“I can’t start the new year by disappointing the birthday boy.”
“Good.” The word came out like a growl. “Then tell me—what are you doing for New Year’s Day?”
“Spending it with you. Making sure our opening day goes off without a hitch.”
“Our.” My brain snagged on the word like it had teeth.Our.
“If we’re more than a fling, then we’re a team.” I loved how that landed hard.
“In that case…” My mouth nuzzled her neck, and that spot beneath her earlobe that made her moan my name. “What are you doing for Valentine’s? And Christmas next year?”
“Being with you. Happy birthday, Holden.” Her eyes locked on mine like she could reach into my soul and stay forever.
Three little words landed on the tip of my tongue, completely reckless for where we were at, almost shocking me. If I said them now, she could run, but I had to admit where I stood.
“I know it’s fast, and maybe a little insane, but… I’m falling in love with you, Lilah.”
Her fingers slid into my hair, holding me like an anchor. “It is insane,” she whispered. “But I’m falling too.”
That hit harder than any medal I’d ever chased. I didn’t need Michelin stars or fancy recognition anymore. I needed her. She was my gold medal—rare and precious and priceless. A win that I’d spend every day earning and protecting.
Before I could overthink it, I swept her up. She clung to me, kissing my neck as more fireworks boomed outside.
Champagne sat forgotten on the table. We didn’t need it. We were intoxicated with each other in our own private celebration.
20
OUR MOUNTAIN
HOLDEN
“Read it to me again,”I begged Lilah.
“What is it with you getting off on me reading recipes like this?” She sprawled across the bed on her back, wearing her chef’s coat—and absolutely nothing underneath.
“It’s your voice. And the fancy words.” I dipped my tongue back into her, flicking her clit. “Just does it for me. Are you complaining?”
“Mm. No complaints.”
“Then read,” I murmured, “and make my birthday wish come true.”
“Okay,” she breathed. “Snowfall Risotto with Seared Duck Breast & Caramelized Brussels Sprouts.”
“Oh yeah,” I groaned. “Just like that. Keep going.” My fingers joined my mouth, pulsing inside her.
“Mm, Holden. White Alba truffle with champagne-leek cream, black garlic jus, and winter fig.”
“Yes, baby.” I sucked harder, relentless. “More.”
“Holden!” Her legs shook. “A-a velvety white-truffle risotto folded with champagne-infused leeks, crowned with perfectly seared duck breast—oh my God.”
I flattened my tongue, worked her faster. “You’re almost there, Frosty. Finish it, and I’ll give you my cock.”
“O-okay—paired with caramelized winter Brussels sprouts and glossy black-garlic jus for depth. Deeper. Yes—like that.” Her voice broke. “Finished with a whisper of fresh Alba truffle. I’m—I’m?—”
“Come on my face and finish reading,” I commanded.
“Ohh—elegant, decadent, unforgettable—yes, Holden, yes!”
