I loop my thumbs inside the baggy sweatpants and wait a fraction of a second, allowing her time to dissuade my progression. When she lifts her hips from the bed, it's all the encouragement I need to continue undressing her.
I crawl over her naked body, enjoying the scent of sweetness embedded in her skin and hair. My heart thunders against my chest, then creeps into my throat in a knotted web of need. Her breasts chafe against me, soothing me with their softness, cushioning me as I fall helplessly in love with her with each passing second.
She glides her fingertips over my back, tickling as she traces and retraces my spine and sides. I brush my fingers through her hair and memorize every fleck of color in her eyes, the fine lines feathering from their corners, and the way she glows beneath me.
Our lips brush together, and she reads me like a favorite book with well-worn pages. We give and take, sip and suckle until our breathing becomes one. I make promises to her with my lips, hands, and every movement of my body, marking her as mine.
I run my hand over her curves and gently nudge her thighs apart as I sink between her legs. She arches her back as I swipe over her wet center with my slippery head. Her fingers dig into my backside, clawing at me, urging me forward.
"Oh, please, Sebastian. Please, fu–" She stops short, biting her lower lip. I still my movement and a wicked grin spreads across her lips. "Fuck the swear jar," she rasps. "Fuck me before I go insane."
A deep, rolling chuckle spills from my lips. Anything for Sophie.
I plunge in deep, filling the need that aches between us, filling her soul with mine as she marks my heart with her own.
A TIME FOR GIVING
CHAPTER 9
***
Sophie
The rest of the week is a blur. I stumble through it on shaky legs and a full heart. I couldn’t have been more wrong about Sebastian as a man and business owner. He’s caring, compassionate, and the best damn lover I’ve ever had.
He’s so good, my swear jar’s getting as much of a workout as I am.
But it's not all play and no work. We finish yards and yards of popcorn and cranberry garlands for our trees. My scrawny spruce still leaves something to be desired, but I couldn't bear parting with it for a bigger, flashier tree. The weak and downtrodden need love the most, so I've faithfully watered it and kept ornaments to a minimum in fear of breaking any limbs.
The bell above the door jingles as I push through, laden with a pile of hand-cut snowflakes and fishing line. I plop the snowflakes on the counter and slip out of my coat. When I flip the lights on, my window illuminates in a rainbow of colors.
I stare, stunned at the magnitude of lights brightening the window and my tiny little tree. The lights weren’t there when I closed the shop last night. It’s eerie knowing someone entered the shop in my absence, yet a flood of nostalgia runs through me.
When I investigate further, there doesn’t seem to be anything missing, nothing else out of place. There isn’t a shred of evidence suggesting who or when someone may have slipped in and set to work on the window.
I lean into the window and peek across the square at Fudgeballs. Sebastian stands at the window with another man crawling around the tree. A giddy, girlish kind of happy zips through me when Sebastian catches my eye and waves. When I lift my knee from the window ledge, my tights catch on a pine needle causing the little tree to sway.