Page 49 of Decking the Halls
“Dependableis the word you’re looking for.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” She’s still catching her breath when the door creaks open.
Nick stands there, framed by the light from inside, his eyes flicking between our flushed faces and the space between us. “Still at it, I see.”
I grin. “Jealous?”
He snorts. “No.” He glances back toward the living room, where Sabrina’s talking with my mom. “You two make unfathomable sense together. Even if it did start with you two fucking in the damn bathroom.”
Edie straightens, smoothing her dress as if nothing had happened. “Language. Your mother’s in there.”
“She’s heard worse,” he says. “Anyway, Sabrina and I are heading to her parents’ place up the coast tonight. Figured I’d say goodbye.”
“Meeting the family?” I raise an eyebrow. “That’s serious.”
“Proposing on New Year’s, actually.” He opens his hand just enough to show the small velvet box hidden there. “Want to do it right this time. Not for appearances. Because I love her.”
Edie barely contains a squeal. “Good for you. She’s wonderful.”
“She is.” He looks at us both, sheepish. “Merry Christmas, you two. Take care of each other.”
When he’s gone, Edie exhales, leaning against me again. “Did we just have a civil conversation with your brother?”
“Apparently so.” I press a kiss to her hair. “End times must be near.”
She laughs, tugging on my jacket. “Take me home.”
“Gladly.”
EDIE
Back in our apartment, Wren makes good on her promise.
She worships me like she always has, with a slow but reverent method that makes me forget about all the fast times. The same way she restores those old engines, I suppose, but I’ve already told her once that if she compares me to a bike part again, I’m leaving her.
“Still so perfect,” she murmurs, kissing the stretch marks on my hips. “Every curve. Every scar. You’re art, Edie.”
“Charmer.”
“Truth-teller.” She settles between my thighs, looking up at me with that wild, devoted focus that gets me excited. “I’m going to make you forget everything except what’s coming next.”
“Next?” I ask, even as she draws a soft moan from me.
“Our home,” she says against my skin. “The new place. I want to break it in with you. Every wall, every floorboard.”
Her words send a shiver through me. She takes her time, building me up with slow, deliberate movements until I’m launching off the bed and screaming her name.
“Wren…”
“That’s it,” she says. “Say it again.”
When I do, she kisses me before rolling me beneath her. The world narrows to the rhythm of our bodies and the steady streams of rain outside.
“My wife,” she says, voice low and rough. “My partner. My whole world.”
“Yours,” I breathe, meeting her movement for movement. “Always yours.”
She presses her forehead to mine, her body trembling with effort. When release comes, it’s like the sweetest balm to the lips after a cold and dry winter’s day.
