“Keep them closed until I tell you to open them.”
“Got it.”
I open the door and reach for his hand, tugging him inside before I shut the door behind him. He drops his duffel bag on the floor. I take a moment to stare at him. God, he’s so beautiful, and I really don’t think he knows it. Aiden is wearing black knit pants with the drawstring untied, a plain white T-shirt, and this chic black zip-up jacket. His long, black lashes are resting against his pale skin as he dutifully keeps his eyes shut.
Beautiful,I think.Aiden is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Then I remember he’s waiting for his surprise. “I’m leading you into the living room now,” I say, refocused on my plan. I walk him toward the tree I’ve put in the corner of the room.
“Don’t lead me into the coffee table,” Aiden teases.
“And risk injuring the Manatees’ star defenseman? Never!”
He chuckles, and I get goose bumps from the sound. I move him wide of the coffee table, then stop in front of the tree. “All right. You can open your eyes,” I say eagerly.
Aiden’s eyes blink open. He studies the tree, and his brows draw down in a V. “A Christmas tree?” he asks.
“Yes! I thought we could decorate it together tonight. It’s the first one I’ve ever had on my own. I wanted to share the experience with you,” I add quietly.
Aiden stares down at me, his eyes searching mine. “It’s our first tree.”
Our.
“Yeah.”
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me thoroughly. “I like this idea,” he whispers against my lips.
I move my hands up to the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. “I’m so glad.”
A playful smirk lifts up one corner of his mouth. “Unless you planned this so I can untangle the lights.”
I giggle at that. “No. They’re brand new out of the box. No untangling needed until next year.”
I saidnext yearand it didn’t scare me. Not with the way he’s holding me and looking at me right now.
“I have a whole year to learn how to untangle lights,” Aiden says, dropping his hands to my waist, his thumbs absently moving across my hip bones.
I’m so happy right now, I could burst. “You do.”
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he says softly. “I like this top.” He lifts one hand and skims his fingertips across my shoulders. I changed into something nice for our date tonight—a shimmery, silver, spaghetti-strapped top that exposes some skin.
“Hm. I rather like what you’re wearing, too,” I say, tugging playfully on his jacket zipper.
Aiden grabs my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my fingertips and sending a shiver through me. “If we don’t stop now, I can’t promise that I’ll have any interest in decorating a tree,” he teases. “But I am already hungry, if you can believe that.”
“Yes. You’re a hockey player. Come on, I have plenty of food for you.”
We head back into the kitchen, and Aiden leans against the countertop as I begin to take glass storage containers out of the fridge. “Do you want Thanksgiving in a sandwich, or do you want to eat a second serving of it?” I ask.
“This will be my first serving. I had pasta when I went out with Archer and Wyatt.”
“You did?”
Aiden nods. “I wanted to have Thanksgiving with you.”
How is this man still able to make my stomach flip upside down with the things he says to me? I would have thought it would have worn off by this point.
With any other man, it probably would. But not with Aiden.
