“You’ve made me honest, Krystal,” I say.
She lifts a curious brow, waiting for me to elaborate. Before I can decide to keep it to myself, I confess. “I’ve been participating in Christmas to honor my son, but not for myself. I know we already said we’d help each other make this one mean something different for both of us, but I think I want more than that, too. I want to live life for me, I don’t want to be in a perpetual memory anymore.”
Her eyes grow misty, and I take another risky step forward. The crowd has left us now, and we’re lit only by the distant glimmer of the Christmas lights in the background.
“What does that look like?” She inquires.
“I think it looks like finding a brother’s comfort in a stranger,” I explain. Her brows knit with compassion. Then I add. “I think it looks like melting a snowflake.”
She sucks a tiny gasp of air that I want to chase. Her brown skin warms, and she finally breaks eye contact with me, resting a hand over the fur on her chest and running her fingers over the soft fabric.
“He left me a voicemail this morning,” she says. My head falls to the side.
“My ex,” she admits.
My mouth rounds in a silent ‘Oh’ as I swallow the disappointment rising up my throat. She rests a hand on my elbow, demanding I cling to the fleeting moment. “I know what I want too,” she says. “I want to take Christmas back. I want to erase all the memories I made with him and replace them with new ones. And I want to start with this year.”
“Did you listen to the voicemail?” I ask.
“No,” she smirks, her eyes proud as they find mine through her long lashes. I nibble on my lower lip to hide the spark of excitement that reaction sends through my body.
“Are you going to?” I follow up.
“I blocked him.”
The charged energy from before returns, this time with its temperature several degrees hotter and twice as intense. “What do you want from me, Krys?” My voice is hoarse, desperate. I hate it, but I don’t care. I want her, and the way she looks down at my lips makes me feel like she wants me too.
“I want you to make me forget.”
The sentence barely leaves her when I take her face in my hands and bring her warm mouth to mine. My pulse crackleswhen she opens for me, her tongue seeking mine. A rope of pleasure wraps itself around my spine and tightens. I pull her closer, her soft body molding perfectly against the hard planes of mine. She moans into my mouth as I lick into hers. Her lips feel like putty as I graze my teeth along their bouncy flesh.
She runs her soft hands under the lapels of my coat, inspiring a shiver that rocks my body further into hers. When she pulls away, catching her breath, I rest my forehead against hers. Her sweet scent fills my lungs as I inhale.
“I don’t want to make you forget, Krystal. I want you to remember exactly who you are and exactly what you deserve.”
“You don’t know me, Nick,” she whispers, unable to conceal the uncertainty in her voice.
“I don’t need to know you, Krystal. I just know how I feel when I’m around you. I know I miss you when you’re not around,” I confess.
“Nick,” she whines, as if she can’t feel the effect she’s having on me.
“For the next eight days, I’m yours,” I say.
A gleam of anticipation shines in her wide eyes when she blinks up at me. Her mouth goes slack as she searches for a response.
“Speechless again, Snowflake?”
“Ha!” She slaps a gentle hand over my chest. Can she feel how fast my heart is beating?
“And after that? You’re done with me?” She inquires, the impish edge of her voice stoking the flames of my arousal.
“That’s a bridge we can cross when we get there,” I lie. It will be completely up to her what happens next. Healing is what we need, but I don’t see why we have to do it alone.
She pinches my chin between her thumb and index fingers.
If she told me to fetch the moon right now, I would climb the stars to get it for her.
“Okay,” she says, her eyes bouncing to my lips and back. “Make me remember.”
