Whipping out the shampoo bottle, I poured some into my hand, working it into Cannoli’s coat. His energetic little body nearly vibrated beneath my touch as he soaked in all the attention and love I gave him.
“My hands are soapy. Do you mind pouring the other pot to rinse him off?” I tilted my head toward where the warm water lay waiting.
“Sure.” The way she drew that word out, she didn’t sound confident, but it gave me hope that she hadn’t just thrown her hands up and walked away. Gemma was bonding with our pup, even if she didn’t realize it yet.
Sliding my slippery hands up his body so one had fingers hooked into his collar, keeping him in place, and the other wrapped around his jaw, I nodded. “All right. He’s ready.”
“I can’t believe there’s a dog in my bathtub,” she muttered before tipping the pot over and rinsing away the suds.
With a smile, I released my hold, knowing what was coming next and that Gemma would be completely unprepared.
Her shriek split the air when our little fluffball’s body shook, sending droplets of water flying throughout the room.
“Sasha!” She threw me an accusatory glare.
“What?” I shrugged, my grin growing wider. “That’s how dogs dry off. Everyone knows that.”
She peeked down at her pajamas, which were wet enough to need changing. Throwing both hands on her hips, she huffed out, “Well,Ididn’t.”
Hauling Cannoli out of the tub, I removed any traces of moisture from his coat with a towel before standing. “Did you eat yet?”
“What?” Confusion flickered over her features.
“Did you eat?”
My abrupt change in topic had her sputtering. “Well, no, actually.”
“Perfect. I’ll get started on dinner, and you can get changed.” Pressing a kiss to her cheek, I chirped, “See you downstairs in a bit.”
I could feel her gaze burning into my back as I walked past her and out of the bathroom, Cannoli trailing behind me.
It was shaping up to be a great first Christmas. I could feel it.
After cooking my mom’s recipe for buzhenina, a Russian herb-roasted pork tenderloin, for dinner, I’d spent a few hours playing with Cannoli on the living room floor. Gemma watched on from the couch, but more than once, I caught the corner of her lips twitching at the display we were putting on at her feet.
Now that he lay dozing on his bed, the firelight casting his golden fur in an orangy glow, she gazed fondly at him while her fingers stroked lazily through my hair.
She was comfortable, content, and, dare I say, relaxed.
That meant it was the perfect time to enact Phase 2 of my plan.
Even though it was the absolute last thing I wanted to do, I let out an exaggerated yawn, throwing both hands over my head in a stretch. “Oh boy. It’s getting late. I think I’m gonna head out.”
By the time I got to my feet, Gemma had sat up on the couch, her eyes wide as she stared at me with an expression of alarm. “What? You’re leaving?”
God, hearing the panic in her voice was like a knife to the heart, and I almost abandoned the whole thing to wrap her up in my arms and promise I would never leave her. Ever.
Stay strong, man. You’re doing this for a reason.
Stepping toward the door, I grabbed my coat, punching my arms through the sleeves, praying I wouldn’t make it past the threshold before she stopped me.
“Sasha?” The waver in her voice had me glancing over to find she hadn’t moved from her perch, but the glassy shine of her eyes betrayed she was moments away from crying.
I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it out of my face with a sigh. “I’m trying to respect your wishes.”
Her lower lips trembled. “What wishes?”
“You made it pretty clear that you want our relationship to remain purely physical, which means if I spend the night, it won’t be about sleep. It will be an all-night fuck fest.”
