The tree is definitely crooked now, leaning forward at a forty-five degree angle. I don’t know how it’s still standing at all. And I’m not sure at what point Cole and I knocked it so far off-kilter. But at least it didn’t fall on us while we were beneath it.

Though I’m also not sure we’d have noticed if it did.

And I’m not sure if Cole has noticed that there isn’t anything else beneath the tree, either. Just a quilted tree skirt. Not a single gift for him. And not for lack of money or time. I either made or bought something for almost everyone else I know. But for the one person who matters most? Nothing.

Which means I’ve completely failed at Christmas.

I should have just gotten him a mattress. Or a dining set. Or a washer and dryer. But I want him sleeping here, eating here…and making out with me in the laundry room while we wait for our clothes to dry. Just like he has been all this past month.

This would have all been a lot easier if he’d just told me what he wanted for Christmas. What he really wanted. Sending my father to jail doesn’t count. That won’t happen for months…maybe years. And only if there’s anything in the financials to find. I truly think there will be. But, still. That doesn’t help me today.

An otherwise completely wonderful, incredible day. Except that now I might ruin it.

My shame spikes when Cole comes back from his place, carrying the bag of takeout and holding a brightly wrapped box. He’s so wonderful. Everything about him. I don’t deserve this much happiness. But I’ll take it. And do better next year, I swear.

He stops in his tracks, staring at the tree. “How is it still up?”

“A Christmas miracle?”

His grin flashes. “Sounds about right.”

Though I’ve taken off my stockings and boots, I’m still in my Christmas dress, and his eyes hungrily sweep up and down my length as he comes closer. He drops a kiss to my mouth as he sets the takeout on the kitchen counter, then lays the present on the breakfast bar. It looks professionally wrapped in red-and-silver striped paper—as if he went out, took the time to select a gift, and picked out the wrapping, making certain to choose red. Because he knows I love red. And he loves red on me.

And I didn’t get him anything.

“Hey.” Hard fingers grip my chin and bring my gaze up to his. Concern darkens his eyes. “You all right?”

“Yes.” Though my voice is thick.

“Angel.” He says my name like a gruff admonishment for lying, and he sighs. “You must be disappointed. You’ve got a refrigerator full of groceries and I know you meant to be cooking all morning. Not eating takeout for Christmas.”

“Oh. No.” That doesn’t bother me at all. We both like this restaurant and have ordered from it before, which is why I stopped there on the way home. I untie the plastic bag, begin pulling out cartons. “I actually thought it would be kind of nice just to sit on the couch and be lazy and stuff ourselves full of Peking duck. I can make all that other stuff later.”

“Your plans did get pretty fucked this morning, though.”

I giggle. “Yeah. Really well.”

“Shit.” He comes up behind me, his mouth on my neck and his hands on my waist, pulling me back against the hard wedge of his erection behind his zipper. Instantly I’m wet, remembering the unbridled ecstasy of his thick cock pounding inside me, all that hunger and strength unleashed. “So why don’t you finally tell me what you really did, then I’m going to fuck you again. How the hell did you end up at church?”

“Because I went to see Paul at his house, and found out that’s where he was.” Clenching my thighs to ease the ache building between them, I ask breathlessly, “Can you hand me a couple of those bowls?”

“You know you can just microwave the cartons.” But since he knows I won’t, Cole lets me go and reaches for the serving bowls. “So you hunted the mayor down?”

“Right after Mass was over. It wasn’t weird. I know his family really well.”

“Apparently, since you went without panties.” His voice is teasing.

My face heats. “I didn’t think that through. I just intended to come straight back to your place and…wake you up.”

“Next year,” he suggests and kisses me again, then helps me empty the takeout cartons into the bowls. “So what did you say to the mayor?”

“Mostly we had a conversation about all the things I’d like to do when I take over the Bennet Foundation in a few years.”

His eyebrows shoot upwards. “You told him you’re sending your dad to jail?”

“No, I…” I had no idea he didn’t know this. “It’ll all come to me when I’m thirty years old, regardless. When my great-grandfather created the foundation and family trust, he wrote in a provision that the heir can take control of both when they reach thirty. He said the future belongs to the younger generation, so they should be making the decisions. And we all have our own personal money—and I’ll inherit a lot more when I hit thirty—but the bulk of the fortune itself, the mansion…it’s all a big Bennet machine. I just get to decide how to run that machine.” I sigh and glance at Cole. “Why else would my parents have treated me the way they did? My father wants to control me when I take over, and my mother wants me to feel so incompetent that I’ll never claim that position.”

“I just figured they were selfish pieces of shit.”

“Maybe that, too.” Not that it matters much anymore. “But no matter what happens after that financial review, I intend to take over and push them both out—then hire Jason on, since it should all be partially his, too. So I’ll pay him an obscene amount to run everything, because I’d rather keep pursuing the career I am now. But Jason’s interested in it. That’s why he went to law school, and why he’s doing all that work for those nonprofits now.”

“So you’ve been planning this for a while.”

“Yep. And my father has his own money, just like I do, and I can’t kick him out of the mansion because that belongs to the family…but everything else, I’ll take from him. He won’t have the Bennet power behind him. And he won’t have any influence in this city after that. So this morning, I reminded Paul that staying on good terms with me will be far better in the long run than helping my father cause trouble for anyone I’ve taken a romantic interest in.”

Cole boils it down in that blunt way of his. “So you strong-armed the mayor.”

“Nicely. I brought a gift for his family. And I don’t think Paul really likes my father, either, so…” I shrug. “Convincing him to tell my father to go fuck himself if he makes any attempt to ruin you wasn’t difficult.”

“So you saved me again, angel.” His voice is pure gravel as Cole cups my face in his big hands. His dark eyes seem to worship my every feature as he looks down at me. “I don’t fucking deserve you.”

“You do,” I tell him. Lifting my chin stubbornly, I add with fire, “Don’t ever let me hear you say that again.”

My vehemence seems to amuse him. “Deserve or not, I’m sure as fuck never letting you go.” He claims my mouth with a soft, lingering kiss. “Now go open up your present, and I’ll start warming up these bowls. You’ll need a lot of fuel for what I’ll be doing to you later.”

Happiness and guilt war within me as I carefully unwrap the box. Both emotions melt away into sheer pleasure when I move aside delicate tissue paper to reveal a gorgeous cashmere sweater.

“Oh…It’s the same one.”

“Because you said that shrunken one was your favorite.”

“This one is now.” Heart so full, I slide my fingers over the soft fabric. “But how did you find it? I got the other one two years ago. It’s not still available in the stores.”

“I had that mitten, which told me the size and the brand. The rest took a only a bit of tracking down online. I thought you might have done the same, but after snooping around in your closet, I knew you hadn’t bought a new one.”

“I felt like I didn’t deserve to. Not after ruining the first one by being so careless and stupid.” And I’m so glad I didn’t now. Knowing Cole hunted down a replacement because he knew me, knew it was my favorite… I never knew my heart could feel so full.

“That’s just bullshit.” Though bluntly said, his voice is gentle. “Look at what you did, Mia. You got away from your parents and fought for a new life for yourself—and you could have taken it so damn easy. No one would have blamed you if you did. But instead you went out and put that life together with your own two hands. Did you fuck up sometimes? Shrink a sweater? Sure. But that little mitten isn’t a failure. It just shows how strong you are, because even after a setback, you didn’t give up. You kept on doing your laundry every damn week—along with everything else you kept working on. Ah, shit. Don’t cry.”

But I am. Because he sees me. And he sees me in the very best way—and far more generously than I see myself. Hot tears spill down my cheeks and I leap for him.

“I love you.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, I press wet and salty kisses to his mouth, his jaw, everywhere. “I love you.”

“Mia.” Hoarsely he stops me, his dark gaze filled with raw emotion. “Everything I am belongs to you. That’s been true since the day I first looked up at you. I didn’t know who the hell you were, but I do now. And I love you so fucking much. Everything about you.”

My tears fall harder. “I love everything about you.” A sob rips through me and I bury my face in his neck. “But I didn’t get you a gift. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“For what now? Mia.” Frowning, he forces me to look at him again. “What are you sorry for?”

“I tried to find something perfect. And personal. Like all the others. Gifts were never personal before. Just something my mom hired someone to get. But it didn’t matter if it was something I wanted or needed.”

Understanding and amusement soften his face. “That’s why you made stuff like that ice cream scoop.”

Choking on the lump of tears in my throat, I nod. Brokenly I tell him, “Even if it wasn’t perfect, I wanted them to know that they mattered. On a personal level. But I couldn’t find anything perfect for you. Something that was…good enough. And every time I asked what you wanted for Christmas, it was like you didn’t want anything.”

His callused thumbs gently swipe the tears from my cheeks. “Angel,” he says softly. “The only thing I want, you’ve already given. Every day for a month. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. Because you’re here with me. And you’re everything I could ever want, on Christmas or any other day. For the rest of my life.”

A shuddering breath rips through me. “That’s all I want, too.”

“Then next year’s gifts are going to be real easy.” His gaze filling with heat, he lifts me onto the edge of the counter, hitching up my skirt. He groans when his fingers find me hot and wet, and in the next moment his thick cock fills me up with a long, delicious stroke that leaves no room for anything inside me except for Cole—in my body, in my heart, in my soul. His body taut with strain, he roughly commands, “Now tell me what you want for Christmas, Mia.”

Breathlessly, I whisper against his lips, “Just you.”

“And what do you need, Mia?”

The answer will always be the same. “Just you.”

And he sweetly, sweetly gives me both.