My body wakes up before my mind does. I’m in bed, warm and cozy under all of my blankets, and it’s almost as though I can feel Chris next to me. But slowly I start to remember what happened last night, and I feel a wash of relief that he’s not beside me this morning.

I can still feel his fingers inside, pushing deep down and making me crave more. I can still feel the goosebumps plump up over in the insides of my thighs as his breath moved up toward my pussy.

I sit up in my bed and rub my eyes with the heels of my palms. It’s Christmas morning, and all I can think of is him between my legs.

Swinging my feet off the bed, I get up and pad over to the window. The snow has let up, leaving a cloudless sky in its wake with the sun just starting to come up over the hills in the East. I know a sky like this means it’s cold out, but inside my room, I’m warm. It feel so good to know that everything out there is a mess, but inside my home, I’m alright.

I just have to keep telling myself that, and pretend last night never happened.

That was the closest I’d ever gotten. Chris has done things to me before. Amazing, toe-curling, remember-the-feeling-the-next-day things. But I was so close this time to begging him to just take me right then and there.

Now I’m just glad I didn’t. And I hope he and I can pretend nothing happened.

I grab my phone and check the time. It’s a little too early for anyone to be up yet, so I go downstairs, planning to start making breakfast. We have all the things we need for chocolate chip pancakes, and I know once I start cooking, the smell of sizzling, buttery pancakes will tempt my family out of their beds.

Without turning on any lights in the hallway, I make my way quietly toward the stairs. The sun is starting to bleed into the hallway and cast a warm glow over everything. I’m extra careful to avoid the spots on the stairs that I know make a squeaking noise when you step on them. I turn the corner, expecting Chris to still be sleeping on the couch with that silly pink blanket my dad gave him, but when I get to the living room, he’s gone. The blanket is folded up neatly and placed on the back of the couch, and that’s the only trace that Chris was here. I even go into the hallway at the front door to check to see if his boots are still there, and there’s nothing. The blanket is the only evidence that he was ever here.

A numb feeling washes over me as I make my way back into the living room. The tree’s still lit up, and without thinking, I whisper a swear word under my breath and wonder why Chris even bothered to come over last night. Why he bothered to bring the tree inside, when I would have been perfectly capable of doing it myself. Why he sat down with my family and ate dinner and dessert and agreed to stay the night. Why he squeezed my hand and reassured me and helped me have the courage to do everything I did last night, for my family and for me.

Why he pushed me down and kissed me and made me come like I never have before.

Even though it’s Christmas and it’s uncharitable to say bad things about anyone, let alone your ex, even if it’s just under your breath, I let out another little swear and slink into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee and start making breakfast.

My mind runs cold as I start pulling down bowls and measuring cups from the cabinets and retrieving the wet and dry ingredients from the fridge and pantry. I stare blankly at the tree, and I’m more relieved now than I was before that I woke up alone. I made the right decision. Good job, me.

And if I wasn’t able to listen to Christmas music last night, then damn it, I’m going to listen to it now. Instead of putting it on the stereo and risk jolting everyone awake, I grab my earbuds from the pocket of my coat in the hallway and fire up my personal radio app on my phone and get to work on the pancakes.

I quickly start to take out my anger on the poor eggs and milk. I know the recipe by heart, and I crack two eggs and measure out the correct amount of milk into one of my mom’s old glazed ceramic bowls from the 70s, beating everything into a frothy mixture to the tempo of an instrumental version of Carol of the Bells for way longer than necessary.

That fucking guy. I was so right to do what I did. Now I can go back to California with the confidence I lacked when I left here a year ago.

I catch my brother come into the living room from the corner of my eye. I don’t feel like talking to him, and I put my head down and turn around to grab some half and half from the fridge for the coffee that’s finally ready. He’s saying something behind me, but I can’t make it out over the music.

“Jess!” My earbuds pop out of my ears and I swing around to see Chris standing in front of me. He’s traded in his rugged red button-down and dark jeans for a white button-down and a skinny black tie and slacks, but all I can focus on is his gorgeous smile and the light in his eyes.

I’m taken aback, and my heart leaps into my stomach, sending butterflies through my body.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. My brother is behind him, laughing.

“We were standing here for a good minute before I finally had to take matters into my own hands,” Chris says, pulling my phone out of the front pocket of my pajama pants and setting it down on the counter. “Everything okay?”

“I thought you were gone,” I say, turning my attention to the coffee, pouring myself a big cup and sloshing some milk into my mug.

“Merry Christmas to you too, sis,” Paul says, smiling. “Did someone piss in your corn flakes this morning?”

“Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be up.” I turn back to the boys, sipping my coffee. “You guys want pancakes?”

“Make mine with extra love,” Chris says, wrapping his arms around me and planting a kiss on the top of my head.

“Aw, how sweet.” Paul dashes upstairs as I put my coffee down and hug Chris back.

“I thought you left.” I nuzzle into Chris’ crisp white shirt and breathe him in. He smells like wintergreen and snow, and his broad, muscular chest feels solid and strong against me.

“Sweetheart, no. I didn’t leave. I’m not going to do that.” He scoops my ass up in his hands and I’m met with the memory of last night again. His mouth against me, his lips, his hands holding me down and making me feel so amazingly good.

“Where did you go?” I ask quietly. I was relieved when he wasn’t there with me in my bed, and then the cold numbness that followed when I thought he was gone for good made me feel vulnerable and exposed. And now? Now I feel like I’ve been cut open for him to see everything, and I don’t know whether I should run and hide or ask him to do the same for me.

He lets go of me and starts fixing himself a cup of coffee. “In case you forgot, you happened to abandon your truck on the side of the road in a blizzard last night. Paul and I just spent the better part of the last two hours digging it out.”

“Oh.” I take a sip of my coffee and go back to my half-made pancake batter and shrug coolly. “Thanks for that.”

“I know a way you can repay me.” He leans against the counter and blows on his coffee, his sexy, pouty lips making me think naughty things.

He walks toward me and takes my coffee cup away from me like I’ve done something wrong, heat and fire burning in his eyes as he pushes me back against the counter, making a cage around me with his arms.

I look down to see the outline of his cock growing inside his pants, and he pushes it against me in response. “Want to know how you can thank me for digging out your truck?”

“And here I was,” I say, “thinking you did me some favor out of the kindness of your heart. I thought it was all for the spirit of the season.”

His tongue traces along his upper lip and he bends down, forcing his mouth onto my neck and nibbling softly at my tender skin. “It was all for you, baby. You can repay me by letting me get down on my knees and licking you until you come all over my face again. Or do you want me to carry you upstairs right now and fuck you senseless?”

My body slacks down against his. He captures me with his hands, gripping my arms and sending heat through my body at his touch and his words.

“I don’t know. You want a repeat of last night?” I ask softly. We both know I have to go back to California shortly. We both know this won’t last. We both know that all the questions we had a year ago are still burning and urgent.

“A repeat of last night? No, baby. I want that to be a permanent part of my life. Of yours too.” He starts to kiss my neck, nipping his teeth against my ear as he trails kisses down my body.

“I can’t right now,” I say, smiling, my body craving his touch. “I need to get breakfast ready.”

He straightens up and adjusts his shirt. He looked so hot last night in his lumberjack outfit, but now he looks even hotter in his dress shirt and tie.

“You were never one to wear something like that, were you?” I ask, starting to mix up the dry ingredients and turning my music back on my phone. I pop out the earbuds so we can both enjoy the music, and adjust the volume so it isn’t too loud to wake up my sister and parents.

Chris moves into the living room and picks up an ornament that fell off the tree overnight, putting it back on an empty branch. He isn’t putting it back in the right place, but he looks so cute and his butt looks so good in those pants that I let it slide.

“Nah,” he says, looking the tree up and down and then gazing out the window. “But I thought it was a special occasion. Wanted to spruce up the old look for my girl.”

“And what about your dad?” I ask, combining the dry and wet ingredients. “Have you talked to him yet? Is he coming over today?”

Chris keeps looking out the window. His model-good looks are making him seem like he stepped out right off of a website. His beard is really doing wonders for his sexiness level. Not that he wasn’t hot before - but now it’s on another level.

“Nah. I don’t think so,” he says, unmoving and matter-of-factly. “He isn’t really one to celebrate the holidays anymore, you know?”

I bite my lip and look down at the bowl of pancake batter starting to come together. “Right. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Chris turns to me and flashes that gorgeous smile. “It’s nothing, babe.”

I feel stupid for having brought it up, and I hope he isn’t really mad at me under that smile. When my mom asked Chris last night to invite his dad over, I noticed a palpable shift in him. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Babe,” he says, crossing the living room and coming into the kitchen again. “Don’t worry about it. Please. You can’t do anything wrong. You’re incapable of it.”

He sets my mind at ease and I giggle. “Oh, sure. So leaving my truck on the side of the road was the right thing to do last night?”

“Absolutely. Young lady, you know you shouldn’t drive if you feel unsafe,” he says, wagging a finger at me.

“Have you ever thought about going into law enforcement?” I grab a pan from a cabinet and slice a pat of butter into it, turning on the old gas burner. A few clicks and it fires up.

“Now that you mention it, it might not be a bad career path for me.” He dips his finger into the pancake batter and licks it off, sending a little shock into my stomach. “Or maybe I just want the handcuffs that come with the gig.”

He winks and I groan, throwing my hands up into the air.

“Can you please make yourself useful and add some mini chocolate chips to that batter, officer?” The pan is heating up and Chris tosses a few chips into his mouth before pouring a generous amount into the bowl, mixing everything up with the whisk and bringing the bowl over to stove.

“You like giving orders, do you?” He stands behind me and kisses me on the cheek, setting the bowl on the counter next to the stove and pulling me back into him deep with his strong arms. I place my fingers tentatively on his forearms, feeling pure muscle beneath my hands. There’s something different in his embrace than there was a year ago, and it isn’t just because he’s become bigger and stronger. I can feel something different in the way he holds me now. It’s like he knows I’m his. It feel so good, but those feelings of doubt keep creeping their way in.

But I can’t say no. I can’t hold out any longer. I won’t be able to.

I cannot resist this man.