Page 114 of Restricted List

“Because you got to dance with me?”

“Almost certainly,” I smile. “But I didn’t get to dance with you quite how I wanted.”

Rory turns around now, draping her arms around my neck. “And how did you want to dance with me?”

I pull her against me and press my forehead against hers. “Just like this. Close enough for everyone to know you’re my girlfriend, not just a friend.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry we have to keep this secret.”

“Don’t be sorry. This is how it has to be for now. And if it means getting to have you, I wouldn’t change a damn thing about it.” I kiss her softly before I start swaying us again. “But I can dance with you now.”

“We don’t have any music playing, Cole,” she laughs.

“I recall you telling me before that I could sing for you anytime.”

So that’s what I do.

I sing the song we danced to at the wedding, but now I get to hold her as close as I want.

I can kiss her as often as I want.

I can spin her around my kitchen as much as I want.

And with Rory, I want, want,want.

I want everything.

Rory is straight out of my dreams, made just for me.

Our relationship may be a secret from most people, but I’ve still never been happier than I am right now with her wrapped in my arms.

Right where she’s meant to be.

We sway together until the song is finished before making our way to the living room, plopping onto my sofa right in front of the decorated Christmas tree.

I watch her in the glow of the soft white lights as she spreads our gifts between us, clearly excited as she does. Once the boxes are set, Rory takes a seat right beside me, and I throw my arm around her shoulders.

We alternate back and forth between gifts.

Rory’s happiness is evident when she opens up a brand new set of art supplies from me.

I smile when I open up a drawing of the Stars’ stadium from her.

She laughs when she opens a telescope from me so she can see the “starlight” anytime she wants.

I howl when I open a pair of sparrow-covered pajamas from her.

“This box is pretty big,” Rory says as she takes off the wrapping paper from my next gift. “I still can’t believe you can wrap so neatly.”

“Blame my mom,” I chuckle. “I can’t wrap without having perfectly straight lines now.”

“Better than anything I can do.”

I smile, but she’s right. She’s cute as hell, but she can’t wrap for shit.

“Finish opening it,” I say, urging her to rip off the damn paper already.

“Fine, fine,” she laughs. Once the paper is finally off, she inspects the box before smiling. “A chai tea maker?”

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