrapped her hair as he’d said in that sweet, warm voice.

Nick lifted a hand to help her step out but instead of giving her the towel, he dried her body with a gentleness that threatened to undo her.

Like he wanted to take care of her. Which wasn’t what she asked for and for some reason, him giving her what she hadn’t known she wanted but clearly needed, clogged her chest and throat with emotion again.

“That’s not how this was supposed to go,” she said, aiming for a teasing tone and knowing she missed when she met his gaze in the mirror.

He stepped up, pressed close, and kissed her bare shoulder. “I know. You still want me later, you can surprise me by crawling into my bed. But right now, we both know that’s not what you need.”

She blinked back tears, wondering how she could do anything but want him. Nick spun her to face him, caught the first tear with his thumb. “You want to crawl into my bed just to talk and let me hold you? I’m good with that, too.” He grinned, bounced his brows, making her laugh. “Clothing optional.”

She sniffed indelicately, her blood simmering with his words. “Not sure you’ll still feel that way after I beat you at cookie decorating.”

Nick laughed and because he was pressed against her, his hand on her hip, she felt the rumble of it and it pulled her out of her sadness and into him.

“I love your competitive spirit. Maybe we should make a small wager,” he said, running the tip of his nose along her cheekbone to her ear. “Something that can’t be turned against me when I win.”

Her fingers gripped the waistband of his towel and Maisie knew, win or lose, she’d be sleeping beside him tonight.

If anything happened, it would be spectacular—she knew that firsthand.

But even if it didn’t, it would still be one of the best nights of her life because she planned to fall asleep with Nick King holding her in his arms, knowing that’s exactly where they both wanted her to be.