Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
I’m perfectly flawed and thankful for the body that flourishes under his hands. No more hiding, only living in the skin I fought to love, love more than anyone, even more than Theo does. I’m my biggest lover.
The smell of cinnamon and pine pulls me from my wayward thoughts, and he’s approaching me with soothing balm in his hand.
“Hands on the counter and bend over, pretty baby.” I use his help to get off the counter carefully. I assume the position he ordered and watch in the mirror as he drops to his haunches. His plush lips are the first thing I feel, touching the sore skin with soft, open-mouthed kisses. I smile, a deep blush erupting over my face. The scents filling the bathroom remind me of Christmas, and it’s a reminder that tomorrow will be our fourth Christmas as a couple.
“Beautiful. Your body is so fucking beautiful, Hanna.” He rubs the balm in gently, small circular motions, and it feels good against the tender flesh.
“Thank you, handsome. You’re beautiful too.”
Standing once more, he looks me in the eyes in the mirror.
“Don’t you tell anyone, but that made my heart go a little soft. Got it?”
I smirk, giggling. "I wouldn’t want to damage your image.”
Theo grips my hip and matches my smile. “Get in the bath. I’m going to make us something to drink.”
“Oh, hot cocoa!”
“No alcohol? I can make cider with something strong,” he tells me, and I shake my head.
“I’d rather stay sober and enjoy a long night of lazy lovemaking, please.” I bounce giddily, my hands clasped as I do.
“Damn, you’re cute. Fine. Cocoa for the both of us.” Taking my hand, he walks me to the large tub and helps me settle in. Once I am, he wraps a towel low around his lean hips and leaves me to the warm water.
There is a window next to the tub, and I look out into the snowy night. I missed this. A snowy Christmas. We don’t tend to get those in our small town of Cherry Hill, South Carolina.
Something about it just makes Christmas… Christmas. I know Brenda—my best friend, business partner, and Theo’s sister—is in awe over this. She’s never had a Christmas out of South Carolina. I feel bad she didn’t get to see the snow in the city lights tonight.
Sure, the scenery in the woods covered in white mounds of snow is stunning, but the city in dropping flurries—that’s a different world. An entirely different and beautiful sight. The only lights I can see from this window are the ones reflecting off the snow in hues of green, red, and a few different colors. It gives me the warm and fuzzy feeling that comes with the holidays. Who knew I would be here now? Safe. In love. And feeling like I always have a home. I wish my grandfather could be here to see me now. Hell, to know me now. How could he have known the version of me before Cherry Hill?
“Where’s that head?”
How I missed Theo coming in and putting our mugs down, I don’t know. “Way too deep in thought.”
Stepping in, he sits opposite me, and I bring the warm mug to my lips and blow on it, watching the steam roll off the rim. "And you’re way too far from me, come here.”
Rolling my eyes, I carefully move, holding the mug above the water and doing my best not to spill it. Once my back hits his front, his hand goes around my neck loosely, and he cups a handful of water and pours it on my shoulder. It slides down my arm and back into the hot bath.
“Want to talk about it?” he murmurs.
“No. I want to talk about you. We talk about me all the time, Theo. Three years in and I still think we are stuck in my era.”
“You know me better than anyone. We don’t need to talk about me.”
Clicking my tongue, I nuzzle in closer. "I know you, but I want to know how you’re feeling.”
“Well-fucked and in the best spot—with you between my legs,” he muses.
“Funny. I’m talking about your parents being here. Are you okay? I know they got divorced years ago, but are you really doing all right?”
“Babe.” Tightening his grip at my neck, he moves me to lean my head back, and he kisses me atop it. “I’m fine.” His attempt to reassure me doesn’t work. Theo never talks about his parents and their divorce. There has to be some pain there. Some anger. Resentment even?
“Your parents are foul to one another. The way they speak to each other. That doesn’t hurt you?” This has him pausing for a long moment.
“It’s the way it is,” he finally answers, and I’m sorry, but that’s not good enough. We have shared our deepest struggles, pains, insecurities, and the most intimate parts, but his parents are a hard limit for him. Whenever I bring them up, it’s like I threw a grenade, and we have to clear the room to avoid disaster. If it doesn’t bother him, then why won’t he openly talk about their moments together? His answer isn’t enough for me.