Winter Song Page 2
I know what you're thinking, and you know what I'm thinking.
We have all night.
As you play with Ava, I let my eyes become reacquainted with your body. Your hair is still long, and I'm forever grateful that you weren't forced to cut it. It flows over your shoulders in wild curls.
My fingers itch to touch it.
We have all night.
It's hard to tell because you're wearing your USMC sweatshirt, but I know your body is fit and toned. For one thing, the Marines require it. For another, you were always a health nut, and I bet that hasn’t changed.
You’ll be so disappointed when you see the crap in our fridge.
You'll forgive me.
John offers to make lunch and asks Ava to help him in the kitchen. She looks conflicted, as if she's afraid to walk out of the room. You promise you'll be right here when she gets back, and with a quiet nod, she takes her grandfather's hand.
You stand, and I hear you sigh as you focus on the Christmas tree. You tiptoe to reach one of the homemade ornaments on the top branch, and I bite back a groan when I see the sliver of skin along the small of your back.
We have all night.
Unable to stay away a moment longer, I slowly walk toward you. You smile and snake your arms around my waist as I press a kiss to your hair.
“It's a beautiful tree, Jason.”
I kiss your hair again, just because I can.
“The entire house is beautiful,” you continue softly. “The lights and the smells. Everything is perfect.”
“It wasn't perfect until now.”
You tilt your face toward mine, and I see the golden flecks in your beautiful green eyes. They dart to my mouth, and my breath hitches when you moisten your bottom lip.
“Kiss me,” you plead, and it pierces my soul.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because we have all night.”
You smile knowingly. You're still such a flirt.
“Just a little one?”
“Just a little one won't be enough, and you know it.”
You giggle. “We do get a little carried away.”
John and Ava reappear with soup and sandwiches, and the four of us eat lunch around the fire. We spend the afternoon as a family, watching Christmas movies and finally playing with the dollhouse. It was the one present she really wanted, but I know it’s not her favorite gift.
That would be you.
The afternoon fades into night, and after helping with the dinner dishes, John announces that he's headed home.
“Ava, want to spend the night at Grandpa’s house?”
He glances at the two of us, and I see you try to hide your grin.
“I'm not leaving Mommy,” our daughter says defiantly.
While I appreciate his offer, I can't say that I'm surprised. She's been attached to your hip since you walked through the door, and I don't expect that to change anytime soon. There's no further discussion, and your dad offers us a sympathetic smile before saying goodnight.
I'm never far away, but I keep my distance as I let you and Ava have your moments of bedtime bonding. You bathe her and read to her, and when our daughter says her prayers, she thanks God for bringing Mommy home for Christmas.
“That's what I really, really wanted,” Ava whispers, closing her eyes.
You tuck her in, kiss her goodnight, and it's only when you find me in the hallway that you finally dissolve into tears. The emotion of the day has finally caught up with you, and you bury your face against my chest as I hold you tight. After a few minutes, you look up at me, and I smile, gently wiping your wet cheeks with the pads of my thumbs. Without a whisper between us, I take your hand and slowly lead you to our bedroom.
Your voice is soft as your eyes ghost over our room. “Everything’s the same.”
It is, because I couldn't bear to change a thing.
“I need to shower…badly,” you say with a shy grin.
“Okay.”
You stand and wait, wondering if I'm missing the invitation behind your words.
I'm missing nothing. I just refuse to make love to you against the tiled wall of the shower.
Not for our first time, anyway.
Maybe the second.
Or the third.
Or…
“Go shower,” I say, and I can hear the desperation in my voice.
You smile, and it assures me that you know I'm not rejecting you. I'm simply being patient.
Desperately patient . . . if there's even such a thing.
While you shower, I try to ignore the fact that you're naked behind the door. I try to forget that the soap is sliding down your body and that your hair is dripping with water.
I try.
I fail.
Hard.
And suddenly, I'm sixteen years old again.
I hear the hair dryer, and I know I have to get my hormones in check or this will be the quickest reunion in the history of mankind.
I think about fishing. I think about football. I think about baseball.
You walk back into the bedroom, and all of that thinking is replaced with one single thought.
You’re standing naked in our bedroom.
I try not to stare, but it’s impossible. You're too beautiful, and I haven't set eyes on you in far too long.
Suddenly, I'm nervous.
You sense my anxiety, because you walk over to me and start to unbutton my flannel shirt. You push it so that it falls down my shoulders and onto the floor. The t-shirt goes over my head, and I shudder when your fingers dance along my chest.
You step closer as your hand slides along my stomach, until it finally reaches the button of my jeans. Those, along with my underwear, quickly pool at my feet.
I take a deep breath. There is something very important that I have to say. The most important thing ever.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Your smile takes my breath away.
“I love you, too.”
I take your hand and lead you to our bed. You lie back against the stark white pillows and watch with hungry eyes as I climb over you. I lay at your side, and my own greedy eyes devour you as my finger blazes a trail from your eyebrow to your chin. You sigh softly as my hand rediscovers every curve, and it's at the point that my need finally consumes me. Your eyes flutter closed as my face drifts closer, and we sigh into each other's mouths as our lips finally meet.
Our mouths move—slow and gentle at first, until finally, it's not enough. You whimper and I groan as our lips part, and when your tongue finds mine, our bodies shudder in unison.
“Please,” you whisper urgently against my lips, and I swallow your pleas with another burning kiss as I cover your body with mine.
Chest to chest, we cling to each other, whispering how much we've missed this, how much we love each other, and how we'll never be separated again.
***
The morning is cold and crisp, but the bed is toasty warm with my girls nestled in my arms.
Ava knocked on our door around four this morning, and we weren't at all disappointed when she asked if she could sleep with us.
She needed to be close to you.
I understood completely.
We rise just after eight, and after breakfast, we zip our jackets and grab our skates.
There’s no question what we'll be doing today.
You made me vow not to teach her how to ice skate until you came home to stay, and I've kept that promise. With our daughter gripping each of our hands, we glide slowly across the pond. She only falls once, and when I announce that she's already a better skater than her mother, I'm punched on the arm.
And then I'm kissed.
By both my girls.
The sun peeks out from behind the clouds. It's not enough to heat the frigid December air, but warmth flows through me as we skate along the ice.
Our pond.
Our daughter.
And you.
Also by Sydney Logan<
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Lessons Learned
Mountain Charm
Soldier On
Pros & Cons
Songbird
Once Upon a December
Breathe Again
Listen to Your Heart
Halfway to Anywhere
Force of Nature
Stupid Cupid
About the Author
Sydney Logan writes heartfelt romances that feature strong women and the men who love them. In addition to her novels, she has also penned several short stories and is a contributor to Chicken Soup for the Soul. Sydney holds a Master’s degree in Elementary Education and spends her days surrounded by kids and books. A native of East Tennessee, she enjoys playing piano and relaxing on her porch with her wonderful husband and their very spoiled cat. Visit her online at www.sydneylogan.com.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Table of Contents
Copyright
Proceeds from this Book
Winter Song
Also by Sydney Logan
About the Author