Page 59 of Mistletoe and Mayday
A sob builds in my chest, sharp as broken glass. I try to swallow it down, but it bursts free anyway.
“Stupid snow globe.” My voice cracks. “Stupid wolves. Stupid me for thinking...”
The tears come fast now. I can’t stop them any more than I can stop the words spilling out of my mouth.
My hands shake as I gather the fragments closer, like somehow I can hold them together by sheer force of will. But they slip through my fingers, scattering across the table with tiny clicking sounds that echo like goodbye.
The door bursts open, letting in a gust of cold air and Sebastian, arms full of firewood. He drops the entire load with a crash that makes me jump.
“Bailey? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” His hands hover over me, eyes searching for injuries, and something in his gentle concern breaks me even more.
A sob rips through my chest, harder than the first. I try to speak but can’t force words past the knot in my throat. He pulls me against him, and I curl into his warmth despite knowing it’ll hurt more later.
“I’m fine,” I manage, but the genuine worry on his face only makes everything worse. The tears come faster. “It’s stupid. I’m being stupid.”
His arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest. He smells like pine and snow and everything I can’t keep. “It’s okay,” he murmurs into my hair. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”
“I just...” My voice wavers against his chest. “I’m excited about rescue coming soon. Getting back to normal life, you know?”
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. His arms tighten around me for a moment before loosening. I force myself to pull back, to smile through the tears still sliding down my cheeks.
My heart screams to tell him the truth. To say the words burning in my throat. I like you. I think I’m falling for you. ButI have no right to ask for promises he never made. No right to expect anything beyond what this is.
“Normal life sounds good,” he says, and I nod like my chest isn’t caving in.
“Yeah.” I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. “Though I’ll miss having a personal fireplace butler.”
He laughs, and I memorize the sound, tucking it away with all the other pieces of him I’ll pretend not to keep.
His arms feel like home. Like everything I’ve been running from and everything I’ve been searching for wrapped into one perfect contradiction.
I breathe him in—pine needles, wood smoke, that hint of expensive cologne that somehow survived our wilderness adventure. Or maybe this scent is just him, the essence of Sebastian, without the world’s polish.
His eyes catch mine, and the world stops spinning. His hand comes up, cupping my cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. The touch burns, gentle and devastating.
Time stretches like honey, thick and sweet and infinite. Neither of us moves. Neither of us breathes.
Then something snaps.
We crash together like storm fronts colliding, like waves breaking against cliffs, like every cliché I’ve ever rolled my eyes at. His mouth finds mine, hungry and desperate. He makes a sound deep in his throat that vibrates through my bones, and I swallow it with another kiss.
There’s a desperation in this kiss that wasn’t there before. An edge of goodbye that makes it deeper, more urgent.
I pour everything I can’t say into it. Thank you for keeping me safe, thank you for seeing me, thank you for making me feel like I matter. His hands cradle my face like I’m somethingprecious, something he doesn’t want to lose but knows he must.
The wooden table creaks beneath me as he lifts me onto it. His hands slide down my thighs, grip tightening just enough to make my breath catch. My skin prickles with goosebumps as he tugs at my pants, the cold air hitting my legs.
Sebastian kneels before me, and the sight of him like that—hair mussed from my fingers, cheeks flushed, eyes burning—makes my heart stutter. His fingers trail up my calves, behind my knees, spreading my legs wider.
I grip the edge of the table, trying to ground myself as his touch sets every nerve ending on fire. We both know what this is. A beautiful goodbye. Each touch carries the weight of that knowledge, making every sensation more intense, more precious.
“Sebastian,” I breathe, and for once, I can’t find any other words. My usual rambling fails me as he looks up at me with those intense blue eyes, hands steady on my thighs.
His mouth finds my inner thigh, and I gasp at the sensation. My fingers tangle in his hair as he works his way higher, each kiss deliberate and precise. Even here, even now, he’s methodical. Perfect.
I hook my good leg around his shoulder, pulling him closer. His stubble scrapes against my sensitive skin as he maps me with his tongue. My head falls back, eyes fluttering closed as pleasure builds.
“Sebastian,” I moan.
