Sebastian lifts his head and presses a kiss to my collarbone, murmuring something I don’t catch.
"You okay?" he asks, searching my face. "Did I hurt you?"
"I’m perfect," I whisper. "But I think you broke my table."
He glances down and winces. A crack splits along the edge. "I’ll fix it."
"Of course you will," I murmur, fingers slipping into his hair.
He kisses me again, slow and deep. Tender.
The shift between fierce and gentle makes my chest ache.
"Stay with me tonight," he says, voice low. "Come back to the inn. Wake up on Christmas by my side."
Warmth spreads through me like rising dough. "I’d like that."
He smiles.
And for a moment, it feels like everything has lined up. Like the world stopped just long enough for us to find each other.
"Good," he says. "Because I’m not ready to let you go."
Chapter 9
Sebastian
Icarryheracrossthe snow to the inn, both of us laughing softly like teenagers sneaking into the movies.
She’s soft in my arms, warm and pliant, her curves pressed against me like they were carved to fit.
The snow crunches under my boots. The wind bites at my face. I don’t feel it. All I feel is her. All I hear is her breath at my neck. All I taste is her on my tongue.
I ease open the door to the inn as quietly as I can. The hinges creak anyway, but no one stirs.
The place is packed for Christmas, and I’m glad—for my parents, mostly. Even if one of the guests accidentally set off the fire alarm recently, and the fire department was alerted.
Still. I’m cenrtainly not ready to face Loretta with this grin on my face.
Not when Willa’s cheeks are flushed and her hair’s mussed from my hands. Not when her dress is still rucked up around her thighs and she smells like sex and cinnamon.
I take the back route to my room, kick the door open, and carry her in. I set her down on the bed, slow and careful, like she’s something breakable. But she’s not. She’s fire and sugar and soft, aching need.
She looks up at me, lips swollen, eyes dark. Her sweater dress is rumpled, one strap slipping off her shoulder. She looks like every fantasy I never let myself have.
"You okay?" I ask again, voice lower now.
She smiles, lazy and satisfied. "Yes, Sebastian. Stop asking. Unless you want me to ask you."
I snort. "I’m fine. More than fine."
She sits up and pats the mattress. "Come here."
I toe off my boots, peel off my socks, and climb onto the bed. She reaches for the hem of my flannel and tugs it up. I help her, pulling it over my head and tossing it aside.
Her gaze drags over me. My scars, my muscle, my mess. I’ve never cared much about how I look, but under her eyes, I feel seen. Revered.
She traces one of the marks near my ribs. “You’re beautiful,” she whispers.
