Frostbite

He whispered that he wanted me to sleep because he was aching to fuck me.

“Raelyn,” he says my name with his lips pressed against my breast. “Your body was made just for me.”

I believe that.

He knows how to touch me, kiss me, and fuck me. I feel things when I’m with him that I didn’t think I’d ever feel. It reaches beyond the bliss of an orgasm. When I come with Calder, I feel it in every part of me.

He glides his fingers over my folds. “You’re wet.”

“I was dreaming about you,” I whisper.

He lets out a deep laugh. “Never stop that.”

“Never.”

His arm slides beneath me, moving me so he can take me the way he needs to. It’s the way I want. Rough, hard, passionately.

I cry out when he pushes into me. I moan when the deep-seated guttural sound comes out of him as he thrusts again and again.

“Calder.” His name falls from my lips in a silent vow.

“So good.” He pumps again and then again, pushing me toward another release.

I grab hold of his shoulders, force him closer to me and kiss him.

“I adore you,” he murmurs against my mouth. “So fucking much.”

With his hand wrapped around my neck, he kisses me hard, leaving an imprint on my soul that I know will be there forever.***Two hours later, with his blue robe on, I’m sitting on a bench next to one of the windows in the studio. The snow has stopped, but the blanket of white covering the roofs of the buildings of Manhattan is still there.

I wouldn’t call it a winter wonderland, but it could be the scene from a dream. I stare out at it, determined to save it all to memory so that it will find its way, in some form, into my art.

“This is a fucking vision.”

I look over when I see Calder at the foot of the stairs. He was asleep when I left him. I wanted to finish my Christmas gift for him.

As he approaches, his gaze drifts to the tree. I can see the moment he spots my gift. It’s hanging in the center. It’s the only thing on the tree, other than the string of white lights I draped over the branches earlier.

“That’s for you, Calder.”

“For me?” His hand jumps to the center of his bare chest.

He put on a pair of jeans before he came down to the studio. He looks beautiful with his hair messed from my hands, and his lips swollen from my kisses.

I stand and approach him. “I’ve been working on it whenever I had a chance.”

I watch as he leans in to get a better look at the ornament.

His smile gives way to a laugh. “Is that us?”

I nod. “It’s us.”

He cradles the ornament in his hand. “That’s you with your wool coat. I’m there with my gray scarf. Is that a coffee cup in my hand?”

“Look what’s in my hands.”

He does before turning to face me. “It’s the bag of balls, isn’t it?”

I step closer and reach for the ornament. Carefully removing it from the tree, I look up at him. “Open your hands.”

He does. He stretches his hands out while I place the ornament in them.

With a run of my hand over his cheek, I whisper. “Turn it over.”

His eyes catch mine. “This is exquisite. It’s perfect, Raelyn.”

“The other side has something on it too,” I whisper, trying to control my emotion.

He carefully rolls it in his hands until the other side of the globe comes into view. “Fuck. Wow, Rae. This is fucking everything.”

It is.

It’s my painting laid out on a smaller, breakable canvas. I’m there on the swing, with my hair flying in the wind and the vast field around me. There’s something extra in this version of my self-portrait.

“That’s me,” Calder says with his voice breaking. “I’m pushing you on the swing.”

His eyes meet mine.

We stare at each other, soaking in the pure magic of the moment and this life.

“I’m not alone anymore.” I smile. “You’re there with me.”

“You’ll never be alone again, Raelyn. I’ll always be right beside you.”EpilogueChristmas DayRaelynI carefully unwrap the gift from Rocco and Dexie as they watch. Calder is here too. Dexie invited him not just to unveil the sculpture in the foyer but so that my family could get to know the man I love.

It’s still early, but I know this is love.

Calder knows too.

We haven’t exchanged the words, but we’re close.

“Vision is the perfect name for the sculpture,” Rocco says as I continue prying tape from the gift box my sister handed me.

“It’s fitting.” Calder smiles at me. “Your wife had a vision, and I brought it to life. I was honored that she named it and I’m humbled that you see the beauty in it.”

“I wish I would have seen the beauty in Rae’s paintings.” Rocco crosses his legs as Dexie settles in next to her husband on the couch.