Page 77 of Snow Storm

Claude studied his face and could tell immediately that was all his beloved wanted. So he nodded and let him up, grabbing his hand at the last second to press a kiss to his knuckles. “Mm, and maybe a kiss at midnight.”

Harley’s face broke out into a gorgeous smile. “I can do that. Let’s go.” He walked off, and Claude followed.

“Are you disappointed there won’t be fireworks?” Claude asked him. They were curled up on the sofa under a heated, weighted blanket, Harley’s legs draped over his thighs, Harley’s fingers toying with his hair.

He had never been more content in his life. Never more comfortable. He thought maybe he’d felt this way with his ex once—long before it all came crashing down—but he wasn’t sure. They had never rested together.

Their lives had been busy and chaotic, and he had no idea how much he could love simply existing in someone’s arms.

“No, not really. Do you normally go see fireworks?” Harley asked. He had a mug of hot chocolate in his free hand, and he sipped it, giving himself a little mustache.

Claude grinned and leaned over, licking it off. “Mm. And no. But I don’t want you to feel like your life can’t have adventure, even with my limits.”

Harley snorted. “Trust me, this is adventure for me. I’ve never been that guy. I’d go hiking with you if you wanted to—smallhikes,” he added with a grimace. “And I think I’d like to do some travel someday. But if you want an adrenaline seeker?—”

“Mais no,” Claude said. He quickly shook his head and squeezed down on Harley’s calf. “No, my love. I just worry I won’t be able to give you what you need.”

“You’rewhat I need,” Harley said like it was that simple. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I don’t want to spend New Year’s Eve at some party surrounded by people I don’t know, anxious and nervous with an upset stomach and biting back the request that you take me home.”

Claude laughed softly and kissed his hand. “I won’t ever do that to you.”

“Good, because this is perfect. This is enough. You, and hot chocolate, and a kiss at midnight.”

“Kisses before, during, after,” Claude told him, making good on his promise. Their lips didn’t part, even as he took Harley’s cocoa away and set it on the side table. When his hands were free, Claude pressed him into the cushions, laying his body carefully over Harley’s. In the background, he could hear people chanting on the TV. The countdown was beginning.

“Ten,” Harley said against his lips.

“Nine. Eight,” Claude said.

“Seven, six, five…”

“Four.”

“Mm-three,” Harley managed.

Claude slipped his tongue between Harley’s teeth and said something like, “Two.”

They both missed one, but it didn’t matter. Their kiss deepened, their hearts pounding, hands seeking, feeling like nothing had ever been more right. Claude closed his eyes and lost himself to the feeling of his lover beneath him, knowing this was a start.

A beginning.

And while there would be an ending, because eventually there had to be, it wouldn’t be a pressing weight on their shoulders. It wouldn’t be a ticking clock. It would just be time. It would all be finished. And he’d have no regrets.

In a few blinks of his eyes, Harley was packing to leave. Time had gone both fast and slow—feeling like it would never end, but knowing that the time for Harley to leave was right around the corner.

He’d handled his PR crisis with a grace that Claude wouldn’t have had. His agent was replaced with a new one, and his publisher had sent him an email assuring him that his contract was safe and that they were sorry he was ever put in that position.

They even issued a public statement to readers about allowing authors to set boundaries regarding their personal lives.

Lyric was officially hired on as Harley’s social media assistant, and he spent the last afternoon he had at Wrought Iron making sure she had all his passwords and showing her the ropes of what it meant to handle his accounts.

Claude was a little jealous that he didn’t have all of Harley’s attention with just a few hours to go before it was time for bed—then sex, and sleep, and then the morning where he left. But he also realized that Harley was planting seeds that would eventually grow to become roots.

And that mattered.

He was useless for the day, so instead of busying himself with work, Claude set himself up on the sofa in his place, trying not to listen to how quiet it would be once again. He curledup with a blanket and the book Harley had given him for Christmas.

And it didn’t take long before he was completely immersed. It hadn’t been a stretch to imagine that Harley was good with words, but Claude hadn’t realized just how poignant and emotional his beloved was.

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