Page 54 of This Christmas
“This one.” I take the keys from the box and hold the gold one up. “Is for the office. If you’re still interested, I’d love for you to come work with me.”
“I accept.”
I smile and then hold the silver one up. “This is for the apartment.” My voice is quiet. “I believe in soul mates and know you’re mine. Having you here again has been eye opening. You’re the only one I’d ever want to be with, Zane. Would you like to move in?”
He doesn’t give me a verbal answer, but one with his lips pressing against mine. His tongue occupies my mouth, tangling with mine. Zane’s arm wraps around my waist and he lifts me effortlessly. My hands clasp behind his neck as his hands cup my rear. His long stride has us in my room within seconds.
Zane gently lays me down on my bed and rests on his elbow, hovering over me. “I want to live with you,” he says as he brushes my hair away from my face. “I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to come back to you.”
My hand cups his cheek, my thumb rubbing away his tears. “I forgive you, Zane. I know it wasn’t your fault.”
“I feel like?—”
“It’s done,” I tell him. “We are here now. Nothing else needs to matter.”
He nods, but I see the torment in his eyes. He needs me to trust him. To love him like before. My fingers brush through his hair. “I love you.”
“I love you. I’m?—”
I shake my head. “Don’t. No more apologizing.”
“K,” he says. He starts to move off me, but I hold him there, feeling him through my clothes. My hips flex, getting his attention. His brown eyes light up with wonderment.
“Eve,” he says my name with a hint of lust and warning. All week we’ve acted like teenagers unwilling or scared to take things to the next level. Honestly, I never knew grinding could be so erotic and satisfying.
My fingers brush along his side, snaking up his shirt. His flesh is warm and soft. Zane sits back on his knees and pulls the neck of his long-sleeved henley over his head, baring his chest for me. My mouth waters at the sight of him and I realize my memory has not done me justice. He’s sexier than I allowed myself to give him credit for.
Zane’s strong hands rub down my thighs, massaging, gripping, and grabbing at my jean covered flesh. I undo the button on my pants and slide the zipper down. He watches and the look he gives is one of question as his hands clench the waistband.
I nod and lift my hips, allowing him to pull my jeans away from my body. They go flying over his head, and while comical, I hold back my giggle.
His hands are back on my legs, his thumbs ghosting dangerously close to where I want him. To where I need him to be. Fingers dig into my flesh as my hips rising, urging him on.
“Can I take off my jeans?”
“I think you should.”
He’s off the bed in a flash, tugging hispants off. I sit up and remove my shirt. Zane’s on me before I have a chance to take my bra off.
“I’ll do it,” he tells me as he leaves a blazing path of open-mouthed kisses from my neck to the outline of my bra. “It’ll be another present. One I want to unwrap and savor.”
I let him control the pace at which we do this—be with each other for the first time in years—in how we make love.
EPILOGUE
It’s been six months since my return, and a lot has happened. On Christmas Day, Evangeline and I escaped all the questions from her family and took a walk. Out there, among the growing trees, I presented her with the signed contract to purchase the farm, including the house, the outbuildings, farm equipment and house. At first, she didn’t believe it and thought it was some weird joke—not sure who jokes about something like this—and seemed confused until she read the entire document and it all set it. She now owned her family farm, and it wasn’t going anywhere. Buying this for her was the least I could after what I put her through.
I finish with my last client for the day and head back to the office. Since January, I have been working for Evangeline, focusing on real estate transactions, which are easy work. Ever since she added this service to her website, business picked up. I find that I like this much better. The research is less, the money is good,and once I’m done with the closing, I can move on to the next. There doesn’t need to be any follow-up and I don’t have to spend hours and days putting my clients through depositions. Those will come later when Evangeline has a trial and needs me for second chair. I’m perfectly happy sitting second chair and supporting her.
On my way home, I stop at the store, check on my dad, and pick up a bottle of wine I ordered for the evening.
“How are things today?” I ask my dad when I find him behind the register.
“Slow, but good. A couple of the boys from the high school came in to apply for a job.”
“That’s good,” I tell him. “We have capital for two or three.”
My dad shakes his head. In the time I’ve been back, I have somehow turned things around for the store. I renegotiated some very old contracts, found some new vendors, and started slowly remodeling the interior. We’re still the same store but now we offer a gourmet selection of food, wine, and cheese. These additions have been a positive addition and the people of Deer Ridge love the options. They no longer have to order online or travel out of town to feel fancy.