Lisa woke on Christmas Eve with a heavy weight in her heart. It was her absolute favorite day of the year, and yet she'd come to accept that with things between her and Jeff left undone, it would be meaningless.

She knew she had to talk to him, and while she didn't want to find out he didn't feel the same way she did the night before Christmas, she also couldn't bear to go through the holiday without knowing.

She put on a sweater and leggings then made her way downstairs, simultaneously disappointed and relieved to find the house empty. But when she went into the kitchen, she found both breakfast and a note waiting for her. The pancakes and bacon were on a tray wrapped carefully in plastic so they'd stay fresh. A single rose was in a vase on the tray and a note that read:

I had to go run a few errands. I'm hoping you can have dinner with me tonight. I have a Christmas gift I'd like to give you.

Yours,

Jeff.

p.s. Eat the bacon. You need the protein.

She smiled to herself as she leaned over to smell the rose. It was a deep blood red, and she wondered if he knew the symbolism of different colors of roses. Red was for love. But it would be silly to think Jeff was aware of that. He was a lifelong bachelor and a real man's man. He probably got a red rose because it was the most common color.

She slid the plate into the microwave to warm it up, then re-read the note. Pressing it to her chest, she took a deep cleansing breath, her eyes shutting for a moment. One way or another she'd settle this tonight. And until then, she only had a few hours to prepare her own Christmas gift. She'd be risking her heart, but she needed Jeff to know just how real this had become for her. She needed to give him a Christmas he'd never forget.

* * *

Jeff walked into the house carrying his overcoat, shaking snow off his hair and stomping his feet. The snow had started up thirty minutes ago and it was coming down in thick fluffy flakes, starting to collect on lawns and tree branches.

"Lisa?" he called, wondering if she'd read his note and whether he'd find her here waiting, or long gone, along with all his hopes for the future.

He walked through the foyer and into the living room, then stopped for a moment, staring at the sight that greeted him. The Christmas tree was lit up like a beacon of hope, the tiny white lights Lisa had so painstakingly hung illuminating the big room as well as the hundred-plus sparkling ornaments that decorated the full branches.

There was a fire crackling in the fireplace, and two wine glasses with a bottle of red sat on the coffee table. Relief washed through him as he walked toward the dining room and kitchen.

"Lisa?" he called again. And then there she was, walking into the dining room with a big fluffy poinsettia she placed in the middle of the dining table.

"Hi," he said, looking at the table set for two with candles, Christmas china and crystal. "This looks amazing. I didn't mean you needed to make dinner. I was going to take you out."

"I know," she said, her cheeks pinking up. "I wanted to. It's Christmas Eve, we have to have a traditional holiday dinner."

"Ok." He stood there like a dumbass, so overwhelmed with his feelings he was speechless for a moment. That she'd go to the trouble to cook for him, much less do all this—the table, the candles, the decorations—it was more than anyone had ever done for him in his whole life, and he didn't think there were words to express how much it meant to him.

"It'll be another forty-five minutes until it's all ready though. I thought maybe we could have some wine? You said you wanted to talk...I have something I'd like to say, too." She gestured toward the living room and he nodded, following.

Once they were settled on the sofa and he'd uncorked the wine and served them each a glass, he held his up. "So should we toast to a Merry Christmas?"

"Yes. Merry Christmas," she said, delicately clinking her glass to his. They each sipped the wine, then descended into awkward silence.

"I've been thinking," he said.

"There's something I need to say," she told him at the same time. They both laughed, then he set his glass down before taking hers gently from her fingers and putting it next to his.

"I want to hear what you have to say, but I've been practicing this speech for a couple of days and if I don't get it out I might lose my mind," he told her, taking her hands in his.

Her tiny bones in his big paws, he thought how vulnerable she was physically with him, but how emotionally vulnerable he was with her. The trust they'd had to give one another the last few weeks was astonishing. And he was so grateful she'd chosen to trust him. Now he had to trust her just the same. So he took a deep breath and he began.

"The first time I saw you, I felt like I'd just found the answer to all the questions in my life." He stroked her smooth palms and smiled softly. "I told myself the questions revolved around how I'd get a promotion at work. I didn't want to admit I had much bigger, more important questions than those and you were the answer to them as well."

She blinked at him, her lips shiny and beckoning. But he knew he had to finish what he'd started before he could even think about kissing her, and that was only if she'd have him.

"I've devoted my entire adult life to the military, and it's been good to me. It's given me a place to live, a way to be successful at something. It's kept me moving in a positive direction, and for a kid who came from where I did, that's really important. But it couldn’t give me what I missed most when I was growing up—it couldn't give me the kind of feeling you do every time I walk into this house and see you."

She gasped, her hands closing around his more tightly.

"Lisa," he said, his voice rough with emotion, "not since my mother left when I was seven years old has anyone cared about giving me a home. A place to live isn't a home, and I'm not sure I'd have realized that if you hadn't come into my life. I am so grateful for everything you've done for me, for your beauty—" he stroked the back of his hand down one of her cheeks, "—for the light and warmth you bring to my world. I know we started this with a piece of paper and talk about money and arrangements, but this hasn't been about a contract for me since the first time I touched you in that shower."

He had more planned, but that was when she gave a little cry and threw herself at him, pressing her lips to his with such fervor any more words flew right out of his head.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her onto his lap. Their tongues tangled and danced, she moaned, he growled, and buttons, zippers, and clasps flew open.

Minutes later, his lips skated down her throat as she straddled him, her bare core pressing against his hard cock.

"I thought you were done with me," he whispered in her ear as he nibbled on her tender lobe.

"Never. I was afraid you didn’t feel what I do. I was in too deep...needed to—oh God, do that again..."

He smiled, shifting his hips to press his cock against her pussy again. Damn, she was like heaven, all wet, soft heat.

"And how do you feel?" he asked, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth.

She froze, and he pulled away a few inches to gaze into her eyes. He saw it all there, exactly what he needed so much to see. Honesty, truth, love.

"Oh, baby," he told her as tears filled her eyes. "Me too," he whispered. "I love you, too."

She nodded, overcome with emotions. He kissed her then, until they were both gasping and groaning, the friction of her heat on his erection making him see stars behind his eyes. When he finally couldn't stand it anymore, he lifted her up, fitting his cock between them before she slid down over him.

"Oh God," she breathed out as she stretched to accommodate him.

He began to move her hips up and down, his fingers finding her clit and massaging at the same time. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, and he wished he had more hands so he could touch her everywhere all at once. There wasn't a single inch of her he didn't want—under his fingers, his tongue, his cock. She was like a dessert he could never fill up on—decadent, rich, and sweet as hell.

He felt her tighten around him and her neck arched as her head fell back.

"That's it," he coaxed. "You're so fucking beautiful."

Then she was coming, all pulses of hot slick need around his aching cock, and he followed her like a rocket, the orgasm going on and on. He knew in that moment, the closest he'd ever be to heaven was with this woman in his arms, and he had no intention of ever letting her get away from him again.

* * *

Hours later, dinner long forgotten, they lay under a velvet throw next to the fire. His fingers danced over her skin lazily as the glow from the fire lit her hair with red tones.

That's when he noticed the stockings hung from the mantelpiece. "You got us stockings," he said, smiling.

"I did. I was hoping you'd want to celebrate more Christmases with me," she answered, "so I embroidered them this afternoon."

"You made those?" he asked in astonishment.

"No, I just put our names on them."

"How?"

She laughed. "My mother's sewing machine. Trust me, it's not difficult if you know how to do it."

He shook his head and propped himself up on one elbow looking down at her. "You're amazing, you know that?"

She blushed, and he kissed her on the nose. "Stay right here," he whispered before standing, pulling on his boxer briefs, and going to the foyer where he'd left his overcoat when he came home. He retrieved her Christmas gift and sat down on the floor next to her, one hand hidden behind his back.

"You might want to sit up for this," he said, his heart beating a tad too fast.

She sat, the velvet blanket clutched to her perfect breasts. Focus, Jeff, he thought.

"I got you a gift, and I know we're supposed to wait for Christmas morning, but I don't want to wait any longer for this. I need you to know how much I mean it when I say I love you."

He brought the small velvet box out from behind his back and opened it, revealing a diamond solitaire set in white gold to match the simple wedding ring he'd given her when they got married.

"We may have done this backwards, but I don't want you to think for one moment I don't want to be married to you. If it's too soon I understand, we can talk about it in a few months, but I'm hoping that for us, the time is perfect. You're wearing one ring from me, but I'd like you to wear another, one that says, 'I love you and I want to spend my life with you’."

Her eyes shone and she forgot about covering herself as she reached for his face, her palms sliding over his razor stubble. "I love you, too, and yes, yes, I'll be married to you, and I'll spend my life with you, no matter what that might bring us."

He slid the ring onto her finger, right where it belonged, above her wedding band.

"I have a feeling it's going to bring us nothing but joy," he told her before they kissed, and Jeff knew without a doubt that Christmas would never be the same again.