Page 40 of Held-

I turn back to the view, trying to ignore how the leather seems to warm me from the inside out.

“So was she…?” he asks, trailing off.

“If you mean, was she the mistress that finally broke apart our marriage? Yup, that’s her,” I confirm. “I can’t believe he brought her home for Christmas. He knew I was coming home.”

“That’s precisely why he did, sweetheart. To hurt you.”

“You think?” I ask, though I know he's right. The realization stings more than the cold air whipping across the overlook. Ethan brought her here specifically to hurt me. To show everyone in town he'd upgraded from his boring ex-wife to the blonde bombshell who'd been waiting in the wings.

“I know,” he sighs. “Men like that, they need to win. Need everyone to see them winning.”

I let out a shaky laugh that clouds in the night air. “Well, it worked. Until you nearly lifted him off the ground by his cashmere scarf.”

“Sorry about that,” he smiles, though he doesn't sound sorry at all. “I should've controlled myself better.”

“No. Don't apologize. It was...” I trail off, searching for the right word.

“Hot?” he supplies, that cocky smile playing at his lips.

“I was going to say satisfying.”

“Liar,” he teases, bumping his shoulder against mine. “But I'll take satisfying.”

We stand in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the twinkling lights below. In the distance, I can make out the soft glow emanating from the town square, growing brighter by the second. The giant Christmas tree must be lit now, the culmination of the festival I just abandoned.

“Look,” I mutter, pointing down at the sudden burst of light at the center of town. “They're lighting the tree.”

Even from up here, I can see the massive pine transform from a dark silhouette into a towering beacon of multicolored lights. For twenty-five years, I've watched that tree light up from the ground, surrounded by familiar faces and hot chocolate. Now I’m seeing it from above, as if I’ve stepped outside my own life for a moment.

“First time you've missed it?”

“Yeah,” I admit, surprised to find I'm not devastated. “But somehow, this view might be better.”

He turns to look at me then, his eyes reflecting the distant lights of the town below. Something shifts between us. A current in the air that makes my breath catch. His gaze drops to my mouth, and I feel myself swaying toward him like he's gravity and I'm helpless against the pull.

“Brayden,” I whisper, and it's both a question and an answer.

His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my skin with a tenderness that makes my heart ache. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, echoing his words from the night before.

This time, I have no desire to.

“Don't,” I say, my voice barely audible over the wind. “Don't stop.”

This time when his lips meet mine, there's no hesitation, no gentle introduction. He kisses me, pulling me closer until I'm pressed against the solid wall of his chest. I clutch at his shirt, suddenly grateful for the guardrail at my back because my knees have gone weak.

The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes heat pool low in my belly. I gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound, his free hand settling at my waist, fingers digging into my hip through the layers of his cut and my coat.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, clouds of vapor mingling between us in the cold air. His forehead rests against mine, and I can feel the steady rhythm of his heart matching my own.

“I've been wanting to do that again since yesterday,” he admits. “Haven't thought about much else.”

“Me neither,” I confess, surprising myself with my honesty.

His thumb traces my bottom lip, still sensitive from his kiss. “What are we doing, Cece?”

It's a loaded question—one I don't have an answer for. What are we doing? Crossing boundaries that shouldn't be crossed. But standing here with Brayden's taste still on my lips and his cut heavy on my shoulders, I can't bring myself to care.

“I don't know,” I answer honestly. “But I don't want to stop.”