I open my jacket, and she edges closer with a giggle. Arms wrapped around my waist, face pressed to my chest, she stays there. Fits so goddamn perfectly in my arms that it steals my breath.
Her hands skim my back pockets, and then my front.
When her movements get more frantic, I chuckle. “If you’re lookin’ to do somethin’, sugar, all you gotta do is ask,” I say, my cock twitching in response to her touch.
She laughs out, “More body heat, huh?” She backs up a fraction but doesn’t leave the warmth of my coat, patting herself down.
She makes a little squeak and pulls back to look at me, that lush lower lip rolled between her teeth.
“Don’t kill me, Hank. I have them.” She opens her hand to show me the flash of silver.
“Damn it, Bell.” With a shake of my head, I snatch them from her. “Makin’ me sweat, sugar.”
“It’s called keepin’ you on your toes, cowboy,” she teases earnestly.
I open the door and move to step inside.
Rather than hustle in like I expect, Bellamy grabs my arm, tugging me back. “No, wait. It’s snowing.”
I step back outside, turning so she’s practically in my arms.
She leans back against me, resting her head on my chest. “It’s so beautiful out. That perfect Montana night.”
“It is.” I hold her tight, close, ensuring every bit of her is pressed against me. Instead of looking up, I examine her pretty face, committing it, this moment, to memory. Dark lashes against the curve of her dusky cheeks. Her warmth, the way her hips tilt back to mold to mine. The rise and fall of her chest.
We stand in the darkness, holding each other as fat, fluffy flakes fall from the sky. In the distance, the howl of a coyote.
Bellamy shivers, I shiver, our breaths puff white, yet we make no move to go inside.
Wind gusts. A slight stirring sound above us snags my attention.
I glance up.
Mistletoe hangs from the star-shaped hook in the doorway. I haven’t stood here with Bellamy since the day we lost the baby. I don’t move. Neither does she. Grief pinches hard in the gut, but it’s easier to breathe than it used to be.
“What do you think?” I clear my throat, my voice raspy.
She looks up, following my gaze with dark, wanting eyes. “It’s been old times’ sake all night,” she says in a breathy, pleading tone. “Might as well.”
I brush my hands over her hips, gripping them to turn her toward me. There’s a rush of air from both our lungs as we face each other. She steps closer. Slender, light hands slide up my chest as she tilts her head back.
Leaning low, I frame her gorgeous face in my hands and press a kiss to her pouty lips. She tastes like whiskey, chocolate bitters and banana bread simple syrup from that last cocktail.
Uneven breaths pulse between us as we fight for control. Her mouth brushes over mine, her tongue caressing as she explores. I can’t stop myself from deepening the kiss. From demanding more.
Whimpering, she loops her arms around my neck and twists her fingers in my hair. The air rushes from my lungs, beer and whiskey and Bellamy muddling my thoughts.
This woman consumes me. Can’t eat, sleep or breathe without her on my mind.
Yanking her closer, I fasten my mouth to hers. I’m already unzipping her jacket when I kick open the door.
“We have got to decorate that tree,” she mumbles as I walk her backward into the cabin, my lips still on hers.
“Tomorrow, sugar.”
Zelda flies at us, but I gently shoo her away. Tonight, Bellamy’s just mine.
Together, we navigate the darkness, weaving between furniture and boots until we come to a stop in front of the fire.
