“You’re very welcome.” I hold her gaze for another beat, then push to my feet.
“The night’s not over yet.” I glance at the clock over the mantle. “By my count, I still have ten hours until I need to catch my flight. And I have a few more surprises up my sleeve.” I extend my hand toward her.
“And what would that be?” Her skin is soft as she places her hand in mine, allowing me to help her up.
“You’ll find out soon.” I move toward the closet and grab our coats.
“Are we going somewhere?” She steps toward me, and I help her into her coat.
“Just outside.”
“Like, to the Christmas market?”
Chuckling under my breath, I put on my own coat. “Certainly not. While my time here has made me appreciate the season…” I cup her cheek, urging her lips closer. “I have no plans to share you with anyone else tonight. For the next several hours, you’re mine.”
“Yours,” she whimpers as I cover her mouth in a brief kiss.
“Come on.” I steer her toward the back door and open it, allowing her to walk out in front of me. I grab the basket I’d placed on the side table earlier and join her on the patio.
“A fire pit?” She lowers herself onto the wicker couch.
I sit beside her, holding up the basket. “And s’mores. Someone once told me you can’t have a fire pit without s’mores.”
“They sound incredibly intelligent,” she remarks.
“Oh, she is.” I rummage through the ingredients I’d packed, ripping open the bag of marshmallows. “She’s quite smart. And funny. And beautiful.” I lift my gaze to meet hers. “So damn beautiful,” I exhale.
“Callum…” Her lower lip quivers.
“But that’s not why I think she’s amazing,” I continue, sliding a marshmallow onto a long metal rod and handing it to her. She holds it over the flame, looking between me and the fire.
“It’s not?”
“No.” I shake my head, little sparks of red, orange, and blue dancing in the air as I roast my marshmallow. “It’s her heart.” I return my eyes to hers, my throat closing up in an effort to contain whatever emotion is trying to escape. “I’ve never met anyone so caring. So compassionate. So warm. She had every reason to hate me. Still does.” My expression wavers. “But I’m glad she doesn’t.”
I wish I could say more than this. That I could tell her we’ll find a way to make it work.
But I can’t.
“How do you know she doesn’t?” she snips back sarcastically after a beat, cutting through the tension, much to my relief.
I chuckle as I check on my marshmallow, removing it from the fire now that it’s tinted brown.
“I don’t know for certain.”
I set out a couple of plates with graham crackers and chocolate. Parker slides her marshmallow on top of the chocolate, covering it with another graham cracker. I do the same.
“I just hope she doesn’t. Ihavegiven her quite a few orgasms. I think that earns me a few points.”
“Maybe.” She winks and takes a bite out of her s’more.
When she darts out her tongue to catch a stray bit of sticky marshmallow, every muscle in my body tenses, screaming for me to throw her onto her back and explore each inch of her beautiful body.
But I want tonight to be different.
Most of our time together has been spent having sex. Sure, there was the afternoon of the Christmas parade and the occasional run-ins on her property. For the most part, our encounters have entailed frantically ripping each other’s clothes off, desperate to get our fill of each other before Parker needed to get back to her responsibilities.
That’s not the case right now.
