“Only the kind that makes everything better with time.”
I kissed her again, deep and certain. “I want to marry you. Not today, but soon. I want to give you the Christmas mornings I never had.”
Tears glimmered on her cheeks, but her smile was brighter than the festival lights. “Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”
She grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the booth. “Come on, future husband. Let’s practice being a family business.”
Future husband. Damn, I liked the sound of that.
And for the first time in my life, Christmas didn’t feel like a reminder of what I’d lost. It felt like the beginning of everything I’d been waiting for.
EPILOGUE
JONAS
Iwoke to the smell of egg and sausage casserole—my wife’s Christmas-morning tradition. She always slid it into the slow cooker after we finished setting out gifts for the kids, then we’d wake up and enjoy it while opening presents.
My eyes popped open, and I shifted to my right, taking in the all-too-familiar sight of that long, thick chestnut hair spread over her white pillowcase. This view would never get old.
Her sleep breathing was soft and quick. I hated to wake her, but sunlight was starting to stream through the blinds. And if I’d learned anything over the years, it was that nobody slept in on Christmas morning. Not in this house.
Any second now, our nine-year-old boy and six-year-old girl, William and Winnie, would come knocking on our door, letting us know that Santa had come. Okay, so the nine-year-old wasn’t as enthusiastic as he once was, but he pretended to still believe in Santa for his little sister’s sake.
I turned and propped myself up on my elbow, looking down at my sleeping angel. Her eyelashes fanned out over her delicate cheeks, and I reached over and gently traced one cheekbone with the pad of my thumb.
Her breathing stopped, then started up again, so I continued downward, tracing over her cheek, then her jaw and down to her neck.
We’d built a life here together in Wildwood Valley, starting with that first “I’m falling in love with you,” which had been a commitment to go through life together. We’d married a few months later at the peak of the hiking trail where I spent so many mornings. These days, I had to get up early for those morning hikes to get back and get the kids ready for school.
Paige and her friends were part of the crafts community that had started growing in Wildwood Valley a decade ago, right after the Christmas festival where we’d met. And now tourists came from all over to shop at the cabins clustered in a small community midway up the mountain. Jewelry, candles, and of course, Paige’s bells, which she sold year-round. They were handcrafted in a variety of designs that she sold both online and in a storefront she shared with three other crafters—all women who were married to my buddies on the construction crew.
As my fingers made their way over the curve of Paige’s breast, her eyes finally popped open. Not gradually, either. They went from closed to wide in the space of a heartbeat.
“Merry Christmas,” I said, giving her my best early morning smile.
Blinking, she looked around. “Is it already time?”
I shook my head, moving my thumb around her areola. When I slid it over the beaded tip, her eyes went wide again.
“I figure this will be the only alone time we get all day,” I said. “May as well make the most of it.”
The corners of her mouth tilted upward in a sly smile. “I like the way you think.”
“I like the way you think. And move. And sleep. And take care of our kids…and me.”
I added that last part almost as an afterthought, but it was just as important as the rest of it. I took care of her, of course. Keeping her and the kids safe and happy was my top priority. But just having a place to go every night that was safe and full of love meant everything. More than that, though—being able to provide the childhood for my kids that I never had. I’d never realized how important that was to me.
I slid the covers off her and kissed her, running my hand over the soft slope of her stomach and the sweet, full curves of her breasts. She arched into my touch, a sigh escaping her lips as I deepened the kiss.
My mouth left hers to trail down her neck, to the sensitive hollow of her throat, and farther still. I licked each of her nipples until they were hard peaks, then kissed a slow, deliberate path over the quivering warmth of her stomach.
I slid her legs apart and settled between them, the scent of her, warm and uniquely Paige, driving me wild. I licked her—a slow, languid exploration that made her gasp and fist her hands in my hair. I used my finger to circle that sensitive nub, to stroke her deep inside, and I didn’t stop until her back bowed off the mattress and she came against my mouth with a broken, breathless gasp.
Before she’d even finished trembling, she was pushing at my shoulders, her strength surprising me as she moved me onto my back. She climbed on top of me, straddling my hips, and took me inside her in one smooth, breathtaking motion. I groaned, my hands finding her hips as she began to move.
And God, the sight of her. My wife. Her chestnut hair was a wild mess tumbling over her shoulders. The soft, generous curves of her body, the ones I knew as well as my own, were gilded in the morning light. Her breasts bounced with every rock of her hips, a hypnotic rhythm that had me gripping her tighter.She was all softness and strength, a goddess riding me, her head thrown back in abandon.
Then she opened her eyes, looked right at me, and brought her hand between our bodies. She knew exactly what it did to me, watching her touch herself, knowing she was chasing her own pleasure because it fueled mine.
