I smile, my heart racing.
“Good. Because I’m not either.”
Eb closes the space between us, and I swear the air is charged with electricity and desire.
He leans his forehead against mine.
That’s all it takes for the rest of the world to fall away.
When he kisses me again, it’s slower this time—deep, reverent.
A promise instead of a plea.
But I’m not sure if this means anything more than the moment, and I’m too far gone to want to spoil it.
Our bodies are still damp from the shower, but I don’t mind.
He cups my cheeks, and now warmth starts building in my gut, mingling with heat between us, and the sound of his low growl vibrates through me like thunder.
I feel safe.
I feel wanted.
I feel seen.
When he whispers my name, it isn’t just a sound—it’s a promise.
Like he’s inviting me to be with him, to let the world slide away and just feel.
And I want that.
I want that a lot. With him.
“Stay with me, Honey. Right here with me,” he growls, and I nod, rising on my toes to kiss him.
It’s soft at first, hesitant, but the moment his hands slide around my waist, the kiss deepens, turning molten.
The towels slip from our bodies, forgotten. His skin is warm against mine, his heartbeat a steady, grounding drum beneath my palms.
He walks me backward until I fall onto the bed, a laugh catching in my throat that quickly dissolves into a breathless sigh as he follows, bracing his big, beautiful body over me.
Outside the window, snow is falling—slow, steady flakes blanketing the night in white while the heat between us builds.
Eb’s gaze holds mine, full of reverence and hunger and something deeper.
Something that feels dangerously close to being more than I could ever have hoped for.
Before I can let my fear, and misgivings run away with me, he moves.
He kisses my throat, my collarbone, the curve of my shoulder, each touch stripping away a layer of fear until there’s nothing left but us.
His voice is a low rumble against my ear when he murmurs, “You feel so good, Honey. You feel like home.”
And in that moment, I think maybe he’s telling the truth. Maybe he feels like home to me too.
The world narrows to the sound of our hearts, the taste of his lips, the slide of his hands along my skin.
I’m not sure if I believe in fated mates, but Uncle Uzzi’s app sure knows how to pick a holidate, if I do say so myself.
