Page 36

December

“ M erry Christmas!” Gunner squeals as he throws open our bedroom door on Christmas morning. Faint light peeks through the shades, meaning it’s still early.

“Merry Christmas, Champ,” Bennett says, his voice gravely from sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” I tell them, my eyes still heavy as I try to blink everything into focus.

Gunner runs up to Bennett’s side of the bed and asks, “Do you think Santa came?”

“I sure hope so. But we won’t know unless we go downstairs and find out. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and wake your sister up so Scar and I can get ready real quick,” Bennett suggests.

“Deal!” Gunner shoots out of the room and slams his bathroom door behind him.

“Gosh, I love his excitement on Christmas morning,” I murmur through a big yawn as I stretch out my arms and legs.

“It’ll be fun to get to experience our first Christmas together with just the four of us. Last night was also fun.” Bennett winks as he pulls me to his chest for a good morning kiss that’s over far too quickly for my liking .

“Last night was fun indeed,” I hum in agreement as I think back on what will likely be a core memory for me.

We started our Christmas Eve with spending time with his family for brunch, which was full of tension, and I was glad that was pretty swift.

We then spent the afternoon baking Christmas cookies at our house, where I invited his mom, Jax, and his sister Walker to join us.

Bennett looked relieved that his dad didn’t show up, and I can’t say I was upset by his absence.

Then Gunner and I snuggled up by the fireplace in our jammies while Gemma and Bennett played us Christmas carols on their guitars.

I’m a sucker for Bennett’s voice—the deep bass does all the things to me.

But I don’t think that’s what Bennett was referring to.

If I were a betting woman, I’d say he was referencing what he and I did after the kids went to bed.

The two of us stayed up wrapping presents, drinking hot toddies, and filling stockings.

That’s when I begged Bennett to give me a private concert, which turned me on so badly, I ended up giving him one of his gifts that I couldn’t give him when Gemma and Gunner were present.

I’m not sure I’ll ever forget the way his eyes widened before they became hooded with lust as he opened the bed restraint kit I got him.

My headboard may not have a hidden rail compartment, but it doesn’t mean our little night of bondage had to be a one-time thing.

I realized I quite like relinquishing full control to him.

Thankfully, after we tested out his present, we tucked the restraints back under the mattress so the kids wouldn’t see this morning.

I’m pulled from my memories of last night when Bennett leans over and whispers, “As much as I wish we could stay tangled up in bed together, we should probably get up before we miss them opening their presents.” With one last peck, he tosses the blankets off us and I rush to put on a pair of fuzzy socks.

I can’t help but chuckle at our ridiculous matching pajamas that Gunner insisted the four of us get.

I wasn’t expecting Bennett to go along with it, but he’s been so good with them—better than I could’ve ever imagined.

I’ve come to accept that that’s just who Bennett is—the all-in kind of guy, and being there for Gunner, Gemma, and me is no exception.

By the time I’m back in our bedroom, an excited Gunner is joined by a sleepy Gemma.

“Are you two ready to open presents?” Bennett asks them. They answer by flying down the steps and running into the living room where we set up the Christmas tree.

Gunner does a happy dance followed by a fist pump as he screams, “Yes! Santa came!”

Once they’ve opened their presents and the living room is littered with scraps of wrapping paper and gift boxes, Bennett’s gaze locks with mine from where he’s helping Gunner put batteries in his new remote control car.

My fiancé winks at me, and I just about melt on the spot.

Having Bennett here feels right . This is the happiest I’ve felt on a holiday since our parents passed away.

I’m so caught up in my feelings that I don’t notice Bennett has approached me. “We got a Christmas present for you, Little Red, but we’ll have to go upstairs in order for you to open it.”

I playfully swat at his chest as my cheeks heat. “Why wouldn’t you give me my present last night?” I ask him as my eyes widen.

His deep chuckle has my stomach pulling taut. “I promise, this present is G-rated. It’s from the three of us,” he explains.

“Oh.” My cheeks heat deeper from my incorrect assumption.

Bennett turns over his shoulder. “Gunner, Gems, do you guys want to show Scarlett her present now?”

“Yeah!” Gemma smiles at me as she and Gunner move past us up the steps. My brows knit in confusion when the three of them stand outside the door to Gunner’s craft room .

“This was all Bennett’s idea, but we helped set it up yesterday while you were getting ready,” Gemma informs me.

Gunner nods his head. “Yeah, I even held the screwdriver. But Bennett wouldn’t let me do the drill by myself,” he huffs, which earns him a laugh from me and Bennett.

Gunner swings the door open, and at first glance the room looks the same. That is, until I turn toward the large window and see an oversized, adjustable drawing table and chair.

“Now you have a place to work on your designs,” Bennett explains.

I gasp as I take in the sketch pads, pencils, and various art supplies in the drawers beneath the table. “Oh, you guys! I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” I turn to face them as tears threaten to spill onto my cheeks.

Gunner and Gemma close the distance between us as they wrap me in a big hug. I close my eyes as I absorb this moment and bask in their embrace.

“Come on, Benny.” Gunner waves him over.

“Yeah, you’re part of this family too,” Gemma declares.

I watch with rapt attention as Bennett wraps the three of us in a big hug.

This feels all too real, and I’m hit with the sudden realization that Gunner and Gemma will be devastated when the time comes for Bennett and I to part ways after this arrangement expires.

The gravity of that has a cloak of melancholy hanging over me.

How will I ever let this go—let him go—now that we’ve found our way back to each other?

But I don’t have long to sulk in my thoughts, because Bennett takes that moment to remind me of another present that needs to be opened when he slides it into the pocket of my pajama pants .

Clearing the emotion from my throat, I give them a smile I know doesn’t quite meet my eyes before I say, “Gems, there’s one other present we wanted to give you downstairs.”

She looks between us, but Bennett just shrugs, feigning ignorance.

When we get downstairs, I tell them to follow me as I make my way out to the attached garage. Bennett must’ve already opened the garage door, because when we go outside, natural light floods the space, highlighting Gemma’s gift.

Her piercing screams of surprise echo off the walls and concrete floor.

“Shut up! Are you for real right now?” Gemma asks as she runs over to her brand new SUV.

It’s a white Lincoln Corsair with black rims and red interior.

I was honestly tempted to get it for myself, but it wasn’t my sweet sixteen.

“Happy birthday, Gems, and Merry Christmas. I love you,” I tell her as she crashes into me for a hug.

“Scar, I can’t believe you got me a car! Ohmygod ! I love you so much. Have I told you you’re the best sister ever?”

I shake my head at her and pull her in for another quick hug, before pushing her toward the car so she can check it out. Her elation and joy are contagious, and when I sneak a glance over at Bennett, I find him grinning from ear to ear behind his phone as he records Gemma’s reaction.

Regardless of how this arrangement ends, I have a feeling he’d want to continue to play a role in their lives. The thought is both reassuring and unsettling. I just hope my heart can take it.

“What are you doing back there, Benny Boy?” I ask him later that night while we’re snuggled up in bed with my back pressed snug to his chest.

“Tracing your freckles.”

“You seem to like doing that before bed.”

“It calms me. Do you know you have forty-seven freckles on your left shoulder and thirty-six on the bridge of your nose? I count them in the mornings sometimes before you wake up. Is that weird? That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I answer honestly as butterflies erupt in my stomach.

“Good, because I’m quite obsessed with counting and tracing them.”

“Did you ever play the trace and guess game when you were younger?”

“Can’t say that I did,” he muses. “What is that?”

“So one person traces a pattern on the other person’s back and that person has to guess what the person was drawing. Gemma and I used to do categories, so sometimes we’d do numbers or letters or phrases or pictures.”

“Sounds fun. Let’s play.” Bennett’s tone is amused and I’ve come to love these little moments like this when it’s just the two of us pillow talking before bed.

“Okay, turn around and I’ll go first,” I tell him as he unwraps his arms from around my waist and turns over so his back is turned to me. “The first category is letters so you can get an idea of how to play.”

With the tip of my pointer finger, I trace the outline of an E across his back.

“Well that was easy, E ,” he guesses.

“Yep! You’re a natural. Okay, now I’ll turn around and you can give it a go. ”

Turning over to face away from him, I bring the down comforter up to my neck to cover the chill spreading across my skin from the winter air.

Bennett likes it arctic cold when he sleeps, so I’ve added two blankets to our bedding.

He says the lower the temp in the house, the more I’ll have to use his body heat for warmth.

Bennett begins tracing a letter on my back, starting with his finger just above my ass at the very bottom of my back. He traces his finger clockwise in a circle on my back and it takes me longer than necessary to register the letter he’s traced.

“What was that? Was that supposed to be an O ?”

He scoffs. “What do you mean ‘supposed to be’? It was obviously an O .”

“But you went clockwise. And you started at the bottom. For an O you start at the top and go counterclockwise,” I argue.

“No, you don’t. And who made you the handwriting police? There’s not a right way or wrong way to write a damn letter.”

“There most certainly is. You’re not allowed to do Gunner’s handwriting homework with him anymore if you write like that.”

His arms wrap around my waist and the deep rumble of his chuckle vibrates against my back. Bennett nuzzles his face into the curve of my neck before placing three delicate kisses over my pulse point. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“But you wouldn’t have me any other way; you and I both know you love my sass.”

“I do,” he simply states, giving my hip an assuring squeeze. “Alright, let’s see if you can get a phrase since you’re so good at this game.”

“Bring it on, Cap.”

He traces a big letter I across my back first and I guess correctly, obviously. Next, he writes a word across my shoulder blades that feels a lot like L-O-V-E , and when I guess correctly again, my breathing begins to shutter.

Bennett’s fingers pause as he places three more delicate kisses on the back of my shoulder.

He finishes his phrase by tracing a simple U across my back. Breath completely escapes me and my throat goes dry with his confession.

Did he mean to do that?

Pulling me against his chest, he rests his chin on my shoulder before he murmurs, “You don’t have to say it, Scar, but I do.” He takes a deep breath. “I—”

But I don’t give him the opportunity to voice his confession aloud. I turn in his arms and capture his lips in a kiss that pulls us both under, stopping our game and this discussion, and instead turning things into a passionate frenzy of lips, tongues, and skin on skin.

I’m not sure why giving myself to him wholly is so daunting.

Actually, I do. If I give myself to him physically, and only physically, I can’t lose another person I care for—someone I love.

Another piece of my fragile heart can’t be ripped from my chest. Though, I think Bennett has the capability to do far more than that.

If I allow myself to love him, only for fate to take him from me, I know it’d break not only my heart, but possibly shatter my soul entirely.