Page 30 of Her Mountain Christmas
And mine.
“Sweetheart.” I lay my hands on her shoulders, thumbs brushing over the soft wool of her sweater. “Are you okay?”
She exhales, slow and steady, like she’s been holding her breath for years. Then she nods. “I feel… free.”
My chest cracks wide open, unable to contain the multitude of emotions I’m feeling.
I reach down and pick Ella up, needing her close, needing to feel her body against mine, and she lets out a surprised giggle as she winds her arms and legs around me.
God, she’s so small in my arms. I could carry her forever.
I think I will.
I bury my face in her neck, inhaling deeply. She smells warm and sweet, like the shortbread she was baking earlier. My hands tighten around her, my pulse roaring in my ears. She chose me. She chose us. Stood up to them without flinching. And that fire in her eyes when she told them never…it made me hard.
Protecting her felt good. So fucking good.
She pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, a soft smile curving her pretty lips. She looks wonderstruck. I know, because it’s how I feel right now. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.” I crush her closer, my mouth finding hers before she can say another word. She melts into me, her body pliant and soft, and I swear I can taste the future in our kiss.
Sweet, bright, ours.
Eleven
Ella
One year later
The Christmas tree glows merrily from the corner of the room by the fireplace, where a fire crackles softly. It’s snowing outside, and I gaze around the living room—our living room—taking in the festive decorations, the snow, the fire, the tree. This is my second Christmas Eve in Honey Ridge, and I couldn’t be happier.
I can still smell the cookies I baked earlier, the fresh pine of the Christmas tree, the hint of smoke from the fire. Thankfully, my stomach has settled now that I’m out of my first trimester, so scents don’t bother me nearly as much as they did a couple of weeks ago.
I tuck my feet up under me on the couch, pulling Jack’s flannel shirt around me. I’m not wearing a stitch of clothing besides my husband’s shirt.
Husband.
The word still gives me butterflies.
But that’s what Jack is. We got married in August, in a small, intimate ceremony surrounded by our friends and Jack’s family. My family’s out of the picture, but his has welcomed me with open arms, and I’m learning what it feels like to truly belong to one. I got pregnant on our romantic, tropical honeymoon, and I’ll never forget the look on Jack’s face when I told him he was going to be a dad.
So much has changed in a year. I’m not Ella Montgomery, the girl with the trust fund and the toxic family anymore. I’m Ella Carter, wife of the town’s fire chief, mom-to-be, manager of the local art gallery, and proud member of the Honey Ridge community.
It’s amazing to think that at this time last year, I was lost. Drowning. Alone, and scared. And now, I have a husband, a home, friends, a life I never dreamed of. It’s quiet and simple, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. What it lacks in glamour it more than makes up for in love and happiness.
And orgasms. Lots, and lots of orgasms. Especially over the past few weeks as my pregnancy hormones have really kicked into gear.
I hear Jack’s boots on the porch steps. He had to work a twenty-four hour shift starting yesterday morning, and I’ve missed him.
Hence why I’m not wearing any pants.
The front door swings open, and cold air rushes in, making the fire flicker. Jack steps inside, stomping snow off his boots, his arms full of grocery bags. “Hey, babe,” he calls brightly, and I can hear the thunk of him toeing off his boots. I rise from the couch and head towards the entry way. He glances up, and when he sees me, a wolfish smile spreads across his handsome face.
His dark and hungry gaze sweeps over my bare legs, the sliver of skin that shows where the shirt parts.
“Sweetheart.” His voice is rough, low, and my pussy flutters as he slips right into Daddy mode, just like I was hoping he would. “Where are your pants?”
I bite my lip, shifting just enough to let the shirt open up another inch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fully dressed.”
