Chapter 12
“I need you to devour me,” she says hotly, “show me what it's like to be your weakness.”
Breathe. Do not move.
Liberty is in my arms, trembling, and it takes every ounce of restraint not to lift her onto this counter and take us somewhere that changes the game forever.
Instead, I slide my hand into her hair, those soft strands wrapping around my fingers like silk. I tip her head back gently, needing to see her eyes, needing her to understand what I'm about to say.
“I need you to hear me, Liberty.”
Her pupils are blown wide, her lips parted. “I'm listening.”
“I don't play games. I'm not some kid looking for a holiday hookup.”
“I know,” she whispers.
My thumb traces her jawline, and I feel her pulse hammering beneath my touch. “If we do this—if I touch you the way I'm dying to—it means something. Not just a weekend thing because we're snowed in and bored.”
Her breath hitches. “What does it mean?”
“It means you're mine from that moment on. We are together forever if that's what we both want. I don't share. I don't do casual. I'm too old and too fucked up for anything that isn't real.”
“You're sure about this?”
“I'm dead serious, sweetheart. You need to know what you're getting into with me.”
She searches my face as my other hand cups her face, holding her gaze. “I've been alone because I couldn't stand the thought of losing someone again. But you make me want to take that risk.”
Her eyes shine with something that looks like hope. “I want to take the risk too.”
I lean down, pressing my temple to her temple, breathing her in. “You sure about this? Once I start, I'm not stopping. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not next week. You're it for me.”
“I'm sure,” she whispers.
I kiss her then—but not the way my body is screaming at me to. I make sure I'm gentle. Slow when I want to go fast.
My lips brush hers softly, tasting the wine on her, loving the way she melts into me. Her tongue meets mine, tightening every muscle in my body.
Yes. This.
We both moan, but I force the pace, keeping it slow. A taste done with extreme control.
Everything about the kiss is tattooed on my mind and body.
When I pull back, she's flushed and breathless, her fingers clutching my shirt. I’m dizzy and jacked on adrenaline.
“Arrrrgh!” she growls.
I know.
A laugh rumbles from my chest, it’s the only sound I can safely make without sounding like a beast.
“For now,” I say firmly, stepping back before I change my mind. “We're going to decorate that massive naked tree sitting in the great room.”
She stares at me like I've lost my mind. “You just said all that and did that, and now you want to decorate?”
“Yep, together.”
She shakes her head, laughing softly. “Are you serious right now?”
I adjust myself, repositioning my erection with zero shame, and head toward the great room. “Dead serious. Come on, we've got work to do.”
“Spencer, you are the most confusing man I've ever met!”
“Add it to my list of charms,” I call back, grinning when I hear her frustrated groan.
The great room glows with firelight from the fire I made before dinner. The lights cast dancing shadows across the stone walls.
“Music,” I say to the security system. “Christmas playlist.”
The sound system responds immediately, and Nat King Cole's voice fills the space, smooth as aged whiskey.
Liberty appears behind me, arms crossed, still looking adorably indignant. “This is torture.”
“Anticipation,” I correct, kneeling beside the first box of ornaments.
The cardboard releases a puff of stored air when I open it.
“Waiting makes everything better,” I declare as I pull the flaps of another box open.
“I might actually kill you.”
“You can try.” I lift a tangled mess of lights that reminds me of wrangling an octopus when I was diving once. “But first, you're going to help me with these.”
She narrows her eyes at me, then snatches the lights from my hands.
“Fine. But I'm going on record saying this is cruel and unusual punishment.”
“Noted. Would you really have it any other way?”
She hides a small grin. “I'm not sure, although it feels like we've been waiting for months.”
I lean in and kiss her jawline. “A few more hours are like icing on the cake.”
She shoves me away. “Get to work, then.”