They’d fallen when he picked me up earlier I guess right before he’d pulled me over his knee.
I can’t help it. I giggle.
He shoots me a warning look but refuses, flat-out refuses, to put me down. Instead, Cillian bends, muscles bunching as he scoops the keys off the wood deck while still holding me securely. When he straightens, he glowers like the keys personally offended him.
I think about saying something bratty so he’ll continue the spanking from earlier, but when he gets the door open, I forget how to breathe.
The entire cabin is glowing. Pink and white twinkle lights drape from the ceiling beams. What looks like a very real Christmas tree is standing in the corner. It’s so tall and full and covered in soft pink bows, glass ornaments that glitter like frost, and little sparkly trinkets.
The mantel is covered in snowmen and reindeer and fake snow.
It’s a fairy tale. My fairy tale.
“When did you—Cillian, how?” My voice sounds small, stunned. “This is… this is beautiful.”
He’s so pleased with himself I could melt on the spot. He sets me gently on my feet, like he’s afraid I’ll break, and just watches me take everything in.
“I’ve never had a Christmas tree before,” I whisper as I move over to touch it.
He stiffens, jaw flexing. I don’t think he meant for me to see how much that comment hits him, but I do.
“As soon as you said you wanted to come to the cabin for Christmas, I sent some of my freshmen players and their girlfriends out here. Gave them a list. Had them set everything up. Said I’d tell Lockwood they were bothering his girlfriend if everything wasn’t perfect.” Cillian smirks, clearly proud of himself.
“You did all this… for me?” I ask him, genuinely so emotional that he did.
“I wasn’t about to leave you alone on campus,” he mutters. “And it was important to me to surprise you.”
Warmth fills my chest. Bright and overwhelming. I want to cry, but instead I say, “Thank you. For everything. You didn’t have to do any of this just because?—”
Cillian cuts me off, stomping across the room until he’s towering over me. His blue eyes blaze like they’re trying to look right through me.
“I want to do things for you. Do you understand me?” His voice drops lower, more intense. “I want to take care of you. From the moment I laid eyes on you, you’ve been the only thing that’s mattered to me.”
My hand lifts before I can stop it. I press my palm to his chest. He groans the second my skin touches him, eyes fluttering shut for half a moment like he’s overwhelmed by the sensation.
“Maybe sneaking around at school will be fun,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, cheeks burning. “Now that we… you know. Kiss. And stuff.”
He snorts. “Sneaking around? Fuck that. Everyone will know you’re mine.”
My jaw drops. “Cillian! What about your job? I’m a student and?—”
“I don’t need that job,” he says flatly. “I only took it so I could be on campus with you without looking like a creep.”
My mouth falls open again, and I don’t even remember closing it.
“I knew you worked for the government,” I whisper, “but I thought you’d already applied for coaching jobs before I showed up here that night.”
He shakes his head. “I wanted you somewhere safe. Somewhere I could watch you. Protect you. I’ve done nothing but work since I was your age. Saved most of it. Invested the rest. I don’t have to work another day in my life.”
This time, I can’t stop the tears. They spill silently.
“You did all that…” My voice breaks. “You did all of that without even knowing me?”
He leans down and kisses each tear from my cheeks, slow and gentle, his breath warm against my skin.
“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispers. “I felt like I knew you. And I knew you were going to be mine. That was all that mattered.”
I bite my lip and look away before I say something too big, too soon, too much.
