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“Cole…” she breathed.

“I know,” he murmured. “Me too.”

He laid her back against the pillows like she was something precious.

Cole had spent so long seeing Emily as a rival, as a challenge, as someone who drove him crazy. But right now, all he could think about was how badly he wanted to take care of her. To show her with his hands and mouth and body what he was starting to feel—the terrifying, wonderful shift that had been growing between them.

He undressed her slowly, kissing every inch of skin he revealed. When he finally settled between her thighs, he didn’t rush. He worshipped her—long, slow licks, gentle suction, two fingers curling tenderly inside her while he listened to every hitch in her breath, every soft sound she made. He learned her like he should have the first time: what made her back arch, what made her fingers tighten in his hair, what made her whisper his name like a secret.

She deserves this, he thought. She deserves to feel completely wanted. Not just fucked. Cherished.

Emily came apart under his mouth with a trembling sigh, her thighs shaking around his shoulders. But even as she was still catching her breath, she reached for him, pulling him up her body with surprising strength.

“My turn,” she whispered, eyes soft but determined.

She rolled them so she was on top, and Cole let her. He watched in quiet awe as she kissed down his chest, his stomach, taking her time the same way he had. When she took him into her mouth, it was slow and warm and devastatingly attentive. She explored him like she wanted to memorize every reaction—every twitch of his hips, every quiet groan she pulled from his throat.

Cole threaded his fingers through her hair, not guiding, just touching. God, she’s trying to take care of me too, he realized, and the thought made his chest ache in the best way.

When neither of them could wait any longer, she moved up and straddled him. Their eyes locked as she slowly sank down onto him, taking him deep. They both exhaled shakily at the feeling.

Cole sat up, wrapping his arms around her so they were chest to chest, faces close. They moved together in a slow, rolling rhythm—no rush, no battle for control. Just warmth and closeness and the overwhelming need to make the other feel good.

He kissed her deeply, reverently. “You feel incredible,” he whispered against her lips. “So perfect.”

Emily’s arms tightened around his neck. She pressed her forehead to his, slowing the moment. “I’ve never felt like this with anyone,” she admitted softly, almost shyly.

Those words undid him.

They stayed like that—wrapped around each other, moving in perfect sync. Cole worshipped her breasts with his mouth. Emily kissed his shoulders, his neck, anywhere she could reach. They kept trying to give more—him, thrusting up deeper to hit that spot that made her gasp; her, rolling her hips in that perfect little circle that made his grip tighten on her waist.

When she came again, it was quiet and intense. She buried her face in his neck, trembling, clenching around him in long, pulsing waves. Cole followed right after, holding her tight as pleasure crashed through him, groaning her name like a prayer.

Emily eventually lifted her head and looked at him, eyes shining in the soft Christmas light. She brushed her thumb across his cheek with such tenderness it made his throat tight.

Cole kissed her slowly, then rested his forehead against hers again.

“Alright, next time… I want you in the fire truck.”

Emily lifted her head, eyes sparkling with surprise and heat. “Yeah?”

He smiled, slow and wicked, but still soft around the edges. “Just us in the bay. I want you wearing nothing but my turnout jacket while I take you slow and deep in the back seat.”

Emily bit her lip, a shiver running through her. “That’s a very specific fantasy, Cole.”

“You have no idea,” he said, voice dropping.

“What if I told you I’d been thinking about the same thing?” She kissed his chest, right over his heart, then looked up at him with a mischievous little smile. “That day on the snowmobile ride…”

Cole went very still.

“The snowmobile ride,” he repeated.

“Mm.” Emily traced a finger along his collarbone, keeping her eyes down, the picture of innocence. “When I had my arms around you. And my hands were—” She paused. “Right there. And I may have had one or two thoughts that had nothing to do with the delivery route.”

“One or two?” Cole said.

“Maybe more than two.” She glanced up. “It was a long ride.”