Page 76

Scarlett’s eyes widen, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve called her “baby”. And judging by the way her legs tighten around me, she likes it.

“You like when I call you ‘baby’?” I ask, pressing my thumb against her clit. “Baby, Scar, love … Mine,” I finish. She whimpers, and fuck me, she nods again. “Mine,” I repeat, as if I’m trying to convince myself. “You know I’m yours too, right? All yours, Scar.”

I see her breath catch. Her expression softens, and she nods.

It’s just a word. It’s too much, too soon. It doesn’t really mean anything. But it means everything. It makes me feel warm all over in a way I’m not sure I ever have, and I swear, when she comes apart beneath me, pressing the pillow against her face less than a minute later, she somehow tastes even sweeter.

I stand up and take the pillow from her, before gently pulling the hat from her mouth. Scarlett sucks in a deep breath, lifting her arm to wipe the drool from her face, but I stop her. I lean down and run my tongue over her jaw, licking her clean.

“Jesus, Kill.” She sighs—a happy, content sound. “You are something else.”

“It’s your fault for being so fucking perfect that I can’t get enough of you. I’ve got to clean you up before I get you all messy again,” I say with a grin, kissing the tip of her nose before standing up and rolling my neck. “Back in a sec.”

The kids have been known to rummage in grocery bags and pockets, so I hid the box of condoms I picked up inside my hat in the bag. I grab one and tear it open as I walk back through to Scarlett. She’s lying with her eyes closed, her body flushed and glimmering with sweat, looking perfectly relaxed as the Christmas movie plays softly in the background. At first, I think she’s dozing and consider laying a blanket over her and letting her sleep, but she opens her eyes when I step on a creaky floorboard and licks her lips.

“Get over here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, rolling the condom on before I settle between her legs. I stroke myself, and she watches me as I line up the head of my cock with her pussy, pressing ever so slightly inside her. Her fingers are shaking when I reach for them, threading them with mine, and lean over her. The movement shifts me a little further inside her, and she gasps as our lips meet.

“Kill,” she whispers against me.

“Scar,” I answer. I run my tongue across the seam of her lips, and she opens for me.

I push inside her, capturing her cry and swallowing it.

“Just like that, baby. Let me taste it.”

She grips me so fucking perfectly, squeezing my hands and my cock in time with my every movement. She moans once into my mouth, and the dam breaks; every brush of my cock inside her incites a whimper, a groan, a sob, and I drink them all down, greedily. But the closer we teeter to the edge, the more I struggle to stay quiet. I press my forehead to hers, my heavy pants matching her shallow breaths.

“God, Scar,” I gasp, swallowing. “You … me … The best thing. Fuck. The best I’ve ever felt.”

Scarlett stills, and I catch the cry of my name that spills from her just in time as she comes, taking me over the cliff with her. We crash into each other, a mess of breaths and hushed moans, and it’s perfect.

But after, when we finally make it upstairs, and I hold her as she falls asleep … Somehow, that’s even better.

33

Scarlett

Clover Pines is quiet for a midweek evening as we drive to the diner. The snow has offered little reprieve over the past few days, but the night is still for a change. Killian parks up the street from the diner, and we get the kids out of the car and safely on the sidewalk.

“You look really pretty,” Caitlin says, grinning up at me as I hold my hand out for her.

“You do, too, Cait.” I spin her, and her dress twirls around her legs. It was her idea to “get dressed up fancy” for dinner tonight. Usually, it’s a good day if I remember to put on moisturizer before coming here. I so rarely have an occasion to put in any effort for, and the kids never get to wear their fancy clothes. So, dinner on a random Wednesday night can be a special occasion if we make it one.

And Killian in a collared shirt is something I will never ever complain about. He rolled up his sleeves to help James tie his shoes, and the muscles in his forearms peeking out made me drop my phone. Not my finest moment, but I have memories of those forearms on either side of my head, holding me down while he licked my face, called me baby, and made me come on my couch a couple of nights ago, so who could blame me for reacting to them?

My closet is limited when it comes to nice clothes, but I’m wearing a tight black maxi dress with long sleeves, to keep me a little warmer in the freezing night, and the only pair of cowboy boots I own that aren’t worn in. I found them in a thrift store and never wear them because the heels are too high for everyday, but they look good with the dress, and Killian seemed to like the outfit when he tugged me into the kitchen and kissed me breathless against the closed door.

We’re overdressed as hell for the diner, and we look out of place, walking up the street, but the kids are excited, Killian’s hand is on the small of my back, and this is exactly how I want to spend my last night of twenty-six. Every year, I’m so focused on making sure the kids have a good Christmas that my birthday just sneaks up on me. It’s a shitty time of year for a birthday. Landon’s and Piper’s shared birthday is at the start of July—the perfect distance from Christmas. But a Christmas Eve birthday means I’ve never really had a day for just me. People have so much on their plates at this time of year, and I get to spend time with the people I love anyway, so my birthday doesn’t seem worth bringing up. It’s easier that way.

We reach the diner and I frown at the windows. “Huh. That’s weird. We never keep the blinds down at night. I wonder if something’s wrong.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Killian says, nudging me to the door.

I hope so. There’s a Red Bull and a patty melt calling my name. I pull open the door and usher the kids in, before following and looking up.

“SURPRISE!”