Page 64 of Christmas at the Ranch
“And more like, we just had to wait for the right moment.” Now he smiles, and I do, too.
“A moment that arrived with me standing in your kitchen in the middle of the night, thinking you were a burglar.”
He laughs. It’s the softest, sweetest sound. “There you were. You know, if I could have made a Christmas wish, it probably would have been something along the lines of, ‘Emory Oakes, standing half naked in my kitchen.’ ” Now he grins. “You looked so cute in that damn T-shirt. What did it say?”
I groan. “ ‘Do you have the balls to try the Fit-mas Tree?’ ” I admit, laughing.
“What the hell does that even mean, Emory?”
“Oh, trust me, you don’t want to know.”
Now I’m reaching for his shirt, and it’s like I’ve turned on a switch. We pull at each other’s clothes, desperately, hungrily. He presses me against the breakfast bar, undressing me further and kissing me all at the same time. I pull off his shirt and his firm, smooth chest is tantalizing as my hands explore down to the low waistband of his jeans.
“Let’s go to my room,” he breathes.
I make a noise of assent and he pulls me up, lifts me off the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to his bedroom. In the doorway, he holds me against his body with one hand, bumps his door shut with his hip, carries me toward the bed and lays me down.
He kisses me all the way down my body as I recline. His lips are on mine, then my collarbone, my breasts, my thighs, my knees, my calves, my toes. I truly think I might pass out from the pleasure of his mouth all over my body. This is everything I ever dreamed of with him—and more, so much more. He kisses my stomach, whispers into my navel how beautiful I am, how perfect. I lose my hands in his hair, and my mind in the sound of his breath, the touch of his fingers, his tongue.
Soon, I can’t take it anymore. “I want you,” I breathe. “I need you.” I pull him up, reach for his belt buckle. “Also, how am I totally naked and you’ve still got your pants on? We need to fix that, right now.” I unbutton his pants and pull them off, pull him on top of me, slide his boxers down and away.
“Wait,” he whispers, rolling away from me, reaching into his nightstand for a condom, which I help him put on as he lies on his side, so dizzy by now with my desire I have no idea how I manage it, but I do.
His lips are on mine again, he’s back on top of me, his chest against mine, our hips aligned. “Please,” I whisper—and with a shuddering sigh that I echo, he slides himself inside me. “Pleasure” is not the right word to describe how this feels. It is dizzying bliss; it iscoming home. “Tate,” I whisper, and he says my name, too, in whispers, in moans. I run my hands down his muscled back, grip his backside so I can greedily pull more of him inside me. How is this possible, that anything could feel this good, this right? I wrap my legs around his thighs as I look into his amber-brown eyes. My desire feels bottomless, but he meets it, meetsme,thrusting as hard and as fast as I need him to, while still kissing me tenderly and making me feel perfectly safe, entirely loved.
“Oh God,” he groans. He kisses my mouth, then lowers his head, runs his tongue over one of my nipples. And it’s all over for me. I couldn’t wait if I wanted to. And I don’t have to; he’s right there with me, our sighs of gratification mingling into one, the orgasm lasting so long my entire body is shaking and spent when it’s over.
After a few minutes, he leans up on one elbow and looks down at me, smiling.
“You look rather pleased with yourself,” I say.
His grin widens. “Well, I mean, I just gotlaid…”
I swat at him, and he rolls over onto his back. We stay like that, side by side, still breathing heavily, looking up at his ceiling.
“Emory?” I turn to him. His expression is now serious. “That was amazing. Everything I ever dreamed. It still doesn’t feel real.” He kisses me softly. I lean up on my elbow to look down at him.
“But it is real,” I say. “You and me.”
He nods. “The best thing I’ve ever known.”
I lower my head so it’s resting on his chest, where Ican feel his heart, still racing from everything we just did together.
“I have to ask you this,” he says. “Will you stay here for Christmas? Will you come with us on the Starlight Ride? I know you have obligations in the city—but I just got you back, and I want you to stay a little while.”
I think about Lani, how I told her I’d be at her place in time for Christmas. But I know she’ll understand. Despite my protests, she’s been rooting for Tate and me this whole time.
“Yes, I’ll stay,” I say, and Tate pulls me closer, holds me tighter, like he never wants to let me go. I feel the same. I could stay here like this forever.
As I continue to listen to his heart, it slows. He relaxes. This new cadence of his heart calms me, too. I close my eyes and breathe along with him, slowly and surely, until we’re both asleep, dreaming of nothing at all because our biggest dream has just cometrue.
Thirty-One
The night of the Starlight Ride is true to its name. No snow, just the clear and starry sky above. The way is lit by the lanterns on the horses and in the hands of the townspeople walking along with us—as well as someone who isn’t from town, but who I can tell feels at home here, too.
My mother walks beside me as I ride a sweet older gelding named Beau. She has a lantern in her hand. She looks up at me from time to time and smiles. This is new; so new, it’s taking some getting used to. She’s stayed a few days in Evergreen, and I’ve found myself happy to have her around. I feel sure I’ve never spent time with my mother like this before, doing what I like to do in a place I love rather than something she or my father have orchestrated. There was a time I felt sure I needed to be free of my family, that my happiest life could never include them. Now, as my mother walks with me on this beautiful, special night, Christmas Eve, I think maybe my life could take a different path. The one I always wanted.
“Emory! Hello!”
