Page 16 of Mistletoe and Magic

As they moved together, lost in the euphoria of their union, Felicity realized that this was what she had been searching for—not just in her writing but in the depths of her soul. With Jace, she felt seen, understood, and accepted. Her fears and doubts dissipated like mist in the warmth of their combined passion, leaving only clarity and the burgeoning glow of something that might just be love.

.

Their bodies moved with a primal drumbeat, the sound of hearts racing and skin slick with desire. Jace's movements grew more fervent, his hands roaming over Felicity's curves with a passion that spoke of a hunger deeper than the flesh. She arched beneath him, her breath coming in short gasps as she clung to the solid reality of his body.

"Jace," Felicity moaned, her voice barely above a whisper but laden with all the intensity of the storm they were navigating together. Her world narrowed to the heat of his skin against hers, the strength of his arms enveloping her, and the relentless pursuit of pleasure that drove him deeper.

With every thrust, Jace seemed to reach parts of her long since abandoned, awakening a fiery need that spiraled towards an explosive crescendo. A powerful surge of emotion swelled within her, a connection that was as much soul-deep as it was physical.

Their rhythm intensified, the crescendo of their desires building toward an inevitable peak. Jace's movements became more purposeful, his grasp firmer, as if he was determined to anchor her to the earth even as they soared towards the heavens. And when the wave broke over her, she felt Jace obtain his own release.

And when she finally shattered in his arms, it was with a shared climax that resonated through every fiber of her being, leaving her entwined in a bond that felt like it might transcend time and reality itself. She trembled in his arms, holding onto him as if nothing else mattered, as if she had truly found a home within his embrace

In the stillness that followed, their breathing slowed and their sweat cooled, yet the profound intimacy lingered, wrapping around them like the softest quilt.

Before the moon had fully set, the early morning light crept into the room, casting a pale glow across the tangled sheets.With quiet care, Jace extricated himself from Felicity's embrace, his movements gentle so as to not disturb her peace. He stood, muscles stretching languidly, and pulled on his jeans with a silent grace that betrayed his reluctance to leave.

Felicity stirred, her eyes blinking open to find his green ones watching her with a warmth that made her chest tighten. "You don't have to go," she said, her voice husky with sleep and the remnants of passion.

Jace smiled softly, a bittersweet edge to the curve of his lips. "I don't want people talking about you taking up with the new kid in town," he murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss on her forehead. "Christmas Valley's eyes are kind, but they see everything."

She watched him pull his flannel shirt over his head, the fabric settling on his broad shoulders. As the door closed behind him, the gentle click echoed in the quiet room, and Felicity lay back against the pillows, her mind a whirlwind of emotion.

Questions tumbled through her mind, each one echoing with the doubts she'd harbored about herself and her writing. Had she crafted characters that could truly capture the complexities of love? Or had she been holding back, afraid to pour her own longing for connection onto the page?

As the first rays of dawn streaked the sky, Felicity realized that Jace—charismatic, adventurous, and unexpectedly tender—had not only unlocked her heart but might just have given her the key to the story she was born if not to write, then maybe to live.

11

JACE

Jace's breath misted in the frosty air as he trudged through the freshly fallen snow, his steps leaving deep imprints on the path to the lodge. The moon hung low, casting a silvery glow over the landscape, turning it into a canvas of untouched white, save for the dark outline of the pines standing sentinel.

As he approached the door, a glint of white against the dark wood caught his eye—an envelope, another corporate vulture's attempt to claim his family’s legacy. Without sparing it more than a glance, Jace swept the unwelcome missive off with the back of his hand and let it fall, forgotten, into the snow. His mind was already weaving through thoughts of Felicity, her image a vivid contrast to the icy world around him.

Inside, the warmth of the lodge enveloped him, chasing away the chill that clung to his bones. He shed his coat, the memory of Felicity’s touch still lingering on his skin like a promise whispered in the dark. Her scent seemed to infuse the very air, a mix of vanilla, cinnamon, and old books that teased his senses, a siren call to the flame they had ignited together.

When he entered his room, he lit the fire and watched it crackle and come to life in the hearth, its dance of shadows aprelude to the passion that had begun to unfurl between them. The softness of her laughter echoed in his mind, a sound that wrapped around his heart and tugged with an intimacy that left him both exhilarated and exposed.

Jace sank into the leather chair beside the fire, the weight of his desire pooling like molten heat within him. Every moment spent with Felicity felt like a layer peeled back, revealing parts of himself he had thought long buried. The way she looked at him, as if seeing right through to his core, stripped him of defenses he had meticulously built.

He closed his eyes, her image blossoming behind his lids—Felicity, with her curls tumbling like golden waterfalls and her eyes, wide and luminous, reflecting the flames. Her soft curves pressed against him, a fit so natural it felt like coming home. And those times when the rest of the world faded, leaving only the two of them, skin to skin, breath mingling, it would be as if they had found their own secret language, one spoken through caresses and whispers.

Jace’s heart thrummed with a rhythm that matched the pulse of the earth beneath the snow. He could feel the pull of her even now, a magnetic force that urged him to cast aside the mundane worries of the lodge and surrender to the extraordinary connection blooming between them.

He rose from the chair, his body taut with anticipation. The night outside beckoned, but within these walls, he had discovered a new world—a world where every sensation was magnified, and every touch was a discovery. In the quiet of the lodge, Jace knew that what was unfolding with Felicity was not just another fleeting romance.

It was a force as raw and as real as the mountains themselves, as deep as the roots of the ancient pines, and as bright as the stars that watched over Christmas Valley. And tonight, as he let the fire die to embers, Jace surrendered to the promise of theheat that would keep him warm throughout the winter's longest nights.

Jace's limbs were heavy with the kind of exhaustion that only comes after a day spent in the thrall of burgeoning passion. Yet sleep proved elusive, his mind still tangled up in the memory of Felicity's touch, her scent lingering on his skin like a promise. He tumbled into bed, the sheets cool and unwelcoming compared to the warmth he'd left behind.

He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep or for how long when the shrill ring of the phone shattered the silence of the lodge, wrenching Jace from the edge of slumber. Groggy and reluctant, he groped for his phone. "Hello?" His voice was thick, laced with the remnants of desire and dreams.

"Jace, darling," came the chirpy voice of Mayor Moorehouse, "I trust I didn't wake you?"

"Of course not," he lied smoothly, sitting up in bed, the chill of the room making him acutely aware of his solitude.

"Perfect! I'm calling to ask a favor. We need strong hands and backs to help dress the town Christmas tree. And I've decided yours are the hands and the back for the job." Her tone brooked no argument, a velvet-covered steel.

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