Best I Ever Had

Despite the request, I desperately cling to the last inklings of this connection, but I’m overcome and dragged into the ecstasy of my release. The pounding doesn’t stop, tipping me to come again before recovering from the first orgasm. Relentless, his body thrusts into me with no rhyme or reason, just raw need driving him until it gets the best of him as well. “Fuck!” My name leaves his mouth like a swear word calling to me, bringing me back to him. “Story.” And then it becomes a chanted prayer on heavy breaths. “Story . . . Story . . . Story.”

He drops down on top of me, and I lie under him with my body pressed to the cold stone and my eyes closed. My breath can’t regulate, and my heart is still beating strong against my rib cage. Loving the feel of him covering me, I would never ask him to leave, to move off me.

With his chest resting on my back and his cheek pressed to my shoulders, the weight of this man matches my emotions, growing heavier by the minute. I’m so tempted to tell him how I feel, how fast I’ve fallen for him. The words hang on the tip of my tongue. I’m ready to taste the words I’ve never said to any man.

“I’m in love with you, Story.”

But he beats me to the punch.

22

Cooper

I’ve never said those words to anyone.

I’ve never felt this way about anyone else either.

I always believed it would ruin everything. Like my parents. They used to say it occasionally, in a card or when they thought I wasn’t listening, but it’s been years since I’ve heard either one of them say it. Was it life that ruined their relationship, or did they just never find true love in each other?

Thinking about them specifically, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was neither, nor if they married for convenience to carry on the good Haywood name. Even my thoughts are inflicted with sarcasm these days.

We all have our crosses to bear . . .

As for the feelings I blurted earlier to the woman sleeping next to me, I couldn’t hold back. Not this time. Not with Story.

I didn’t want to. I’d say it now if she was awake. Now that I’ve slept, I was foolish to believe that telling her my feelings would have kept me awake, restless, or tossing and turning with regret. In fact, sharing my heart with her had me sleeping like a baby.

Glancing at the time, I find it’s just past ten o’clock.

With the drapes left open from last night, I can see it’s a beautiful day. Soft white reflected off the snow brightens the room as it falls outside the window. If Story ever dreamed of magical holidays, I think I’ve got this one covered.

She’s got my back as well. I can’t think of anything better than Christmas morning with the only person I want to spend it with. Even if she is slightly snoring.

Sneaking out of bed, I grab my phone from the bedside and check for a certain text before getting the fire started in the fireplace. Hopefully, that can clear the slight bite in the air from the room before she wakes up.

I try to be quiet but glance back when she stirs. When she stays asleep, I do a silent fist pump, glad she doesn’t wake before I’m ready. It’s a surprise that I want to keep.

The text message I’ve been waiting for from the concierge hits my screen—the final piece of the surprise puzzle. Tiptoeing across the room like a damn elf, I open the door to find the room service delivery.

Using my foot to prop open the door, I stretch to reach the cart and drag it in, then start setting up the table. I check to make sure all the dishes and the special surprise are here.

“Now I understand why Mommy was kissing Santa under the mistletoe.”

The sound of her sweet voice has me grinning before I even turn around to see her watching me. “Oh, yeah. Why’s that?” I rub my hand over my abs just because I know she likes it.

“Come back to bed, and I’ll show you.” Story pats the bed next to her, then flips the corner of the blanket back to welcome me in.

“You’re about to be put on the naughty list, little girl.”

She props up on her elbows. “I’m not seeing the problem.”

I walk over and sit down beside her. Leaning closer, I say, “Neither am I. Merry Christmas, babe.”

Her arms come around my neck, and she smiles like an angel on Christmas morning . . . Oh wait, she is. Goddamn, she’s beautiful. “Merry Christmas.”

We kiss, not with fire and frenzy but with passion and my whole fucking heart wrapped up in her. When our lips slowly part, she strokes the hair back from my eyes. “I love you, Cooper Haywood.”