His eyes flutter shut.
He sinks back down against me, pressing his face into my neck again, and I feel him smile, and I know it’s a real one, tired and soft and completely, hopelessly mine.
“Look what you’re doing to me,” he murmurs, breathing so warm against my skin. “You make me soft, Ellie girl. Only you.”
And God, he says it like it’s the greatest gift he’s ever been given. He lifts his head, blue eyes dark and intent, and for a moment he just looks at me like he’s trying to memorize my entire existence.
His hand slides up my waist, slow and certain, until his fingers curl gently around the side of my neck. Not squeezing, just holding me in that way he knows I love. His thumb strokes the hollow beneath my jaw, tender and reverent.
“Come here,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. Before I can react, Cillian adjusts his body, taking control with a soft authority that sends warmth rippling through me. I love when he takes control. His other hand slips beneath the covers, down the curve of my hip, and he lifts my leg again, higher this time, allowing his cock to ease deeper inside my pussy. I squeeze around him, and we both moan. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this kind of pleasure. The way he stretches me, fills me, owns me.
Our bodies fall into place like they were carved to fit together. A perfect lock. A perfect match.
Cillian exhales shakily, forehead pressing to mine. “See that?” he whispers, voice trembling with emotion rather than desire. “This… this right here. It’s like you were made for me.” He smooths his hand down my thigh, holding me there, keeping us joined chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart, breath mingling in the warm space between us. His thumb brushes the delicate skin under my ear, and he looks at me like he’s seeing something sacred.
“I’ve never clicked with anyone,” he admits quietly, brow furrowing like the confession physically hurts him. “Not in any way. Not in friendship. Not in life.”
He nudges his nose against mine, and it’s a soft, aching gesture. “But you…” He swallows hard. “Your body fits mine. Your heart fits mine. Your soul fits mine. Perfectly.”
I feel my eyes burn as he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me even closer, as though he’s trying to fuse us together. His voice lowers, barely a breath. “You’re the first person who’s ever felt like home.” And lying there under the blankets, wrapped around him exactly the way he positions me, I know he means it with every piece of him.
His body is still between my legs under the blankets, his weight on me is warm and solid and heavy in the best possible way, holding me to the mattress like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he stops touching me.
Cillian’s hand drifts up to my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth with a tenderness that makes my breath catch. “Look at you…” he murmurs, almost in awe. “Christ, Ellie girl.”
Heat creeps up my throat, but he doesn’t let me look away. “I had this whole Christmas morning planned,” he admits, voice rough and full of something so possessive that it steals the air from my lungs. “Breakfast. Gifts. A walk outside in the blizzard with you bundled up in my coat.” He shakes his head. “But all I want—” His thumb strokes my lower lip. “All I want is to lie right here with you. To have you under me and around me. To feel you wrapped around me in a way no one else ever will.”
My heart stutters because the way he says it, and the way he looks at me, it feels like worship. Like I’m the only thing in the world he cares to treasure.
His gaze roams slowly, drinking me in. “I love your hair,” he whispers, reaching up to thread his fingers through the strands spread on the pillow. “The way it falls around you like silk.”His fingers trace the line of my cheek. “And your face…” His voice softens, almost breaks. “I don’t think you understand how beautiful you are.” His hand slides down, brushing my shoulder, my arm, and finally rests on my bare breast. “And your body…” He swallows hard, lips parting just slightly. “Every contour of you fits against me like you were carved for me. Like you were meant to be in my arms, right here, exactly like this.”
The sincerity in his voice sends a tremor through me. Outside the windows, snow falls in thick, gentle curtains, the world outside muffled and quiet, like nature itself is trying not to interrupt us. And for the first time in my life, everything feels… perfect.
I lift my hands to his face, cradling him as he hovers over me, blue eyes soft and vulnerable and full of something so deep I don’t even know if there’s a word for it. “Cillian…” I whisper. “This… all of this… being here with you, with the snow falling…” My smile trembles. “It’s the best Christmas I could ever imagine. I don’t want anything else either.”
He closes his eyes like the words undo him.
Then he lowers himself into me again, gathering me close under the blankets, his head tucked beneath my chin, arms wrapping all the way around me like he’s never letting go. My eyes start feeling heavy, probably because he did not let me sleep for more than an hour last night. I lost count of how many times he took me, owned me, filled me.
“Merry Christmas, Ellie Girl,” he whispers, and he sounds as sleepy as I do.
“Merry Christmas, Cillian,” is the last thing I remember saying before falling asleep in his arms.
ELLIE
After the first Christmas themed breakfast I’ve ever had…I mean after Cillian insisted on cooking everything himself and nearly burned the bacon because he kept stopping to kiss me in various places, we end up in the living room. It’s my second favorite place in the whole cabin.
The pink-and-white Christmas tree glows softly in the corner right near his recliner. The light pink bows are shimmering, twinkle lights are casting warm reflections across the wood floors. The fake snow he had the freshmen sprinkle across the mantel is still dusting the reindeer figurines, making the whole room look like something out of a dream.
Cillian sits down in his big, worn recliner, the one I secretly think he loves more than any piece of furniture he’s ever owned, and pats his thigh.
“Come here, Ellie girl.” And I go without thinking. He’s never steered me wrong, so sue me I guess, if I want to follow this man’s directions. He settles me across his lap effortlessly, one arm around my waist, the other resting against my thigh like it belongs there. His chest is warm behind me, the blanket he pulled over us even warmer, and I sink into him like I was always meant to.
He kisses the side of my head. “Ready for gifts?” he nods toward the tree, and I’m taken aback at what I see. I was so thrilled with the tree that I hadn’t noticed all the presents that are meticulously wrapped in light pink paper with white and silver snowflakes sprinkled on them.
I turn slightly in his lap so I can see his face. His eyes are soft…it’s that rare, quiet softness he only ever shows me…and it hits me all over again how lucky I am to have this man. “You did not have to do this. What could you possibly have bought me? You give me everything already…”
“And I’ll continue to give you everything until my last breath,” he says, nudging me off his lap gently and gesturing for me to move toward the tree to pick a present.
