Rylan went to his room to shower while I took the bathroom in the guest room where I'd stayed before. I knew it was the best thing for us to shower separately since there was no way, once we were both naked, that we could keep our hands off each other, but it didn't mean I didn't spend every moment of my shower thinking about Rylan across the hall, wet and glistening. I could picture it clearly in my mind's eye, the way the water would roll down his sculpted chest, sliding across those perfect abs and even lower.

I purposefully lingered in the shower, taking the time to let the hot water ease away any knots I had from sleeping on the floor. I wanted to give Rylan the chance to leave before I was done because if I saw him again, I couldn't say I'd have the strength to tell him he had to go. Just the thought of him with hair still damp from his shower, the clean smell of soap combined with the scent of him...my stomach tightened.

Before meeting Rylan, sex had just been another itch to scratch, a biological need that came on me. I would satisfy it and then move on, putting it out of my mind until the next time. I'd never actually thought about sex much, not like I did with Rylan. It was like every cell in my body was hyperaware of every cell in his. It didn't matter if he was twenty feet or twenty millimeters away from me. I felt him, craved him. And it wasn't purely physical either. It was what it meant. Both of us had had our fair share of sexual partners who didn't mean anything more than fleeting satisfaction, but it wasn't like that between us. There was this whole other emotional connection I never realized existed until him.

I sighed as I rinsed the last of the conditioner from my hair and climbed out of the shower. He said he would only be a couple hours, but I wasn't sure what that would actually translate to. I needed to have a plan of what I would do while he was gone. I'd been in his house before, but never alone. I hadn't considered that it might be awkward.

I'd brought some comfortable clothes, so once I'd put those on, I headed back downstairs to the living room. We'd left things a bit of a mess from the night before, so I went to work tidying things up. I doubted Rylan would've cared very much if I'd left it, but I had far too much nervous energy to sit down and do nothing.

I put his gift into his stocking and carefully folded the wrapping paper. I wasn't usually a sentimental person, but I definitely wanted to keep everything from today. These were memories I'd want to cherish, no matter what the future held. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to put my gift back under the tree, but most of the other gifts were gone now that Rylan had taken them and I felt weird putting the box next to a couple of other boxes. One had Zeke's name on it, the other was for Rylan's mom. I supposed that meant he wouldn't be visiting her today. I never asked how he split his time between his parents. I figured it wasn't any of my business. I just hoped I wasn't taking away from the time he normally spent with her.

In the end, I left the box where I'd set it on the coffee table. Maybe, I thought with a grin, he'd want me to wear them tonight. I was already planning on surprising him with one of the pieces of sexy lingerie that I'd bought.

I cleaned up the food next, carrying it all to the kitchen and boxing things up in whatever I could find. I made stacks on the counter, unsure where he'd want things, and then went back to the living room to wipe down the table. I folded up the sleeping bags and set them off to one side, assuming he'd want them washed, but not knowing where to put them. Once all of that was done, only an hour had passed and I'd run out of things to do.

I walked over to the tree. I noticed the ornaments last night, of course, but I hadn't really taken the time to examine any of them very closely. Some had been parts of sets, but were odd numbers like seven or eleven, making me think that, over the years, the other ones had been broken or lost. There were two hand-painted snowmen, one looking fairly traditional, the other with a Hawaiian lei around its neck. I touched them both carefully, turning them so that I could see Rylan's name and a year written on each. I did the math. He would've been eight for one, thirteen for the other. I wondered if his family had a tradition of making Christmas ornaments every year.

As I made my way around the tree, I saw some that had been made with clumsy kid hands. Decorated glass bulbs with glitter all over them. A yarn figure I thought might be a reindeer. Bits of beads and wire strung together into what looked like a star. Then there were specialty ones. A handful of ones for “World's Best Boss” and more than one for “World's Best Brother.” There was a flat gold one with his name etched in it along with the year he'd been born.

I'd made it almost entirely around the tree when another one caught my eye. It was in the center of the tree, angled so that it would be most visible from the armchair next to the fire. The place, I realized, where Rylan would most likely sit when he came in here by himself. It was a simple ornament, elegant. A silver heart with small blue jewels I hoped weren't real sapphires lining the edge. It seemed far too expensive to have real gems in a Christmas ornament. In the center, in fancy script, were the words “First Christmas,” the year and the letters R and J. It matched my necklace and earrings so perfectly that I had no doubt they'd been purchased the same place. I felt tears prick at my eyes as I reached out and touched it.

I had a Christmas ornament. Technically it was his, but it was about me, and that was enough. I'd never had an ornament of my own. The few group homes that had tried to do the whole tree thing always had the same boxes of ornaments for every group of kids, so there was never any sense of them belonging to us, even if we were the ones who'd hung them up.

I took a shaky breath and rubbed my hands across my face. I hadn't been prepared for how sentimental the holiday would make me. I turned away from the tree and began to look around the room. I'd never had the chance to take in all of the details or explore the house. I would do that now, I decided. I didn't just want to see the furnishings and the way the place had been decorated. I wanted to spot the personal touches. Rylan knew so many intimate details of my history and, while I knew the basics about him, most were the kinds of things I'd read during my research into Archer Enterprises. He'd shared a bit about his family, but there was so much more I didn't know.

The first thing I noticed that I hadn't before, were the pictures on the mantel above the fireplace. I'd registered the frames, but never really took the time to look at the contents. Rylan was easy to spot in most of them. His hair was the same color, though the length of it changed, and he'd gone from thin to muscled, but the smile would've told me who he was if nothing else had. That was the smile that he didn't use on his employees or clients. It was a genuine one, the kind that reached all the way to his eyes.

In one of the pictures, he couldn't have been more than five or so, standing between two adults who were obviously his parents. He'd inherited traits from both of them, not looking more like one than the other. Another picture had his father with a different brunette and a baby. Suzette and her mother, I assumed. The smile in that one looked forced, as did the one with him and his mom from what looked like around the same time.

There were two more of him with Suzette at their respective graduations and one of him and Zeke at his graduation. Rylan looked so happy with both of them, his arm around their shoulder, face beaming. I turned away. I really hoped they'd come around soon. Rylan cared about them both so much and I hated feeling like I was pulling them apart.

I wandered through the rest of the house, stopping to look at decorations, books, pictures, anything I could find that spoke of a personal touch. Most of the pictures were of Suzette and Zeke, though I did recognize Lara in a couple, as well as a few other people I didn't know. Family members or friends, I wasn't sure.

I found a library on the first floor, tucked into a back corner and overflowing with books. Some were leather-bound first editions that looked like they hadn't been touched. Others were dog-eared and obviously much-read. Mostly thrillers, but there were a couple science fiction and fantasy ones I recognized as well. The artwork here was the same as in the rest of the house. Not insanely famous artists, but ones I was sure I could do an internet search on and get more than a few results. I didn't know much about art other than what kinds of things I liked. All of the paintings in Rylan's house I liked. Landscapes and abstracts with swirls of color. None had people in them and only a few had animals.

It was interesting, I thought, how there were so many things I didn't know about him and I cared so deeply for him anyway. Some people would've written it off as solely physical attraction or something brought on by the trauma I'd recently gone through. None of that was true though. I might have a lot to learn about Rylan, but what I felt for him wasn't because of his history or the stories he could tell about his life and work. It was because of who he was. His story had shaped him, of course, but I didn't need all of the answers to know the kind of man he was.

I'd seen the way he pushed himself at work, striving to be the best not only out of some level of competition, but because he also genuinely cared about the product he was creating. I knew that he'd force himself to do things he wasn't comfortable with rather than shirk his duty. He was generous, but not irresponsible with his money, both professionally and personally. He also didn't ask for recognition for what he did. While researching Archer Enterprises, I'd stumbled across a story about how a charity had recently given him an award for all of the time and money he'd donated, but no one had realized he'd been involved until that story had come out.

I'd seen in my own life how caring and understanding he was, how much he loathed injustice and hated those who hurt other people. He was loyal and forgiving. The fact that he was still friends with Lara said as much. But he wasn't a pushover either. He did what he felt was right, no matter the consequences.

I was still thinking about all of the different characteristics that made up the man I loved when I headed back into the guest room to freshen up. He'd been gone for over two hours and I wanted to surprise him whenever he came back. I dumped the bag of lingerie on the bed and set about the difficult task of deciding what to wear.

Finally, I chose one, thinking it would go perfectly with the jewelry he'd gotten me if he decided he wanted me to wear it. It was a sheer teddy with lace woven through the fabric to cover my nipples and then down to other essentials. It hugged my curves but didn't squeeze my breasts into the kind of cleavage I shouldn't have. Leaving my shoulders and back bare, my angel wings were completely visible, but it did disguise the scar on my side. Not that I felt I needed to hide my scars from him.

I looked in the mirror and gingerly touched my cheek. The cut that Christophe had inflicted on me was healing nicely and didn't hurt unless firm pressure was applied directly to it, and even then, it wasn't much pain, for which I was grateful. I had a high pain tolerance and liked a bit of kink in my sex, but I didn't enjoy pain for pain's sake.

I considered putting on some make-up but decided against it. The deep blue of the teddy and the complementary blue of my hair made my eyes stand out already. They looked even more pale than usual, more like the gray of an overcast winter sky.

I considered stockings, but decided against them. I would be walking around barefoot and didn't want to risk ruining them. I hadn't brought heels and didn't want to ruin the effect with my more standard shoes. I did, however, need to wear something over my gown. The house was warm enough for me to be in my bare feet, but not quite at a temperature where being nearly nude was comfortable.

Hanging on the back of the bathroom door was a thick, fluffy robe. I pulled it on, loving the feel of the soft cotton against my skin. I'd go back to the living room, I decided, and stretch out on the couch, maybe read for a bit. Then, when Rylan got back, I'd surprise him and we could pick up where things had left off.

At some point while I was reading, I must've dozed off because the sound of a door closing woke me. A thrill went through me and I quickly got to my feet. I smoothed down my hair, checked my robe and then hurried out towards the front door to show Rylan how much I'd missed him.

I made it halfway there when I saw him. My heart did a flip. It wasn't Rylan after all. It was Zeke. And he looked pissed.