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“Do you think they will be happy with everything?” Despite knowing that Christmas wasn’t about gifts, I had this nagging thought that the kids would be disappointed tomorrow, and regardless of how hard I pushed it away, it kept sneaking back into my mind.
“I’m sure they will still be thrilled with everything we’ve done, Ames, as long as we show them the true meaning of Christmas.” He played with a lock of my red hair, twirling it around his finger.
“What are we going to do next year?” His body stiffened.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Are we going to have to move?”
“Not if I can help it. I don’t want to upset the kids. If anything, we need to be moving to something bigger – not smaller. I just need to figure out a steady source of income.” He sighed, his head falling back against the couch.
“The twins can share rooms for a little longer. This house is plenty big enough. Don’t worry about that. I just want you to worry about being here with us – not enlisting. There has to be a better option.” I snuggled into his chest.
“What do you want from me, Amber? I’m doing the best I can here. I don’t know what else I can do to make the kind of money we need!” He raised his voice at me, and my bottom lip trembled instantly. I didn’t want to upset him.
I pulled away from his chest and looked into his emotion-filled gaze.
“I just want you, Ryan. I’ve only ever wanted you. I just want a perfect Christmas with you and our kids. I don’t care about anything else.”
He sighed and cupped my face with his warm hand. My eyes fluttered closed, his lips so close yet so far, so I tilted my head slightly to make contact with his.
“I just want you,” I whispered, my fingers pressing into his firm chest. His body melted under my touch. “Don’t leave me.”
A hot tear rolled down my flushed cheek, and I fought back the emotion clogging my throat. I wouldn’t cry and ruin tonight. His hand brushed away the tear, and I choked back a sob at the small act.
“Don’t cry, sweet girl. I won’t go. I won’t do it. I’ll find another way.” My body deflated at his admission, and I kissed him with everything I had, my hands cupping his face, my fingers digging into his scalp. I kissed him with absolute relief.
He held me to his chest and then stood. I instinctively wrapped around him, his hands going underneath my butt, holding me up as he walked. I trailed my kisses down his jaw to his neck as he climbed up the stairs. My body jostled with the movement, but I knew he would never drop me.
I continued to kiss up his neck. With every kiss, I inhaled his scent, and my head swam with everything that was Ryan Wilson.
I heard him close and lock our bedroom door. He moved through the darkness of our room and then settled me against the soft velvet of our duvet cover. He was on top of me before I could miss his touch, his hot body igniting a flame within me.
“Make love to me,” I whispered into the darkness. He pulled his shirt over his head and then mine.
“With great honor, Spitfire.”
We became lost to the passion, and then, sometime later, we lied in the silk sheets, our bodies wrapped around the other, legs tangled, hearts beating as one. He kissed my lips softly.
“Merry Christmas, baby.”
