Not long after I stepped into the bedroom, I heard the water running in the kitchen.
Any second now, he’ll come barreling in again like some gorgeous hurricane and undo every reason I had for keeping my distance.
I slipped into the bathroom, starting my skincare ritual like it could anchor me. I’d just opened a package full of luxurious serums and expensive face masks—products that made my pores feel like royalty and my mind wondered who the hell owned this cottage before him.
What kind of people sent gifts like this? Whoever they were, they seemed to know Mic.
And they liked us together.
Still, the thoughts quieted the moment I caught his silhouette leaning against the bathroom doorway.
“Mic…” I murmured, not looking directly at him, but catching his reflection in the mirror. His expression was already unraveling me. Those almond eyes didn’t just look—they devoured.
He stepped closer, slow, sure. His hand trailed down the curve of my spine, then firmly over my ass. I couldn’t help it—I moaned, soft and easy.
“Am I ever… getting dressed?” I asked, barely keeping the grin out of my voice.
“With your permission—” His hand slipped down the front of my red satin panties, the other tracing all my softer places. “I’d rather you didn’t stop me. Will you?”
Heat was building fast between us. “You’re… asking me now?”
My bottom lip tucked beneath the top.
He was chaos, tenderness, and obsession.
If I was his anomaly, he was the mirrored door—offering me every version of ourselves. I never knew who he’d be with me, or who I’d become with him. That mystery? That was what made it real. His eyes carved pathways along my body.
I was already a reborn phoenix.
“I’m trying something different,” he whispered, kissing the shell of my ear.
“Then, no.” I pulled him in, arms draped around his shoulders. “I won’t stop you.”
He took them, folding my body gently forward. I felt his knee between my thighs, guiding me open.
I heard the smirk in his voice before he even spoke.
“Good. ‘Cause I need to feel you right now.”
“Feel—oh…” My voice fell apart as he sank into me, my body stretched over the sink. His rhythm was deep.
I swore I could feel him behind my ribs. He filled every hollow, read every secret I didn’t say aloud. And god, I let him.
He pinned my arms behind me with one hand, the other teasing over my breasts, circling my nipples until I nearly cried out. My cheek pressed to the cool marble counter. It couldn’t chill me. Not now. His heat poured through every slow thrust.
A sunstorm between my legs.
Winter never stood a chance.
His voice pulled me back to the present. He was on the bed, fully dressed—because of course he was. A knitted forest-green sweater stretched across his chest, sharp black slacks finishing the look. Somehow, he’d just wrecked me for hours and still had the audacity to be buttoned-up perfection.
“I know you’re overthinking again. Your makeup is fine.”
I let out a sigh, still fussing with my eyeliner like it held the weight of every insecurity. He didn’t see me move from the vanity, so he came closer. His scent reached me first—mahogany, soft spice. Comforting. One arm wrapped around my shoulder, and he kissed the crown of my head like a spell.
“I just wanted it to be perfect,” I mumbled, recapping my eyeliner. Brushes and palettes littered the counter like a battlefield. “Free-handing is still a little tricky.”
“Baby,” he chuckled, turning me to face him. His hands cupped my cheeks like I was a masterpiece, not a mess.
“We’re not meeting strangers. It’s my team. A cocktail lounge. Half of them won’t even notice your eyeliner is asymmetrical.”
I panicked, darting my gaze back to the mirror. He backed away slowly, amusement all over his face.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “The greater the distance, the better.”
“You don’t mean that.” His smirk widened. “I’ll be outside, beautiful.”
He gave me one last lingering look—no, a scan—from my red Converse platforms to the soft white thigh-high socks, then the sage green knit dress hugging my hips. His smirk deepened. He recognized the outfit. It was his suggestion.
“Don’t keep me too long.”
“Alright,” I whispered, mostly to myself.
My hands fell to the edge of the sink. I looked at myself again. My braids were pinned in a spiral, a few curls falling loose at the front. I looked… composed. Not perfect. But maybe close enough.
I just didn’t want to disappoint anyone. Not him. Not these people who were like family to him. I hadn’t been around people that mattered in a long time.
I didn’t want to mess it up.
I kicked snow off my boot just as she stepped out a minute later.
I hoped my smile said what my mouth didn’t—you’ve got nothing to worry about. Everyone was actually excited to meet her.
But the second I saw her—
I couldn’t afford to make us any more late, but her red-tinted lips caught me slipping. She looked good enough to taste. It took everything in me not to haul her back inside and keep her there until spring.
“Princesa, your chariot awaits.”
I opened the car door with a slight bow, dramatic just to make her roll her eyes.
“Wait—” I caught a snowflake off the crown of her head and flicked it into the wind.
“Thank you.” She kissed my cheek, then slid into the seat with a sigh. I shut the door behind her and caught the softness in her smile before walking around to my side.
Once I got us on the road, she curled into me, her gaze fixed on the snow flurries scattering across the windshield. I hoped the heated seats were doing their job—the temperature was dropping fast. But she looked content. Like the storm inside her had calmed down a little.
“So,” she asked, voice low. “Anything I should be prepared for?”
She didn’t know the people coming tonight weren’t just my team—they were her people too. I’d called them in secret. Took some convincing, sure, but they jumped at the chance to be here for her.
I glanced at her hand resting gently on her lap, fingers brushing the hem of her knitted dress. I wanted her to feel held before she ever even walked into the room.
“You met me, right?” she deadpanned.
I laughed and leaned over to kiss her forehead.
“Yes. That’s why I said it, amor.”
“I wish you hadn’t told me,” she said, half-pouting, even though I knew damn well she would’ve thrown a fit if I hadn’t. She tucked her head against my shoulder. “I’m completely flustered.”
“You have nothing to worry about, Kiyanna. I know it’s been hard for you to connect with people, but they already care about you. You’ve got that kind of presence. Just trust me, okay?”
She made a face, all mock resentment, but I felt her body soften next to mine.
My hand slid over her crossed thigh. I didn’t mean to be a menace. But her skin under that knit dress—God, I was weak.
She gasped when I slipped my fingers higher, toward her panty line. Her breath hitched the second I touched her, and suddenly, my focus had to split between the road and the quiet wreckage I was creating in her seat.
Her hips shifted, granting me more space. My fingers sank inside her, slow but deliberate. She was so warm, so inviting, I almost forgot we were headed to a party.
“Micahhh……” she breathed, and I bit my lip at the way she dragged my name. I knew what it meant.
I nodded. I wasn’t stopping. Not this time.
She clenched around my fingers, body tensing as the pleasure took over. A gasp, a curse, a grip on my arm.
At the stop sign, I glanced over. Her eyes were half-lidded, lips parted. She looked like she’d been kissed by a storm.
I couldn’t resist tasting her lipstick.
I kissed her, slow and hungry, and she grabbed the back of my neck to pull me closer. I melted into it, letting myself be swallowed by her reckoning.
Usually—that would piss me off to the tenth degree. Not today, though.
We pulled away, breathless and laughing, just in time to see an old man weaving his tiny Cooper around us like we’d insulted his bloodline.
“He could’ve waited,” she muttered. “What if he slipped off the road?”
That’s my girl. Always worried about the wrong things.
“He’s just jealous,” I smirked.
“’He can’t match our fire and it shows.”
I scanned the room. My eyes found her near the band, a champagne flute in one hand, her smile in full bloom. Her dress beamed with color as she laughed at a group of her friends. Our eyes met and she stuck her tongue out.
I smirked. She knew she was at a safe distance. Otherwise, I could think of a lot of other ways her tongue could be of good—
“Man—she got you wide open,” Zune said behind me, leaning over the bar.
I took my shot before turning. “And your point?”
“No point. I get it. She’s magnetic.”
I gave him the warning look. The kind that flared my nostrils wide. Too wide.
“Trust me, I know how lucky I am.” I said, burning my throat through another shot. “And she’s aware. She's taken care of—“ I grinned, holding up two fingers in the air. “Twice.”
The guys hollered and elbowed each other like teenagers. I rolled my eyes and dappled Chris.
“Now that you boastfully told why y’all were late to your own party,” He laughed. “Just don’t mess it up. She’s rare.”
“I know.” My eyes found hers again—she kissed the air like she knew I was watching. My whole damn chest flipped. “That’s why I’m not letting her go.”
“Another round?” Gabriel grinned, already flagging down the bartender.
“Let’s toast to Mic’s better half showing up in that dress.”
Autumn—my girl from college—kept glancing over at Mic and his friends huddled near the bartender. “You didn’t tell me he looked like that.”
I feigned obliviousness, even as I felt Mic’s piercing gaze across the room. Naturally, my friends had been astounded when they saw him standing beside me. But I already knew how well we complimented each other. Specifically in our fashion choices. No one else had holiday colors on.
“Must’ve slipped my mind.”
“Please.” Stembie discreetly nodded toward his group. “Not a single guy in his circle is even remotely ugly. Where have I been looking?”
“I heard they all have wives, though,” Julia added, sounding almost defeated.
I corrected her, sipping from my glass. “Had. Mic hangs out with a much older group. They were once all married, but now all divorced.”
“You’re shitting me.” Autumn didn’t bother hiding her amusement. “Okay, what’s wrong with them?”
Stembie waved a hand. “You don’t need to do that, Kiy. Tonight’s about you. That should be the only thing that matters.” She eyed Autumn, who twirled her straw and pulled a face.
I laughed softly. “I’ll put in a word for y’all, alright?”
That made Autumn perk up instantly. She turned to Stembie. “That’s why she’ll always be my top girl.”
“Yeah, who you lying to?” Stembie retorted, pointing at her before brushing it off. “She’s your matchmaker because you can’t ever find anyone yourself.”
Then Julia leaned in and asked me, “Are you happy?”
The question caught me so off guard, I didn’t answer right away.
“Why wouldn’t she be, Juls?” Autumn teased. “You’ve seen how many times he’s been swooning over her.”
“Yes,” I finally answered, lifting my flute. “Julia, I’m incredibly happy. Some days… it doesn’t feel real. At least not to me.”
“But he is,” Julia said, squeezing my hand. “And you deserve to be happy. I’m glad you found your soulmate.”
I smiled toward her. “Thank you.”
I knew Julia was my favorite for a reason.
“Ladies,” came his voice first—Mic—arriving with a tray of refills. “I noticed the glasses were running low over here.”
“Or—you just wanted an excuse to come over for your lady,” Autumn tested, snatching her drink first.
I shook my head, trying not to blush in front of them.
“I’ll own that too. If y’all don’t mind me dancing with her,” Mic said, eyes fixed on me as he placed my drink down.
Then he pointed to the dance floor. “This is our song.”
“Go ahead. Enjoy y’all,” Julia grinned, waving us off.
“But before that—” Mic signaled his boys to come over. “There’s some bachelors asking if my lady’s friends are single.”
“Absolutely!” they all said in unison, my embarrassment growing by the second.
“Behave,” I warned under my breath as Mic took my hand. He led us to the dance floor while we watched our friends start mingling behind us.
I shook my head in disbelief.
Match-makers strike again.
“You really didn’t have to do that.”
“But I did. For you,” he said, spinning me into his chest. “Now stop worrying.”
“Thank you,” I whispered as our song filled the room. “I still don’t understand how you pulled all this off without me knowing.”
He chuckled, and I felt the vibration against my cheek. “Yeah. Believe me—it was a daunting task. But it's worth it to see you smile this wide.”
“Especially with Autumn,” I laughed. “That girl’s never held water.”
“Oh, I know,” he said. “It took me a while to figure out who could keep her distracted long enough. Only way she’d stay quiet.”
“That cunning woman,” I giggled.
Mic’s hand found my waist and he stopped swaying. “Like I said… worth it.” He smiled, kissed me, completely ignoring the dagger stares our friends were sending our way.
“How did I get so lucky?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He snickered, kissing the inside of my arm. “That should be my line.”
The night felt light. Calm. Like floating.
When we finished dancing, we left our friends to mingle—only to discover alliances had already begun forming.
Julia and Chris were a surprising match.
Julia, a renowned chef, instantly clashed with Chris’s firm (and frankly absurd) belief that grilled cheese should never be paired with tomato soup.
She challenged him to create a better pairing, promising him her number if he succeeded. Chris talked the lounge’s kitchen into letting him whip something up on the spot.
Autumn and Zune, the quiet storm duo, were unbothered by the crowd—until a drunken man stumbled into Autumn, spilling his drink on her favorite designer dress.
Zune had him outside within seconds. After that, Autumn couldn’t stop blushing. “No one’s ever done that for me,” she kept repeating. He had her at the first punch.
Stembie and Gabriel, the scholar-ambiverts, found their rhythm through a pool table wager.
If she beat him two out of three rounds, he had to publicly declare his interest. She beat him all three—and by the end of the night, they were curled up in a booth, whispering like they’d been in love for years.
Mic might not have realized the full scope of what he set in motion, but one thing was clear:
The holidays had quietly turned into a lucrative romance economy.
The warmth of the party still clung to me as we slipped back inside the cottage, cheeks flushed from more than just champagne.
My platform sneakers hit the rug first.
It was the soft kind—the kind that stretches between two people who’ve said all they needed to in front of others.
Mic shrugged off his coat and draped mine next to it. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes followed me. I walked over to the kitchen island, setting down a familiar envelope. It’s the letter he’d given me days ago—the one I never had the courage to open.
Maybe because it’s Christmas and I’m spending the holidays with someone extraordinary. Instead of eating pints of ice cream alone.
Maybe it was the way his hand hovered over the small of my back as I passed by.
Or maybe because his truth curled around my ribcage, begging to be read.
“Do you mind if I read it now?” I asked.
The one perfectly addressed to me. I took it out of my coat pocket before we entered the living room. My hands ran over the embroidered lettering and the official wax stamp on that back.
His brows lifted, like he hadn’t expected me to bring it up.
“I was wondering if you would,” he said, voice low. “Take your time.”
I peeled it with a letter knife and opened slowly, the paper soft and worn at the edges. Like he’d held it too many times. Like it carried his pulse.
A thread pulling me toward the version of him that existed only when we were alone—raw, unfiltered, and full of love. The parts of him the world didn’t get.
By the time I reached the last line, I couldn’t breathe properly. My throat tightened, not from sadness, but from the swell of something too big to name.
“I wrote you something too,” I whispered, almost embarrassed. “Didn’t know if I’d give it to you. But…”
He stepped closer, slowly, like I might change my mind.
I nodded, losing the rest of my senses to anticipation. I handed him the folded page from my dress pocket. I couldn’t watch him read it. So…I stared at the snow beginning to settle outside, pretending I wasn’t trembling inside my chest.
When he finished, he tucked the note into his shirt pocket—like it belonged close to his heart.
He pulled me into him, gently, like he was still holding every word I’d written. My hands curled into the fabric at his chest. The moment stretched, suspended in the quiet.
I pressed my lips to his collarbone. Once. Then again.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes hooded, voice like thunder wrapped in silk.
“I’ve been waiting to touch you like this.”
My thumb traced the corner of her mouth, smudging whatever lipstick the party hadn’t already kissed away.
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Just breathe. Sweet, needy breath.
I kissed her, slow and deep, like I wanted to taste the trust she’d just given me. And I did. Every soft sigh. Every unspoken sentence tucked behind her ribs.
I slid my hands up her thighs, gripping her through the dress she’d teased me with all night. It had glittered under the lights like a dare. Now it pooled around her hips as I peeled it back, baring her skin to my hunger.
“Turn around,” I whispered into her ear. “Let me look at you.”
She obeyed with a grace that almost broke me.
I undressed her with reverence. Like the body beneath was art, and I was lucky just to be in its orbit. But the more I saw, the less calm I became.
Her softness, her restraint—I’ll break that soon.
I bent her forward over the arm of the couch, kissed down her spine, hands firm on her waist. She moaned as I teased her again, fingers tracing what I already knew by heart.
“I can’t be soft forever, baby,” I muttered, voice rough against her skin. “You don’t want me to be.”
“No,” she gasped. “I don’t.”
I pushed inside her in one slow, steady thrust. We both groaned—her from the stretch, me from the way she clenched around me like she never wanted to let go.
I started slow. Deep. Her fingers clawed at the fabric beneath her. I pulled her hair gently to make her arch, make her feel everything.
“You feel that?” I growled, fucking her deeper. “That’s what your letter did to me.”
She whimpered my name, and that’s when I lost it. I picked up the pace. The room echoed with the sound of us—skin, breath, the sharp cry when I hit the spot that made her legs shake.
She screamed it when she came. I felt it ripple through her, hot and powerful, clenching around me like fire and silk. I held onto her hips, trying to ground myself, trying not to lose control.
But I wanted to lose it. For her. Inside her.
“I’m not pulling out,” I warned.
I thrust once more, hard, and spilled into her, groaning as I buried myself fully. She trembled in my arms as I leaned over her back, breath heavy against her shoulder.
We stayed like that for a long time.
Breathing each other in. Existing only in the aftermath of letters, promises, and sweat.
She curled into me after, skin still flushed, breath slowing against my chest like a metronome finally finding rest. The lights outside cast faint shadows against the window, flickering soft against her bare back.
I brushed her hair away from her face, fingers still trembling. Not from what we did, but from what we said before. What we gave each other on paper. I’d undressed her with my hands, yeah—but the letter? That’s where she undressed her soul.
“You okay?” I asked quietly, mouth pressed to her temple.
She nodded, then paused. “I think I needed that more than I realized.”
“The sex?” I teased gently, but she didn’t let me dodge it.
“Your letter,” she said, voice thick. “And mine. I—I read it slowly. Like it was going to disappear if I looked away.”
“It nearly did,” I admitted, threading my fingers between hers. “I rewrote that thing more times than I’ll ever admit.”
She was quiet for a beat. Then, “I wasn’t sure if you’d even want mine.”
“Are you kidding me?” I turned her chin gently to face me. “Kiy. If you had lit that shit on fire, I would’ve read the ashes.”
She laughed softly, burying her face in my chest. “That’s morbid.”
“That’s love,” I whispered.
Just laid there, cheek pressed to my sternum, drawing small circles with her fingertip over the tattoo on my chest.
“What now?” she finally asked.
I looked down at her. “Now we sleep.”
“No, I mean… now that it’s all out in the open. Where do we go from here?”
I thought about it. The parties. The past lives. The ghosts in both our chests. Then I kissed her shoulder, slow and reverent.
“Now,” I said, “We live in it. All of it. Love letters and lustrous messages. Wounds and warmth. Every version of us that ever tried and failed—we owe them this.”
Her breath caught. I felt it.
That one word sounded like trust.
She shifted closer. I wrapped the quilt tighter around us, her body nestled against mine like we’d been molded that way in another life. Maybe we had.
Outside, the wind whispered against the glass. Inside, her heartbeat matched mine. And for once, there was nothing left to say.
Only everything left to feel.
