by Sarah Makela
* * *
I woke up, lying side by side with Ethan. The blankets were tangled around his long, muscular limbs. Shivering, I wondered why it was so bone-chillingly cold in here, especially with Ethan this close. I climbed out of bed and peeked through the blinds. So far, I hadn’t needed to turn the heater on this year, but the temperatures usually didn’t get this cold until January.
Outside, snow fell in gentle flakes on the lawn, and I watched the snowy scene. This was awesome. I absolutely loved snow. To see it on Christmas Day like this after the intimate night I’d had with Ethan was the icing on this cake, exactly what I’d imagined the perfect day could be.
Warm hands rested on my hips, and I looked over my shoulder to see Ethan with a smile curving his lips. “A nice day to stay in and warm up. If we were at my place, I could light a fire for us and—”
“And my brother would be there too. That would be the epitome of awkward if he were to catch us like this.” I laughed, leaning back into the warmth of his arms.
“Yeah, well, there’s that. Maybe he could go hang out at your parent’s house for a couple days.” He leaned his chin against the top of my head. “I’m not ashamed of us.”
Nolan knowing we were in a relationship set me on edge, but Ethan was right. We loved each other. If my family or Nolan didn’t understand, then that was on them. I didn’t think that would be the case, but I couldn’t be sure.
I leaned back in his arms, but he spun me, pressing me to the wall. He bent his head and kissed me, gently swiping his tongue over my lips. “God, you’re so beautiful. I’ve wanted to tell you that forever now.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, taking in the sculpted beauty of his bare chest. I couldn’t believe he was this ripped. He was God’s gift to women. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”
“Not too shabby, huh? Well, we have a few hours until we’ve got to get ready to see your parents.” He lowered his gaze. “I guess I’ll have to give you a reminder of last night, so you’ll have a better description than ‘not too shabby’, huh?”
“All’s fair in love—”
“We’ll leave the war part out.” He picked me up and spun us toward the bed in a naked tornado.
I laughed, unable to help myself. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” A mischievous grin brightened his blue eyes, and we collapsed back into the bed.
This time I was on top.