Chapter 18
Eighteen
Luke
Warm…
I’m so deliciously warm.
I drift slowly toward the surface of my mind, too comfortable to worry about opening my eyes right away.
There’s no rush, not when the blankets are perfectly heavy and being half-asleep feels so nice.
My bedroom is even more peaceful than usual this morning.
The only sounds are the gentle pop of the dying fire and, more distantly, the howl of wind outside.
Sounds like the storm is still raging.
The storm…
Memories float to the surface in fragments. The pub. The panic in Willow’s voice. My desperate search through the blizzard. Struggling up the steps to the town hall. Holly by the fire, the relief filling my chest as she spun to face me and then…
Then…nothing.
I try to remember how I got from the town hall back to my bedroom in the mansion, but my brain is sluggish. I feel like I’ve been drugged. Or like I hit the gym hard after a month off and not nearly enough protein beforehand.
I’m wiped out. Still, I should get up. Check on my brothers and sister, ask what happened last night. Make sure Holly is okay.
Holly…
More memories flood in.
I’m pretty sure I told her I loved her.
And then I passed out? I think?
And then…
Then, I woke up in bed with another body pressed against mine. A small, soft body that’s every bit as naked as I am…
My eyes snap open to firelight dancing across a dark ceiling and oil paintings of long-dead men in white wigs.
I’m not in my bedroom. I’m still in the town hall’s main lobby, sometime around midnight if the grandfather clock in the corner is to be believed.
And Holly’s here with me, curled against me in little spoon position beneath a pile of quilts I’m guessing she lifted from the Christmas quilt display in the “temporary exhibit” area.
Her long, dark curls spill across the rolled-up quilt we’ve been sharing for a pillow, and I can feel the steady rise and fall of her breath against my ribs.
My heart stutters, then begins to pound.
She saved me. It’s the only explanation for waking up like this. She must have pulled off my wet clothes and bundled us both under the covers to bring me back from the edge of hypothermia.
I shift slightly, pushing up on one arm to catch a glimpse of her face in the firelight. One cheek is smushed adorably against our makeshift pillow, and her lips are slightly parted, letting out a soft mew of breath with every exhale, like a dreaming kitten.
She’s so beautiful it hurts to look at her.
So perfect.
So her, the person I want to wake up with for the rest of my life.
A wave of tenderness fills my chest to overflowing, and once again, I know with a bone-deep certainty that this is love.
Hell, I’ve been awake for a good three minutes, completely naked under the covers with a woman whose body regularly sends me into dizzying lust spirals, and I haven’t had a single impure thought.
I’m working on a few, however, when she stirs, making a soft sound as she snuggles closer.
The curve of her ass brushes against where I’m quickly becoming inappropriately hard for a man in a “naked for reasons other than getting it on” situation. I shift away, but she pushes up against me again, wiggling her hips with a moan that makes my jaw clench.
I’m about to roll out of bed and look for my clothes when she sniffs, sighs, then abruptly tenses as she wakes up to an unexpected hard-on poking her in the spine.
She scoots away, putting some merciful distance between us before glancing back at me.
“Hey,” she says, a blush pinking her cheeks. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Good,” I rasp. Clearing my throat, I add, “Thanks to you. I’m guessing I was in pretty bad shape?”
“You were flirting with hypothermia,” she says matter-of-factly, confirming my suspicions.
“You were shivering so hard, it scared me a little. Especially knowing there was zero chance of getting an ambulance out here in the storm. So, I took stripped you down and left you under my coat by the fire while I made a bed with the play mats from the kids’ corner.
You woke up long enough to crawl in with me, but I’m guessing you don’t remember that part, huh? You were pretty out of it.”
I give a small shake of my head. “No, I don’t. I hope I wasn’t too much trouble.”
“Not even a little bit.” A sleepy smile curves her lips. “Though you did tell me that I was prettier than Lady Godiva on a horse. And that I should always be naked.”
“That’s one of my favorite paintings,” I confess with a huff. “But I apologize for that and for…” I cast a pointed glance toward my midsection. “I tried to move away, but you kept…shifting.”
Her gaze sharpens on mine. “I’m not worried about it. I’m just glad you’re okay.” She pauses, nibbling her bottom lip for a beat before adding, “And I’m glad you figured things out. You know, with the whole pulling your head out of your ass thing…”
I blink, but it only takes a beat for the memory to deliver itself to the front of my mind.
When it does, I exhale a ragged breath, not sure whether to laugh or apologize again.
Or, even better, assure her, “I’m glad, too.
I… I’m so sorry. I saw you with that man, and I just…
I defaulted to the worst part of my nature. ”
Her brows snap together. “What? What are you talking about? What man?”
“The man.” I clear my throat, thoughts still too fuzzy to handle this conversation with the finesse I would like.
But it’s happening, so I’d better rise to the occasion.
“The man at the Reindeer Corner’s Inn. The night of the caroling.
I ended up going with Elliot and Ashton.
I was standing out front when you two…embraced. ”
She blinks for another moment, seeming completely stumped before she breaks into a musical laugh. “Oh my God, Luke. That was my client!”
“Client?”
“Yes! That was Thad. Of Thad and Margot. I shot their engagement photos on Wednesday.” She pauses before adding in a more pointed tone, “After I shot the proposal, which went down about three minutes after that hug you saw. Thad was so nervous, he needed a lot of moral support. That’s all that was.
Me, trying to be a friend to a man I barely knew. ”
My face goes hot. “Jesus.”
“No, Thad,” she teases. “Of Thad and Margot.”
I wince. “I am…mortified. And so deeply sorry.”
“Yeah, well, you should be,” she says gently. “All you had to do was ask me what was up that dude you saw me with and all this angst could have been avoided.”
I nod, my stomach cramping tighter. “You’re right. My behavior was ridiculous. Unforgivable, really, but if you—”
“No, it wasn’t,” she cuts in.
I frown. “It wasn’t?”
“No, I can forgive you.” She shrugs. “I’ve already forgiven you. Just don’t let it happen again.”
“I won’t,” I vow, meaning it with everything in me. “Because I meant what I said when you opened the door. Every word. I was half frozen, but fully in my right mind.”
Pleasure and hope mix in her expression. “Good. I was hoping you were. Because guess what?”
“What?” I murmur, completely in her thrall as she props up on one arm and the quilt slides lower.
“I love you, too.”
Wonder tightens my ribs. “You do?”
She nods, slow and so sexy I’m not sure how much longer I can resist the urge to kiss her. “I do. And I’m very willing to give you the chance to fight for me. But first, I was hoping we might do something more fun than fight.”
“Oh, yeah?” My pulse spikes.
“Yes. Please.” She lifts a hand, trailing her fingertips down my cheek to my neck, my shoulder. “I would like you to kiss me, Luke Ratcliffe. And to keep kissing me for a long time.”
“Whatever you want, beautiful,” I promise, meaning it with everything in me as I wrap my arm around her beneath the covers. “Whatever you want.”
Then, I do my best to be a man of my word.
I kiss her like I’m learning a language I want to speak fluently—deliberate, careful, needing to make sure I’m translating her right.
She answers with a hungry sound that makes my head spin as her tongue strokes against mine.
The world narrows to firelight and the distant howl of the storm and the way her fingers curl into the back of my neck.
She tastes like candy canes and salt on skin.
Like a new beginning.
Like everything I promised myself I would fight like hell for if I was lucky enough to find her alive.
“I want to worship every inch of you,” I murmur. “All night long.”
“I hope you mean that.” Her smile goes wicked against my lips. “Because I’m about to hold you to it.”
She rolls onto her back, dragging me with her, the quilts sliding down to her hips in the firelight.
My breath catches painfully. I’m not prepared for the sight of her.
Her pale breasts, peaked by tight, dusty rose nipples, are works of art.
The sight of her smiling up at me from the mattress is an image I want to burn into my brain and keep with me. Always.
I press a palm beneath her ribs, feeling her breath rise to meet me, silently thanking all potential higher powers for this moment.
This woman.
“Tell me what you like,” I whisper, because I thrive on data and refuse to risk a misstep with something as important as this.
“Tonight?” She tilts her head to one side, holding my gaze as she adds, “Tonight, I think I like slow and steamy. And I really like the way you’re looking at me right now.”
“Like I can’t decide if I want to paint your portrait or devour you whole?”
“Yes.” She winks. “I vote for devour, by the way.”
“Good.” I lengthen myself on top of her, keenly aware of everywhere we touch. “I’m no artist, but I am starving…”
“Prove it,” she whispers.
So, I do.
I kiss down her jaw to the hollow beneath her ear, laving the skin behind it with my tongue before catching the lobe between my teeth. She shivers, arching closer with a moan, and I make a mental note.
My girl likes teeth…
My girl…