But first, Nik had a whole list of Christmassy shit for them to do. Photos with Santa, ice skating, tubing, even a damned alpine slide. An early dinner at a beautiful restaurant that overlooked Big Bear Lake, followed by something called Santa’s Hayride to the North Pole, which was as charming as it was weird.
She would have rolled her eyes and demanded he cut to the chase, the chase being his dick, but she was having the time of her life. Not only that, Nik took every opportunity to touch her. He held her hand in the car while stuck in stop-and-go traffic on the freeway. He pressed a light touch to her lower back to shift her away from bumping into a child at Santa’s village. Activities like the alpine slide and tubing required closeness, and he cuddled against her as much as he was able. While ice skating, he only released her to show off some moves, and then she showed off some of her own.
The touches were so light, so innocent.
So why the fuck were they igniting a raging fire of lust inside her?
Their makeout session in the hot tub kept flashing through her mind. Sex with Nik was going to beexcellent.
But deep down, she knew this wasn’t just about playing anymore. Her damned heart was involved.
You hush, she told her heart.This is not heart time. This is coochie time.
But no matter what she told herself, Nik’s Christmas magic seeped into her and made her consider what the future might hold for them.
When they pulled up to the cabin, it was like something out of a dream. All warm, weathered wood, peaked roof, and a covered front porch. Colorful lights sparkled in the bushes and a wreath covered half the front door. A sprinkling of snow added to the already-picturesque image. The sight calmed her, somewhat.
And then, as if he could tell she was nervous, Nik turned to her the moment the door closed behind them. Settling his hands on her shoulders, he looked deep into her eyes and said, “I’ll open some wine.”
She nodded, and then she finally took a good look around. The cabin was fully decorated, with branches of pine and holly, twinkling white lights, and festive red-and-gold ribbons. A small Christmas tree sat in one corner, and two stockings even hung from the fireplace mantle. The whole place smelled like pine—real pine—and cinnamon.
The halls, as they say, weredecked.
Jess followed Nik into the open kitchen space where he drew a bottle of Prosecco from the half-fridge under the counter. An explosion of white and red roses sat in a vase on top, scenting the air. “Do the cabins come pre-decorated this time of year?”
He chuckled. “No, just the outside, although that would be smart.”
“So, who did all this?” she asked, gesturing at the tree and roses.
There was a muffled whoosh and a pop as Nik opened the Prosecco, catching the cork in a dishtowel. “I did.”
She could have sworn the floor just rocked beneath her feet—not an impossibility in California, but in this instance the sensation was caused by his words. “Come again?”
“I came up here yesterday to set up.” He poured the sparkling, fizzing liquid into two champagne flutes. When he handed her one, she took it automatically, too stunned by his sweet admission to do much else. Then he met her gaze, tapped his glass to hers, and murmured, “Cheers.”
The word trembled through her, deep and full of promise. She hurried to take a sip. Promises were easy to make. Keeping them was another story.
But so far, even she had to admit Nik was as good as his word. Somehow, between sipping hot chocolate at the mall while snow bubbles floated around them, baking inappropriate cookies with his family and friends, and entering a Christmas cabin decked out like something in a movie, she had found the sense of comfort that came with such trappings. He’d made her believe.
Not only that, he made her feel special, made her feel like she belonged. For a girl who’d grown up thinking she didn’t fit in, who liked strange things none of her peers liked, who traveled often for competitions and didn’t hold onto friends, it was a giddy feeling that went straight to her head, like the Prosecco.
Nik pressed something on his phone, and music began to play softly in the background. The piano notes swirled around them, soon joined by a subtle string accompaniment.
“Is this ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas?’” Jess asked. This version was romantic, if a tad obvious.
“Mm-hmm.” He took their glasses and set them on the counter. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he slipped his right arm around her, took her right hand with his left, and swept them into a Viennese waltz.
Oh. He’d remembered.
The sweetness of the moment soared through her, merging with the special place this dance style had always held in her heart.
As they traced through the turns, change steps, and reverse turns, following theone-two-threepattern like it was something they’d been born to do together, the music cast a spell around them. It was the most sensual rendition of the song she’d ever heard, moody and ethereal. The soaring vocals wrapped around them as they moved in unison, turning and reversing in a circuit around the spacious kitchen, their stocking feet shuffling lightly on the tile floor. Nik led them into a six-step fleckerl spin, stopped with a smooth contra check, then sent them spinning the other way.
Every time he twirled her out and brought her back in, it was a relief to be in closed hold with him again. He maintained perfect control, perfect speed, and kept his eyes on hers, except to check the space around them.
The beauty of the moment, of the dance, brought tears to her eyes. The waltz had a reputation for being boring or old-fashioned, but to her, there was freedom in the swirling, never-ending movement, a comforting solidity in the hold, and an exuberance in the rise and fall as they rotated around the space.
Dancing with this man was a dream come true. Everything he was came through in the dance—steady, solid,true. Leading, but gently. With an innate connection to her own rhythm and movement, matching her steps and her momentum. The perfect balance. The perfect partner.
