Page 19 of Mistletoe and Magic

The setting sun cast long shadows across the floor, a quiet audience to her resolve. She shed her apron, leaving behind the warrior-baker to find solace in Jace’s passionate embrace, where she could lose herself and find herself renewed.

Nights were their sacred domain, where the heat of the oven was replaced by the warmth of entwined bodies. As the sun dipped below the horizon, signaling the end of another day, anticipation licked at Felicity's insides, hot and heady. She craved the exploration of flavors just as much as she yearned for Jace's touch—each one feeding off the other, a symbiotic desire that drove her forward.

"Shall we try that new chocolate ganache tonight?" Jace suggested, a playful lilt in his voice that promised more than culinary delights.

A spark ignited within her, a flicker of excitement that ran deeper than the mere thought of sweets. "Yes," she breathed out, feeling the tension of the day begin to unravel. "Let's get creative."

As dusk settled, Felicity and Jace dabbled in the alchemy of food, mixing and melding ingredients with an intimacy that transcended the physical. She savored chocolate as it melted on her tongue, moaning as she did so. They experimented with flavors punctuated by kisses, each one a promise of the passion to come when the aprons would fall to the floor.

When the final dish was set aside, Jace reached for her, his hands warm and sure. Without a word, he led her to the refuge of her bedroom, where the world narrowed to the space between breaths, the press of skin on skin.

"Show me the way," Jace whispered, his lips tracing the line of her collarbone as they tumbled onto the bed.

"Every time," Felicity replied, eager to surrender to the rhythm of their nocturnal dance. There, wrapped in the sanctuary of Jace's arms, she found the courage that daylight sometimes stole away. They moved together through the night, every caress a verse, every gasp a chorus, writing a symphony of pleasure that bolstered her spirit.

In the tender, tangled dawn, the specter of competition seemed distant, vanquished by love's tender embrace and the quiet confidence that bloomed anew. Felicity lay entwined with Jace, the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her back a comfort as the first light of dawn crept through the curtains. The passage of days was marked by the softening of butter, the dusting of flour, and the rhythmic beating of eggs. Yet it was in these quiet mornings that Felicity found solace from the frenzy of her baking ambitions.

"Are you worried about the contest?" Jace's voice rumbled against her ear, warm breath sending shivers down her spine despite the warmth of the morning sun.

"Terrified," Felicity confessed, turning within the circle of his arms to face him. Her eyes searched his for reassurance, finding it in the steady gaze that had come to be her anchor in moments of self-doubt.

"Your baking transcends just being something to eat. Your creations are magical," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Magic can be fickle," she replied with a wry smile, thinking of the delicate balance of ingredients and emotion that went into both her baking and her relationship.

"Then we'll be wizards together." His fingers traced patterns on her bare skin, igniting fresh desire even as the world outside beckoned them to begin another day.

Later, as the hours passed, filled with the clatter of pans and the whir of mixers, Felicity's hands shaped dough and piped frosting with an artist's precision, her mind teeming with visions of Christmas Valley decked in holiday splendor and tables groaning under the weight of confectionery masterpieces.

"Will you be there with me?" she asked softly.

"Every step," Jace promised, capturing her lips in a tender kiss that spoke of unwavering support and unspoken vows.

And so, as the day of the contest drew closer, Felicity carried not just her baked goods but also the essence of their late-night labors—the shared laughter and whispered encouragements woven between sighs and kisses. She stepped into the fray, heart pounding with anticipation, knowing whatever the outcome, she would always have the sanctuary of Jace's arms, and the memories of nights spent creating far more than just recipes.

The rolling pin glided over the pastry with a gentle, rhythmic motion, mirroring the rhythm of her own heart. Each press and turn against the floured surface kneaded away her doubts. The contest was no longer just a distant thought; it was an arena where her skills would be tested, her creative prowess challenged.

"Looking good," Jace's voice came from behind her, as warm as the preheating oven. "But I bet it'll taste even better."

Felicity glanced over her shoulder, offering a smile that mixed gratitude with nerves. His presence was a constant reassurance, a reminder that this competition was but one layerof their deepening connection. "I hope so. This tart could be the crown jewel or my downfall."

"Then we make sure it's regal," he said, stepping closer to wrap his arms around her waist, his hands covering hers as they worked and his breath tickling her ear. "Confidence, Felicity. You've got magic in these hands."

Evenings in the bakery had become their clandestine kitchen dance; her culinary creations complemented by his adventurous taste tests. As the sun dipped below the horizon, they'd transform the bakery into a sensual playground of flavors and textures, each new recipe a testament to their burgeoning intimacy.

"Ready to take a break?" Jace murmured, nuzzling her neck, eliciting a shiver that ran down her spine and urged her to abandon the dough for a moment.

"Break or another round of experimentation?" Felicity teased, turning in his embrace to meet his gaze—those eyes that promised mischief and support in equal measure.

"Both," he replied with a grin that told her body to prepare for more than mixing ingredients. They left the tart to rest, unfinished like their own story, brimming with potential.

In the quiet of the bakery after hours, Jace revealed his latest concoction—a savory chestnut cream-filled pasta that bordered on decadent. The sauce was smooth and delicious with a dash of chili for heat. While she experimented with baked and dessert goods, he tried out and invented new savory recipes he planned to serve at the lodge.

They sampled it together, the spice igniting a passion that needed no further kindling. With every spoonful shared between eager lips, the lines between taste and touch blurred until Felicity found herself lifted onto the cool marble countertop, the stainless-steel bowls and wooden spoons becoming silent witnesses to their fervor.

"God, you're incredible," Jace breathed against her skin, his hands exploring the contours of her body as if memorizing a recipe too precious to forget.

"Show me," Felicity whispered back, a challenge laced with yearning. He responded with a hunger that matched her own, clothes discarded with impatient hands, desire spilling out like flour from an overturned bag.

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