Page 7 of Tangling with the Christmas
"Tell me to stop," I murmur against her mouth, even as my hands slide beneath her sweater, finding bare skin. "Tell me this isn't what you want."
"Don't you dare stop." She's already tugging at my flannel, fumbling with buttons. "Don't you dare."
We shed clothes in a rush. Her sweater, my shirt, jeans that tangle around ankles before being kicked away. Every new inch of skin revealed is a revelation, and I can't help mapping it with my hands, my mouth, memorizing the taste of her.
She's beautiful in the firelight, all curves and soft skin and dark eyes that watch me intently. When I settle between her thighs, she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, and I have to close my eyes against the sensation of finally,finallybeing exactly where I'm supposed to be.
"Rhett," she breathes, and it's prayer and plea and permission all at once.
I take my time, despite the urgency thrumming through my veins. Kissing down her neck, learning what makes her gasp and arch. Her hands are everywhere—my shoulders, my back,lower—driving me toward the edge of control.
When I finally slide into her, we both freeze, breath caught, the moment stretching into something almost holy. She fits around me like she was made for this, likewewere made for this, and the thought should terrify me but instead it feels like coming home.
"Okay?" I manage, voice strained.
"More than okay." She rocks her hips, and the last thread of my restraint snaps.
We find a rhythm that's both fierce and tender, bodies moving together like we've done this a thousand times before. The firelight flickers across her skin, and I can't stop watching her—the way she bites her lip, the way her eyes flutter closed, the way she says my name.
Her hands grip my shoulders, nails digging in, and I feel the tension building in her, in me, in the very air around us. The storm howls outside, but in here there's only heat and breath and the sound of skin against skin.
"Look at me," I rasp, and when her eyes open—dark and dazed and full of wonder—something in my chest cracks wide open.
Her release hits first, and I feel it everywhere… in the way she tightens around me, in the cry she muffles against my shoulder, in the tremors that run through her entire body. It pulls me over the edge with her, and I bury my face in her neck, breathing her in as the world narrows to justthis. Her warmth, her softness, her acceptance of all my rough edges.
After, when our breathing slows and the sweat cools on our skin, I try to move, to give her space. But she holds me tighter, legs still locked around me.
"Stay," she whispers. "Please."
So, I do.
I roll to my side, pulling her with me, keeping her close. Her head fits perfectly in the hollow of my shoulder. Her hand rests over my heart, and I wonder if she can feel how hard it's beating, how fundamentally she's changed its rhythm.
"Guess we found a way to stay warm," she says, voice thick with sleep and satisfaction.
I press a kiss to her temple. "Yeah. And I'm not letting you go cold again."
She smiles against my skin. "Promise?"
"Promise."
The fire burns low, the storm rages on, but neither of us notices. We're already drifting, wrapped in each other and the quiet certainty that something's shifted.
Something neither of us can take back, even if we wanted to.
Chapter 5
Rosemary
Thestorm'sgonequiet.
Sunlight pours through the small window in soft gold stripes, catching on the dust motes and the curls of smoke from the dying fire. Rhett’s arm is heavy across my waist, his breath slow and even against the back of my neck. His skin is warm, rough with calluses earned from years of working with his hands. I should stay still, soak in this moment, memorize every detail before reality crashes back in.
But my heart's already racing ahead, wondering what comes next. Wondering if there even is anext, or if last night was just a beautiful anomaly. Just two people seeking warmth in a storm.
Last night feels like a fever dream—heat and whispers and the sound of the wind fading into nothing as we burned the rest of the world away. I've never felt so safe and wild at the same time, so completely seen and wanted.
He shifts, murmuring something low and rough with sleep. Then his lips press against my shoulder, the simple gesture sending another tremor through me. "Morning," he rasps.
