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I close my eyes and smile. A level of happiness I didn’t know was possible settles in my chest.

Fox loves me. He is in love with me.

I lie there in the quiet for a moment, staring at the ceiling. The curtains are still drawn, but the light coming in around them is the soft blue-white that means fresh snow.

It’s the first Christmas of the rest of our lives, and it’s going to be a white one.

Footsteps come back down the hallway.

Fox pushes the bedroom door open with his elbow because his hands are full. He’s got two mugs of steaming coffee, and he’s wearing my old gray sweatpants and nothing else. His hair is a mess. He has creases from the pillow on one cheek, and still, he is the most beautiful human I have ever seen.

More importantly, he’s all mine.

“Morning,” I say.

“Morning, baby.”

He crosses to the window and sets the mugs down carefully on the sill. Then he crawls back into the bed and pulls me against him.

His skin is cool from being out of bed, but he’s warmed up by the time his mouth meets mine.

We kiss slowly because there’s no rush.

His hand slides down my back and settles at my waist. Mine goes into his hair. I fucking love his hair. I’m hard almost immediately, which shouldn’t surprise me because I’ve been half-hard whenever Fox is within twenty feet of me for a decade, but this morning it feels different.

He rolls onto his back and pulls me on top of him.

“Finn.”

“Yeah?”

“We didn’t finish anything last night.”

“I noticed.”

“Are you noticing now?”

“I am very much noticing now.”

He laughs, and it turns into a groan when I roll my hips against his.

I pull the sweatpants all the way down his legs and then straddle him. His hair is fanned out on the pillow. His hand comes up to rest on my thigh, his thumb stroking slowly.

I lick my palm, then wrap my hand around both of us and start to stroke.

“Fuck, baby.”

“Hmm, you like that, Fox?”

“Yeah. Fuck. Yeah.”

I keep the rhythm slow because I want to look at him and see every expression. I want him to look at me while I do this. His eyes stay on mine, and now I can see everything I’ve spent ten years not letting myself see.

I lean down and kiss him without breaking rhythm. He makes a small sound into my mouth. His hand tightens on my thigh.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you too.”