Page 20 of Mountain Daddy
WELLS
I wake slowly, surfacing from warmth into more warmth.
For a second, I don’t register why my chest feels full. Why my arm is wrapped around something soft. Why everything smells like vanilla, cedar, and the faintest hint of sugar.
Then it hits me.
It’s Celia.
She’s tucked against me, her back pressed to my chest, my arm locked loosely around her waist. Her bottom is pressed intimately against my dick. Her hair tickles my jaw.
And God help me, I feel happy. Dangerously, recklessly happy after spending a couple of nights with her in my bed.
She shifts in her sleep, curling closer like she belongs there. Like she’s always belonged there.
My heart pounds with something I don’t have language for.
I shouldn’t feel this happy. I shouldn’t want her this this much.
I shouldn’t be imagining mornings like this stretching on past Christmas.
But I do. I really, really do.
She stirs and turns her head slightly. “You’re awake,” she whispers.
“Yeah.”
“Still here.”
I let out a breath, tightening my arm around her for one selfish second before forcing myself to loosen it. “You warm enough?”
She nods, smiling faintly. “I am.”
For a moment it’s perfect. Quiet. Soft. Real.
Then the guilt creeps in like a crack in the wall letting in the cold.
I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling beams. “I shouldn’t feel this happy.”
Her sigh is gentle. Understanding. “Wells…”
“This can’t last,” I murmur. “We both know that.”
“We don’t have to know what happens next,” she says softly, propping herself on her elbow to look at me. “We can be here. Today. Together.”
I meet her eyes, and I swear something inside me breaks a little. Because I want that. More than I’ve wanted anything in years.
“I want today,” I admit. “I want you.”
Her hand slides across my chest. Warm. Reassuring. Dangerous.
“Then let’s have today,” she whispers. “Just until Christmas.”
Just until Christmas.
A deal with the devil that tastes like heaven.
I nod, even though every part of me knows this isn’t going to stay simple.
