“Geez, Stella… when you do that… I want you,” he said as he opened his eyes and stared into mine. He lowered himself a bit on top of me and whispered as his lips fell against mine, “I want you so much it’s killing me.”
“I’m yours,” I promised, kissing his lips, feeling his wants as he kissed me back. “All yours,” I swore.
As he slid himself into me, I cried out, not knowing it could feel like that. I didn’t even mean the sex. I meant the connection. The power of wanting someone as much as they wanted you. The power of not needing words to even express that want but allowing your bodies to entangle to do the speaking.
Damian worked my body as if he was working on his most prized possession. He took his time with me as I explored him. We moved in sync. We made love in the same rhythm, to the same beat.
Making love.
So, this was what it felt like to be wanted by someone the same way you craved them.
I’m falling for you…I’m falling…I’m falling…
Those words played on a loop in my mind as he slid in and out of me, each thrust unlocking a part of me that had been caged away for so long.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling…
“I know,” he whispered against my ear as I moaned out his name. Filled with so much emotion. “Me too,” he said as if he could read my mind. As if his thoughts matched my own. As if we were one soul, split between two bodies.
I wasn’t certain that I believed in soul mates, but that night, I believed in us.
And that would be enough for me.
25
Stella
* * *
I woke up in Damian’s bed for the remainder of the week. He taught me everything I’d never known in the bedroom. He twisted my body in ways I didn’t even know bodies could twist. He pleased me—multiple times—before he’d ever received any pleasure of his own. I wasn’t even sure what we were doing, but I loved the way we fell together. Were we dating? Were we friends with benefits? A married couple who had no clue what our feelings were doing?
I tried not to overthink it because, for the first time in a long time, I felt joy. A real joy that wasn’t packed with fake smiles and internal anxiety.
I did, however, start wearing the ring he gave me on our wedding day.
When Christmas morning came, I was almost certain I’d be up before Damian due to my Christmas excitement, but to my surprise, when I rolled over, he was no longer in bed. I sat up and stretched out before stepping into my slippers and hurrying out of the bedroom. I smiled as breakfast aromas hit my nose.
It smelled like fresh pastries and happiness.
As I walked into the kitchen, I found Damian standing in front of the oven with an apron covered in flour. His back was toward me, and he hadn’t heard me enter.
“Merry Christmas!” I exclaimed, making him jump a little before he turned to face me.
“You scared me.” He smiled and walked over to me. Wrapping me in his arms, he pulled me close to his chest and placed his lips against my forehead.
Butterflies formed in my stomach.
Ocean kisses.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispered, holding me tighter. It felt like more than a friendly embrace. Or maybe that was what I’d hoped for—more than friends.
“I thought you’d still be sleeping in,” he mentioned, heading back to the oven to check on his creation.
“Oh, no. Sleeping in on Christmas was never a thing. When I was a kid, I used to wake Kevin up at four in the morning to open gifts. It’s always been such a special time for me. But today, I did sleep in a little,” I said.
He arched an eyebrow. “It’s four-thirty in the morning.”
“I know!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe I slept so long. Speaking of, what are you doing up?”
“Well, I was finishing part of your Christmas present.” He frowned. “But now everything else isn’t ready. I was going to make you a whole breakfast spread.”
“That’s fine! It smells delicious, though. What is it?”
He reached into the oven with oven mitts and pulled out a tray of scones.
Homemade blueberry scones.
“I didn’t think that Christmas was falling on a Saturday, and the bakery already stopped making holiday orders weeks ago. So, I couldn’t get you your Saturday scones. I figured I’d try my hand at making them.”
My heart…
“You made me blueberry scones?” I asked, stunned.
“Yeah. I’ve never made them before, so I did a few test runs when you were at work last week, but I think I got it down. They aren’t as good as Jerry’s, but—”
“You practiced making scones for me?” I cut in.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to give you crap as part of your gift.” He grimaced and pinched his nose. “But, honestly, I was going to wrap them in a nice blue box and make it presentable. I should’ve considered you might wake up early and—”