My eyes prick with unexpected tears. "It's hard."
"I know. But you're not alone anymore. You are allowed to set limits and use your safeword. If anything I want you to do is too much, you just let me know."
The words break something loose in my chest. I sag forward, forehead resting against his. "What if I mess this up?"
"Then we'll fix it together, which is what we’ll do if I mess up. Neither of us are perfect." His hand comes up, cradles the back of my head. "That's what this is, Holly. It's not about being perfect. It's about being honest and trusting someone else to catch you when you stumble."
"I'm really good at stumbling."
"Then it’s a good thing I played baseball in high school and college. I’m good at catching."
I laugh. When I pull back to look at him, his expression is soft, softer than I've ever seen it. He’s looking at me with real adoration.
"Can I kiss you again?" I whisper.
"You can always ask for what you want,” he pauses and gives me a small wink. “And sometimes, I might even give you permission to have it.”
I lean in slowly, giving him time to meet me halfway. This kiss is different from the one in the chapel. It’s less restrained, more honest. His hand fists in my hair tightly and I gasp, the small bite of pain sending sparks down my spine.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"We should stop," he says, but he doesn't let go.
"Why?"
"Because I want to do this right. Not rushed because we're snowed in and the situation is convenient. You deserve better than that."
"What if convenient is what I need right now? What if I need to feel something real?"
His eyes search mine. "Is that what this is?"
"Yes."
He exhales slowly, then nods. "Then we go slow and the second you want to stop?—"
"Mistletoe."
"Mistletoe," he confirms.
I nod, heart hammering. "Okay."
"Okay." His hands slide down to my hips, grounding. "Tell me what you need."
"I need..." I hesitate, then commit. "I need to know you're not going anywhere. That this isn't just a weekend and then back to normal."
"This was never going to be normal."
"Promise?"
"I promise." He pulls me closer, until there's no space between us. "You're mine now, Holly. For as long as you want to be."
The possessive edge in his voice should scare me. Instead, it feels like coming home.
"Then I'm yours," I whisper.
His smile is slow, satisfied. "Good girl."
Justin’s hands slide from my hips to the hem of my sweater, his fingers warm against my skin. “Stand up,” he murmurs, his voice rough with command.
