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“God…”

“Or Theo.”

I start to laugh as he fills me to the hilt. But then the smile slides away because I can feel it. The coiling in my stomach, the heat radiating out. With every slide of him against me, I’m starting to soar.

I dig my fingers into his skin, needing him harder, faster, everywhere. Our mouths clash, our tongues curl, our bodies meet in perfect rhythm.

“Christ, Georgia,” he whispers, his voice cracking.

“I know.”

His breath shortens, his eyelashes flutter. He fills me completely and utterly. He takes me to the edge, our kisses rapid and desperate.

My body contracts as he surges inside of me, calling out my name as the pleasure suffuses us both. And for a long, heated minute, we lie there, kissing, talking, laughing as we slowly come down.

He’s still smiling when he lifts his mouth away from mine.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper to him.

“It’s the twenty-seventh,” he points out. “Everything is back to normal today.”

I smile, brushing my fingers through his hair. “I like this normal.”

“I do, too.” He rolls over and I rest my head against his shoulder, smiling up at the ceiling. His fingers tighten around mine.

And suddenly I know two things for sure.

He’s as in love with me as I’m in love with him.

And I should always listen to my mom.

EPILOGUE

Six Months Later…

GEORGIA

“Do we actually know all these people?” Theo murmurs into my ear, his arm firmly around my waist as we look at all the guests milling around in our new apartment drinking champagne and beer.

“As much as anybody knows anybody,” I say, because I know he’s teasing. It was his idea to throw this party after all. A joint celebration for the article finally being released, and for the fact we bought our first apartment together.

For the last six months, he’s been dividing his time between here and London. I’ve been flying over to see him, too, when I can. Commercial, of course, because there’s only so many times you can ask your friend to provide a private jet to help your relationship.

It’s been worth every minute of travel. I’m so stupidly in love with this man. He just keeps getting better and better.

“You know everything about me,” he points out. “I’ve been spilling my guts to you for the last six months. The full and unexpurgated version of my life.”

I tip my head toward him. “That was the deal, remember?”

His mouth brushes my temple, warm and amused. “And did it live up to your expectations?”

I glance across the room at the magazine lying open on the coffee table, my name printed in bold beneath the headline. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I have another twenty copies in my closet, just in case something happens to this one.

“Absolutely,” I tell him. “You always do.”

It’s hard to remember a time when this man’s touch didn’t set me on fire. A time when I was afraid of life, not desperate to wake up each morning and face it.

“Georgia,” Laura calls out, beckoning me over. She’s as glamorous as ever, holding court with a circle of adoring men around her.