“Come on,” he chokes out, lifting me to my feet.
I stumble but quickly regain my footing. I expect him to lead us to the bedroom, but instead, he walks toward the front door.
“Where are you going?” I ask, confused, the heat of every place he was touching me still lighting me up.
“If we don’t leave right now, I’m going to spend the rest of the night making love to you,” he rasps.
“I don’t see the problem with that... at all.” I blink a few times and point to the bedroom.
He laughs, and his shoulders slump forward. He places his hands on his knees and drops his head, shaking it before he looks back up.
“Listen, woman, I’m going to give you comfy, cozy, holiday magic and whatever else your heart desires, but that isnotgoing to happen unless you move that perfect ass out this door, and even then I can’t make any promises.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my shoulders lifting up and down with laughter. “We have everything we need right here.”
I point to the boxes and piles that we spent the last hour sorting through, but he shakes his head.
“You are all I need, Tris. That’s why I know you deserve for our first holiday together to be everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more. There’s nothing wrong with these decorations, but they aren’t ours. We’re going to the store, and we’re going to pick out brand-new ones so that years from now, when we look at them, they’ll be filled with the memories you and I made together.”
Tears spring to my eyes, and I clear the room in a few strides before jumping into his arms and kissing him. It’s rough and messy and tastes like salt as the tears fall, but when I pull away, we’re both smiling.
“I’m guessing you like that idea?” he laughs.
I nod my head, and he carries me out the door, all the way to the truck.
By the time we get back, we have twice as many decorations as we started with, each one hand-picked by the two of us. Levi puts the old boxes back in the shed, and together we decorate both sides of the duplex until it screams Christmas. It’s overdone and absolutely perfect. The lights are colorful, the garland is draped about, there’s reindeer, snowmen, and gingerbread men everywhere we look. Levi disappears while I hang our stockings and create a Santa’s village on the mantle. I’m putting the final touches on when he walks back in, holding an ax in one hand and a tree in the other.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” My eyes bulge, and my jaw drops. “You cut down our Christmas tree yourself?”
“Yeah? My bad, did you want to pick it out yourself?”
“What?” I snap my attention back from my ogling. “No, it’s a tree. I don’t care about that. I’m more interested in how absolutely hot this is,” I clarify for him. “Can you just stand there for a second so I can take a picture of you and that ax?”
His brow rises as he looks at me, confused, and I snap the picture.
“Perfect. I’m going to need to convince Rory’s book club to do a lumberjack theme next month.”
“If it makes you show up, I’m sure Rory will be thrilled,” Levi adds.
After we decorate the Christmas tree, we settle onto the couch together to appreciate all our hard work. I smile, savoring the warmth of this little, perfect moment that I’ve only ever dreamed of. Three stockings hang over the fireplace, reading Tris, Ellie, and Levi, while the fireplace crackles. I convinced Levi that we needed hot cocoa to have the full experience, so now we both sip from holiday-themed mugs as Christmas music plays in the background.
“Is this what you were hoping for?” He kisses my head and breathes me in.
“No,” I say, pausing for dramatic effect.
It works because he jerks his head back, frowning at me until he sees my smile.
“It’s even better.” I kiss his lips softly. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, but when you’re done with that hot cocoa, I bought you something to change into,” he says, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth while his jade-green eyes gleam with bad ideas.
He hands me a reindeer headband with little antlers, and at first glance, I’m confused. “I can put these on right here. What do I have to get changed for?” I place them on my head, proving my point.
“Good girl,” he says, his voice low and husky, sending butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “Now you just need to take everything else off.”
I gulp down my hot cocoa before I accidentally choke on it. “Oh,” I croak, understanding dawning on me as a slow burn ignites across my skin.
“I can do that,” I whisper, placing my now-empty mug on the table.
