

By Dee Ellis

**Snow Angel** by Dee Ellis

© 2017 by Dee Ellis. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.

Cover Design: Dee Ellis  
Interior Design: Dee Ellis  
Publisher: Hummingbird Press  
Printed in the U.S.A

# Chapter One

Kris

I love the snow. Most people loath it and prepare for it as if it's an apocalyptic event. As a boy growing up in Texas, I saw snow maybe once. After coming to the Midwest for college, where we get all four seasons in all their spring, autumn and summery glory, I still love winter the most. Perhaps because I love the holidays.

Most guys hate to shop, hate to think of other people first; we're raised to be selfish jerks. I could have ended up the same way, actually. I was given grand Christmases that held empty meanings. But now, I love the holiday despite that. Maybe even more due to that.

Santa may not be real, but the spirit of the holiday never changed for me. I love the whole shebang. The lights and the parades, the cheesy Christmas shows, and the bustle of holiday shoppers. In fact, I don't even mind the carolers. The first time I had a group of kids singing outside my door, I was in college. Now I look forward to the groups with their uneven voices and smiling faces.

Really just one smiling face in particular. _Emma._

Last Christmas her church group stood singing at my door for twenty minutes. I dumped almost two-hundred dollars into their donation bin and my eyes never left her face. Emma Snow is fucking perfection. An angel.

With creamy skin, whisky brown eyes, and glistening black hair that flows all the way to her perfect ass, she's more than perfection. I was absolutely blown away by the light in her beautiful eyes and the bright smile on her sexy lips.

I tried to catch her before they left but that donation plate was in my face and she giggled when I dropped my entire stack of cash inside it. _That fucking laugh_. Jesus Christ, it haunted me for weeks.

Then I heard it again. In my hallway. By my hallway, I don't just mean the hallway of the condo I live in. It's in fact, my condo. With six apartments it's the first thing I did with my money. It is in the center of town, close to the shops, the college, and the building itself is superb.

I don't run the day to day, of course. That's my only excuse for not realizing that the most perfect woman I have ever seen not only rents one of my apartments, but also lives on my floor.

The night I heard her giggle, I was in the midst of writing. Or, well, trying to write. I graduated with an English degree that as of then had yet to prove its worth. A writer with no voice. During college, I had no problem writing for assignments, and the work was well received. Writing creatively for fun—that was a different story. Literally.

That fucking giggle had me excited and hard as a rock. I had nearly torn my door from its hinges in an attempt to catch her. Just to find her plump ass in my face as she bent to pick up the groceries she had scattered all over the floor. I rushed to help; puzzled that she had more than one of almost everything. Emma smiled up at me as I crouched to help.

" _I'm clumsy as shit!"_ Emma had introduced herself as we gathered her groceries, both of us on our knees.

Which did nothing to chase away the throbbing in my dick. I watched her fuss with her groceries, stuffing everything into the canvas totes she carried it all in. Then our hands tangled as we both reached for a package of salmon. I could never forget. _Salmon_. The charge that shot through me as her tiny fingers pressed into my skin nearly set me on my ass.

Emma felt it too.

I know because I saw her creamy skin flush and the pulse at her neck leap. Fuck, I wanted to shove her thick hair out of my way and suck at that pulse. Feel it throb and jump as I touched the sweetness between her legs. I moved towards her without recognizing it. We were still on our knees, Emma tucked between mine, and I was fucking mesmerized.

I could feel the swell of her perfect breasts against my chest. The thin sweater she wore—pink with silver snowflakes, how could I forget that—did nothing to conceal her pebbled nipples. My hand came up, skimming down the line of her throat. Jesus Christ, she was as soft as satin. My cock leapt to life, and I realized I was angling over her, my eyes on her full, bee-stung lips. I was going to kiss her.

Except, I didn't.

Because the elevator behind us opened. It seemed so loud in the quiet. We had been silent, just our heartbeats and heavy breathing filling the hall. Emma let out a little noise and I growled at the intrusion because I needed to taste her. Those lips, that slender neck and the nipples that were hard and aching to be teased. All of her.

" _Thanks, Kris."_

She knew me!

The moment passed when a few girls who were clearly her friends joined us in the hall. I barely made it into my place before my hand was around my dick. I came seconds later, her giggle filling my head and her name on my lips.

I come often when I remember those first moments. Or the many she's given me over the last eleven months. Moments in the hallway. In the elevator. I know what she smells like and how soft her skin is because I touch her whenever I can. I use any excuse I can to reach out to her; to help her with groceries, chat in the hall, even press close on the elevator.

I am fucking _obsessed_ with Emma Snow.

I know she's a photographer who works for the local paper. I also know she isn't close to her family, who live in Chicago. I sense definite tension whenever I ask about them. Because, I _always ask_.

I ask her all sorts of things. What music she likes, the type of movies she enjoys, and who she likes to read. I know she's single. I watched the men that came and went for dates like a fucking creep. Those dates stopped long ago—a fact that pleases me.

Emma is going to be mine.

Since I met her, I have been writing like mad. The woman gives me inspiration. I hadn't finished a single piece before that first encounter in the hall. Now, I've completed four books and published two since. I am crazy about her and, _I think_ , she knows it. I think she maybe even feels the same. I just haven't had the guts to find out yet.

It's almost Christmas again. Almost a year of falling in love with the most perfect woman I've ever met. Without ever kissing her, holding her, or knowing how she feels beneath me with me buried deep inside her.

There is no way I can make it through another holiday without having her. Emma loves Christmas. We've been talking about decorating the entire condo for weeks. She wants lights and garlands everywhere and _I want_ to give her whatever _she wants_. Already the hallway smells of her baking, most of which she takes when she volunteers at the church soup kitchen. The woman is a Goddamn saint.

It's why I haven't told her how I feel. Not sure she could want me once she knows everything. I look and live like a single guy with no cares and no strings. It's how I choose to live, but it's not exactly my truth.

Back home—not that its _home_ since I haven't been back in almost six years—an empire waits for me to take the reins. I don't want it. I want no part of the greedy, dirty oil business my family has built. Fortunately for me, my younger brother, Nate, absolutely does. We're both just biding our time until he can take over.

Until then, I work from the same office I write my books from. Books that are not at all what my family wants me to be writing. I never had a genre in mind but somehow, I'd fit myself into one. I write steamy, syrupy sweet romance novels that somehow climbed to the top of the heap. Staring at the blinking cursor of my current work in progress, I smirk.

This has been my work-in-progress for almost five months. It stars a very sexy, sweet, and perfect young woman who takes photos for a living. The woman falls for her dashing neighbor, who's mysterious and romantic and would give her anything. She, of course, is Emma. And he? Well, obviously, that's me.

" _Anything you want. I'll give it to you, E. Anything." Our hero promised as he knelt before the Goddess in front of him._

" _I just want you, K. Only you. Love me. Always."_

Yuck. Pathetic. I groan and slam my laptop shut and leap to my feet. I hear the elevator ding and my heart stills before it pounds. I slide my ratty hoodie off and shove my feet into my boots. Pausing by the mirror, I run a hand through my sandy hair and straighten my glasses.

"Ask her to a movie. Ask her to marry you. Ask her to dinner. Ask her to let you eat her for dinner. Just _ask her_ , you pussy!" I whisper-shout at my reflection.

Throwing my door open, I fumble for a moment in the doorway. I want to appear nonchalant, which is impossible. I hear her voice, can smell her in the hallway and I react. I always react. My dick begins to thicken, my heart stutters, and my mouth goes dry.

"No. Don't count on it, mother. Goodbye. Kris!" Emma calls as she throws her long waves over her shoulder, her brow furrowed as she swipes at her phone.

"Hey, good looking. What's cooking tonight?" It's lame, but it's become our running joke since that first night.

"Mmm, hey handsome. Pies! For the meal we're serving tomorrow! How's writing?" she asks as she lets her bags slip from her arms and I scoop them up.

"It's coming," I watch her ass sway as she breezes past my place, heading for hers, "How's _reading_ my books going?"

Fuck, I love the idea of her reading my stuff. My last piece had at least a dozen of our own moments sprinkled in. Everything I fantasized about her, I turn into sweet and sexy moments in my stories.

"I love the first one! It's so sweet. Is it your way of telling me I can hold out hope for a guy like the ones you write?" she teases as her eyes sparkle up at me.

"Of course, there is. There's someone waiting for you, Emma. Maybe someone you already know," I cut myself off before I venture into creepy.

"Oh yeah?" she calls back as she spins to face me, my eyes shooting up from her plump ass.

"Absolutely, good looking. No doubt in my mind, you have someone waiting for you."

We reach her door and she leans against the doorframe. Emma is not petite, with enough curves on her to leave a priest aching for her. The swell of her tits looks amazing in the bright, sparkly sweaters she wears. That plump ass of hers kills me in the tight jeans and little skirts she wears. It's all sweet and makes her look younger than twenty-five.

Yes, she is all woman. With the face of a fucking angel and the heart of a saint. Proof positive in her pie making comment. Fuck, now I am thinking about her body and her _pie_. And not the sweet ones she's about to bake. No, I am thinking about the sweet pie between her legs that I can't wait to get a taste of.

"Let me help," I want to grab the words from the air right before her beautiful face lights up.

"Yeah?" she says, pressing closer.

There's no way I can den her when she asks something of me. I would give her anything—any fucking thing she could ever want.

"Absolutely, good looking. Put me to work."

My insides explode with nerves as I wait.

Emma presses closer still and I watch her mouth. Watch it open a little as her tits crush against my chest. My eyes flutter as her sweet sugary scent—sugar cookies and warm vanilla—fills my lungs. Before I know it, I am pinning her to the door as the sexiest smile I have ever seen curves her full mouth. Fuck, I want to taste that succulent mouth.

"Kris...." she says my name in such a way I know she wants the same thing.

Her voice is needy and my cock feels it like a shot of desire has been injected into my bloodstream. She is breathing hard, her chest pumping against mine, brushing those tits and those perky, pebbled nipples against my t-shirt. _Jesus, I want her._ Just as I lower my head, watching her whisky eyes, her door gives way under our weight and we stumble into her apartment.

Not how I would write a first kiss between my heroes.

# Chapter Two

Kris

"Kris," Emma moans as I press against her, "I... can't breathe..." she giggles, tossing her head back as I shove up on my hands to lift away.

Now she is pinned beneath me with the groceries spilled all around us. My hips settled against hers and she gasps. _Fuck._ She felt my cock. It's hard as shit and throbbing. Nestled in between her thighs and fuck if that doesn't feel like coming home. Then she wiggles. Fucking wiggles beneath me. I groan as her sex rubs against me, hot and... wet? _Shit._

She smirks up at me, her pussy wet between her legs. _Because of me? Because of this shit that feels like electricity zapping between us?_ I take a deep breath to calm myself. Bad idea. I can smell her sweet scent, but now something more. _Need._ Her sex is hungry and fuck if I don't want to feed her my cock.

"Kris," she moans, throwing her arms above her head, "what do... oh. _Oh_."

I should move off her since that is the proper thing to do.

I don't. I press into her, letting her feel what she's done to me. What she _always does_ to me. Her tits look soft in her sweater, except for the nipples that I want to wrap my lips around. Her center is hot and even through her tights, I feel how wet she is. My cock jerks as I dip closer to her.

My face presses into her neck and she gasps. Immediately her hands tangle in my hair. Her hips buck and I groan. My hands shove beneath her ass, my fingers digging in, as my hips rock against her.

"Oh," I growl a grunt at the feel of her.

"Kris..." she whimpers as her hands yank hard, bringing my eyes down to hers.

"Let's make some pie, good looking. After," I press my nose to her jaw, my lips at her ear, "I think it's time we talk about how bad I want _your pie_ , Emma."

Her body rocks against mine and we both let out sounds of need. I shove up over her but don't move away. I almost can't. The feel of her softness beneath me is almost too much. Too perfect.

But then she smiles; as if she too can't wait to talk about pie that has nothing to do with baking. I lean down and touch my nose to hers, and for a moment, we breathe the same air.

Then we untangle and I take her hands to lift her to her feet. Despite the mess at our feet, I tug her against my chest. Fuck, it feels good to touch her like this at last. My hand lifts to shove at some of her silky hair, tangling the curls between my fingers.

"Let's make pie," she giggles and I feel it all over, all at once.

For the briefest moment, it gets awkward. While we pick up all the ingredients for the pies, tension fills the air. Until her eyes met mine as we're crouched shoving things into bags. She laughs again and my face splits in a smile. When she stands, I follow her to the kitchen. Unable to help myself, I give a swat at her round ass, and she yelps.

"Behave or no pie for you _after_."

I shoot her a look, and she squeals, booking it down the hall into her kitchen. Fuck, I am so crazy about her. I give chase and catch up fast although I let her think she has a chance for a minute.

When I reach the kitchen, she is laughing again. I dump the bags onto her island and then pin her into a corner by the stove. We're breathing hard but she's flushed and fucking beautiful, and Jesus Christ, she is so perfect.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Emma Snow." I've never told her that, though I compliment her plenty.

"Kris..."

My hands go to her waist as her eyes fall away shyly. "Look at me, Em."

Her hair curtains into her face, and I lean forward, nudging it away with my nose.

"Yes, Nichols?" she taunts me playfully as I smile against her jaw.

"Mmm, I love it when you get mouthy. Look at me," I demand gently, leaning away to catch her eyes, "You are.... breathtaking. The first time that I saw you, caroling like a fucking angel on my doorstep, I have never seen anything so beautiful. And I know I never will, either." Again, she flushes and in the soft light of the kitchen, I appreciate it more.

"No... no. I'm... you know... I'm... thick." Emma's eyes fly to mine as I growl, my hands slipping back to her very thick ass and squeezing.

"In all the right places, fuck yes you are, baby." Her sexy mouth falls open, and she lets out a soft sound.

"Kris... you don't... I mean I know I'm not.... you know..." I grip handfuls of her ass and haul her against me.

"You are the sexiest fucking thing I have ever seen. How I haven't pinned you to the wall of that elevator, or dragged you into my place, cave man style, and sunk inside you, I have no idea. Don't you... don't you see what you do to me? How you make me feel?" Pie making can wait, it seems.

"No. Do I," Her head falls back against a cabinet as my hips shove my hardness against her, "is it because of me?" Her voice holds wonderment and I almost laugh.

"Oh, baby. Fuck, yes it's because of you. Every fucking thing that has happened to my dick since I met you is because of you. This too," I take her hand from the counter where it hangs on tight, pressing it to my chest, "You make me feel shit I didn't know was real. I didn't know hearing you laugh or seeing you smile could make me feel like it does. I feel everything, Emma." Though she's the star of my dirtiest fantasies, most of which I've written into that novel starring us both, it's more.

"Kris...." Emma takes our laced hands from where my heart thunders beneath my chest and moves them.

Her soft, sexy whisky eyes peer up at me under her lashes. Pressing them, still woven together, over her breast where her heart thunders, she closes her eyes. My breath catches. Vision goes foggy. I can only hear the clock ticking and her breathing. But not mine. Because I stop breathing.

Emma feels it too. Really feels the same thing I do.

"Baby." I rasp before she moves, startling us both, I think.

Her fingers clutch at mine but her other hand moves, hooking around my neck. Emma tugs at my hair, lifting up against me as she pushes close. Again, we're breathing the same air and it is sweet and hot and fucking perfect. Her mouth is on mine and I am never going to be the same.

It's not sweet and gentle, not at first. It's her mouth taking mine as if she is as hungry to taste me as I have been to taste her. Her tongue is against my lips before it tangles with mine and my hands yank her roughly against me. Everything I ever thought about kissing—it was all fucking wrong.

I feel everything for the first time in her kiss. The press of her lips, of her full tits, of her heat against my thickness, and the weight of her ass in my hands. I'm hooked the moment I taste her and feel her in my arms. Suddenly, I feel alert and alive, with all my senses firing at once, almost to the point of overload. It is the single most satisfying feeling I have ever felt, and I know I won't ever get enough of it.

"Kris," she murmurs against my mouth when she lets us breathe, "You taste exactly like I thought you would."

Well, if my cock was alert before _that_ takes it somewhere new.

"You taste even better, baby."

The endearment doesn't feel weird or forced, and her eyes sparkle every time I say it. I intend to say it as often as I can to see that look in her eyes.

"I... so... the um... pies?" she says with a shy laugh; my heart feels as if that sound wraps tight around it and refuses to let go.

"Pies, good looking. But first...."

I lower my head and take her mouth once more. Several moments later, I have to gently push away or we are not getting a single pie made. Her face is beautifully rosy and her eyes look almost golden. She makes a show of putting on an apron and even hands me one. I slap her ass again after she ties hers on which makes her flush and smile sexy at me.

I can definitely get used to being like this.

For a while, I just watch while she does her thing. I stay close beside her, touching her whenever I can. Because now, I just can. I don't know what those kisses mean for her. I know what they mean for me; Emma is _mine._ End of discussion.

Except I know we have to have a discussion.

"You're so fucking cute," I laugh as she begins mixing her pie dough, flour puffing into clouds in the air.

"Hmm, trying to flatter me so you get out of the hard work, Nichols? Nope. You will get your hands dirty with my pies," she says and then she goes still, her eyes going wide, as I laugh out loud and crowd behind her.

"Mmm, baby I intend to do lots of things with your pie. Getting my hands dirty is definitely on the list."

I'm behind her as she stands at the mixer with my arms caging her in. She lets her head fall back against my chest, her hands pausing from mixing ingredients. I tilt my head to bury it in her neck, my hands moving all at once. One shifts up to cup her breasts, finding her nipples straining against her apron. The other shoves over her front, cupping her pussy through her argyle printed leggings.

"Kris..." she moans as her hips buck to my hand and her hands drop to wrap around my wrist.

"Just proving I have no problem getting dirty, baby," I murmur against the velvety skin of her neck.

As I slide my hand between her legs, I realize two things. First and most important—my angel _is soaked_. The thin cotton of her leggings—something she wears often and I thank God for—let me feel just how hot she is. For me. For this. Second, as angelic as my girl looks, her bare pussy tells me how naughty she really is.

_No panties._ Not even the lacy thong I imagined covering her pink little pussy.

"Emma," I growl as I cup her bare sex in my hand, "are you not wearing panties?"

"N—no. I... I never wear panties," she moans, the sound making my dick leap in my jeans. Oh, shit.

"Never?" I whisper as my nose moves down her jaw, my fingers moving lazily against her heat.

"No. No. I never do," she responds throatily and I vibrate with the need to touch her. To take what's mine and waiting to be claimed.

"Oh, baby. That both pleases me and pisses me the fuck off. Spread your legs a little," Her knees fall open and pride washes over me, "Good girl. I want to do something. Do you want me to stop? Tell me yes if you do."

I give her an out. The last out she's going to get from me, possibly ever. She shifts back against me as her hips rock against my hand. I sink my teeth into her neck and she gasps. My fingers slip over her lips, spreading her open and she moans. Despite the fabric, I feel her clit hard and throbbing. I want to see her come--I want to see her come for _me_.

"Oh God!" she moans as her head bows to watch my fingers rub slowly.

"Mmm, that's right baby. This is mine," I suckle at her neck, my other fingers flicking at her nipple, "Do you hear me? This perfect little pussy is mine now."

"Please, yes! I'm... what are you doing to me? Oh God.... yes!" she pants as I rub and circle her clit until her entire body tightens as I drive her to the edge.

"Oh fuck. You coming for me? Fuck, yes, Em. Come for me baby," I demand as she twists in my arms, her hips rocking as she buries her face into my neck.

Emma moans long and loud as my fingers circle and rub, and she does just as I ask. I can smell her honey in the air and nothing has ever smelled so fucking sweet. My hips rock as if aware a hot, wet pussy is waiting for my cock to sink into it. That, however, will not be tonight.

"Kris. Kris! Oh... yes." She goes languid in my arms, and I bring her close to press a kiss to her damp temple.

We're quiet for a moment as still I rub at her soaked pussy. I bring my fingers, coated in her cum, to my mouth and suck them inside. She whimpers and her teeth scrape against my neck and I growl. I twirl her to face me, hoisting her up atop the counter.

"Keep it up, baby. Do you want pies made tonight? Or do you want me to show you how fucking bad I want to devour the pie between your legs?"

Emma tilts her head as if she has to seriously think about it.

Fuck, I love her.

I love her enough that those pies are getting made. Her pie belongs to me and I can taste it just as soon as I keep my promise to get my hands dirty.

# Chapter Three

Kris

We make pies until I am almost good at it. Emma laughs and tells me stories and lets me kiss her whenever I want to. How we get anything done, as often as I want to taste that mouth of hers, I have no idea. We do though; before it gets too late, we have almost thirty pies ready for her to take to the shelter she volunteers at.

As I said, the woman is a Saint.

I tell her more about my family, without the bombshell about what we do. I explain that like her, we aren't especially close. Since moving to Crystal Cove to escape their expectations, I've never gone back. I have no intentions on going back either, especially since I have Emma.

Nate and I have some papers to sign in a few months, but after that I am home free. Meeting Emma has made this place feel like home. Like _she_ is supposed to be my home. Making those pies with her, kissing her, and laughing with her sure as shit feels like coming home to something.

I could push for more. I could try talking her into letting me take her down the hall to her bedroom. Tell her I want to truly make her mine. I don't. Because even if that's all I fucking want—it really isn't. I want more than that—I want it all with Emma.

I kiss her goodnight at her door like a gentleman, both of us dotted with flour, and her lips tasting like the best dessert ever. I can tell she wants me to stay. When she lingers at her door, and I linger at mine, I can see it in her face. Fuck, I want to march the ten feet back to her place and fuck her all night with both of us still covered in dough and sugar and cherry filling.

Instead, I promise us both it's more. I kiss her lips, her nose, and her forehead, as I promise it is _everything_. Once again, my door barely closes before I have my dick in my hand and I come with her taste still on my lips. I still taste how sweet her pussy was and I can't wait for more.

But, I _will_ wait.

Because there is still plenty for us to discuss. Emma has to know about my family and I want to know about hers. It's the one thing we barely talk about. I know we have our own reasons, and before that was fine. Not now.

Not when I intend to make Emma my family.

Today, I finalize plans to head back home in a week or two. It will fall just after the holidays; that was intentional. I plan to spend the holiday with Emma. Tell her how I feel about her and make this thing real. Since last night, I haven't been able to think of anything else. Especially since it seems, neither can she.

Emma: _Tree goes up at six tonight. Be there or be square._

Me: _I will be there, baby. What are you doing now?_

Emma: _Shooting something for a piece I'm working on. I uh... I think I might miss you._

Me: _Oh, do you, now? Makes sense since I miss you. I am trying to write, but somehow my characters keep ending up in the kitchen. Kissing and making very, very dirty pies._

Emma: _You're naughty. Santa skips naughty boys, Kris._

Me: _Angel, I got exactly what I wanted for Christmas. Santa can skip me for a while._

Emma _: Is that so?_

Me: _It is. I mean, if you want, you can wrap yourself up in a bow, so at least I have something to open._

Emma: _I maybe... already have something for you._

Me: _I don't need anything else. I do have something for you though._

My eyes fall to the printed manuscript I just finished this afternoon. It's _our_ story. Right up to the end I hope we have come Christmas day. I plan to get it matted before it gets wrapped and set underneath the tree we are decorating tonight.

Emma: _Six, tonight. Miss me till then._

Me: _I always do, good looking._

After making a stop at the printers, where I spend twenty minutes picking the right paper and a ridiculous bow, her gift is ready. On the way back home, I stop at _Mistletoed,_ the year-round holiday store on Main Street. With a little help from the sweet owner who still believes in Christmas miracles and lives for purchases like the one I'm looking for, I walk out whistling jingle bells.

I'm knocking on Emma's door at five-forty-five, unable to wait a second longer. In my hand, I hold the beautifully wrapped tree topper I picked up earlier, the box shaking a little. I'm nervous. Things are different, of that I am sure. Different the way I want them to be, though? I can't wait to find out.

Emma opens the door and her face lights up. I feel the beaming smile she gives me as if it's a touch at my skin. I take one step towards her and suddenly she's against me and her mouth is on mine. I hook the arm not hiding her gift behind my back around her and lift her against me.

Stepping inside, I kick the door shut without ever breaking the kiss. Fuck, she tastes sugary sweet and her body is so soft against mine. Her legs lasso around my hips as her fingers weave in my hair, mussing it.

"Told you I missed you," She teases when she comes up for air.

"Fuck, I love your laugh, baby. If I'm greeted like this every time you miss me, I can get used to missing you, huh?" A nip of her teeth at my bottom lip has us both laughing.

"Negatory, handsome. Mmm, you taste good though. Like whisky and cinnamon. More, please."

I oblige without hesitation.

We make out on the couch like a couple of teenagers and I love every second. Every grind of her hips against mine, her pussy rocking against my dick. Each swipe of her tongue at my lips, nip of her teeth at my neck, my ear. I love the feel of her tits against my chest and her ass in my hands.

But, I made her a promise and I'm keeping it. Sometime later, she notices the wrapped box I set on her wide leather ottoman. I have her pinned to her leather couch, one leg hiked up high on my hip. We are shoving at clothes as our touches grow more daring when she spots it and her face lights up.

"Hmm, oh... Kris... what's that?" her chin lifts towards it so I nip at her jaw, sucking at her sweet skin.

"A present. _For you._ You can open it in a minute, baby," I promise as I slide my hands beneath her sweater to fill my hands with her tits, both of us letting out a groan.

"Oh. Oh, yes... a present? Mmm, oh!" she pants as my thumbs flick at her nipples, but her words cut through the fog.

"Yes, Angel. Do you want to open it?" Still my hands caress her bare skin, because apparently, she never wears a bra either.

"I love presents," her voice goes soft and so do her eyes.

"I shall remember that, good looking. Come here," I urge, pressing closer to cup her beautiful face in my hands.

For a long moment, I hold her gaze, willing her to see the emotions I know I can't hide anymore. Her eyes go even softer as she presses closer. I kiss her gently, lifting her into my lap and letting her twist to press her back to my chest.

"It's not... I mean _exactly_ for you. But it is," I explain as she reaches for the big square box and she nestles close again.

I hold her as she very carefully tears open the shiny gold and red wrapping paper. It's almost too pretty to open and she seems to love that I took care with it. My arms close around her waist as I bring her closer to watch her face as she opens up the gold box.

"Kris. Oh, my. It's absolutely... it's _beautiful_!"

Gently she lifts it out as a shaky a hand covers her mouth.

I know how much she loves the holidays; Christmas is very special to her. I intend this to be our first—but certainly not our last—Christmas together. I hope my gift shows her that. It's a Christopher Radko tiered tree topper. I matched the lovely design to the colors I know she uses on her tree. She runs her fingers over the glittery glass globes, shaking her head.

"Do you like it? Did I get the colors right?"

I hold my breath and watching her face as she nods again. Still she doesn't speak, her fingers tracing the intricate poinsettia designs. I bury my face in her neck, breathing in her sweet scent, as I give a squeeze at her waist. She sets the topper in its box as she twists on my lap.

"It's absolutely beautiful. I love it... I love it _so much_. It's so perfect."

"Yeah? Well, thank me however you see fit. Then let's get that tree up, Angel," I tease before she crushes me to her, cutting me off before I can finish.

Many moments later we are digging out ornaments and lights and I love it. Even though I do love the holidays, Emma makes me love it more. Seeing the look on her face as we hang the ornaments and hearing her stories behind each of them means so much.

It really means so much more than I had ever expected.

When we have nothing but the topper left, we stand back and admire it. It's fucking beautiful. Gold and red ornaments and bright twinkling lights light up her entire place. The fireplace roars beside it and it looks like a scene from a romantic holiday movie. She holds the topper in her hands, peering up at the tree with such a beautiful look on her face, my heart seizes.

Shifting behind her, I hold her close and kiss her temple. Our fingers both wind around the glass topper to hold it for a moment. It is the most poignant moment I've ever shared with someone in my entire life. I hold her tight before lifting her up, laughing as she squeals. Carefully she sets the topper just so.

"Perfect, baby. Look at it," I whisper as my nose tingles and my eyes flutter with emotion.

"It is perfect, now."

It really is. Everything is perfect _now_.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," I murmur as she stands in front of the fire and tree, looking like a fucking angel. As if she belongs on top of that tree.

"You are. Look how handsome you look," she says, a hand coming out to nudge my glasses, trace my face and smooth over my lips.

That does it.

I scoop her up and she laughs and I fucking love it; and I love her. Underneath the glowing tree she is so magnificent, I am breath taken. I pin her beneath me and take her mouth as my hands tear at her clothes. Her hands are busy too and we both hiss in pleasure as her naked skin presses to mine.

"I want you so bad. You look so perfect like this. Every inch of you is fucking perfect," I say as I kneel between her legs to I gaze down at her naked body. It's true; she is perfection and I am in awe.

"Kris, touch me again. Like... like you did before. No one else... I've never felt like the way you make me feel," Her voice is little and shy and as her eyes dart away I read what she is not saying.

"When I make you mine," It's not up for discussion, Emma _will_ be mine, "Will I be the only man who's had you?" The flushing of her skin gives me my answer.

"Yes. I just never... I never wanted anyone like this. Not enough to let them have me," her answer sends pleasure unlike anything I've felt before, carnal and powerful, pounding through me.

"Oh baby. My Angel. Look at me," Those warm eyes meet mine, glistening in the flicker of the fire and tree lights, "You want me to have you?" When her head nods without hesitation, I growl.

"Yes. Yes!" she moans as she arches towards me as I bend to her.

"Emma. I want you so bad," My voice is husky and shaky as I repeat myself, "I have... for so long, I've wanted you. I'm going to show you how much, baby. Lie back for me, Angel," I command and her skin pinks as she spreads out beneath the tree.

For a moment, I just admire her. The curves of her hips, the thickness of her thighs, and the freckles at her face and shoulders. The fullness of her breasts, the rosy nipples that pucker and tighten as I stare down at her. Lastly, the slit that now is pink and wet and makes my mouth water.

"Spread your legs for me, baby."

Again, she obeys.

My cock wakes up and she gasps as she notices.

"Not tonight, Angel. That little pussy is so pretty. Tonight is about you. Will you do everything I ask of you?" Her head nods and I groan, loving how willing she is.

Just briefly, I stroke my cock and smirk as she watches with wide eyes. She wants to touch me but I don't think I can handle that yet. Leaning over her and letting my cock slide against her pussy, I pin her arms above her head. She hisses out, her hips bucking, and I almost lose it. I almost sink inside her and take her.

"Behave, Angel. Keep those legs spread. Let me look at you."

Still stroking myself, I lift on my knees and move away, hating the loss of her softness immediately. She whimpers too and I love it. For long moments, I gaze at her in the flickering lights, stroking my cock and not letting either of us touch the other.

"Kris..." I nearly shudder at the need in her voice when she moans my name.

"I know what you want, Angel. You want me to make you come. You need it. I can smell how hot you are for me. You're so wet for me right now, aren't you, baby?" Still, I stroke my length and don't touch her.

"Yes. Yes," she breathes before she tosses her head back, letting out a sound that has my dick twitching.

"Mmm, you smell so good. I want to taste your honey, baby. Open your eyes and watch me. Eyes on me while I eat your pussy."

She cries out as I slide down between her legs, shoving her thighs open. Without any more prelude, I dive in. I suck her soaked pussy into my mouth, groaning at the perfection of her taste. Sweet and tangy and like a trigger for every sense in my body. My cock swells between us, my pulse thunders in my ears, and emotions I had no idea could be tied to sex overwhelm me.

"Oh shit. Oh.... yes!" In the entire time I've known her, she has never once cursed.

"Tell me, baby. Tell me how good I make you feel. How bad you want to come on my tongue," as I speak, my fingers dig into her thick thighs, spreading her wider.

"Oh God.... yes, it's so good. Oh, fuck. Please, baby. Make me come on your tongue. Make me yours."

Shit, now she's obeying like a good girl and my cock pulses.

"That's it, baby. Tell me you belong to me. Tell me you know this is mine. That _you_ are fucking _mine,_ " humming against her between licks, I glance up to see her head bobbing as she whimpers.

"Yes. Yes. God. I'm yours. I'm... I'm... oh fuck! I'm..."

I pump faster, suckling hard as she comes long and loud me for me. As I wring her orgasm out of her, I murmur softly against her swollen folds.

"Mine. You're all mine, Emma. _All mine_ , Angel."

# Chapter Four

Kris

We lay by the fire for a long time holding one another tight. She nestles against my chest, kissing over my thundering heart, so I draw her closer. I've never felt so close to someone else in my entire life. There is no doubt that this is more than an infatuation I let build over the past year.

I love her. I truly, deeply, madly love her.

When I cradle her against me and carry her to her bedroom, I am burning with emotions. The need to finally take her as mine isn't even the forefront. It is there though. When I lay her down and she clutches at me, it becomes nearly overpowering. She refuses to let me go and I can't deny her.

"Stay. Please. Don't go." I am powerless to do anything but obey.

Both of us slide beneath the cool duvet and sheets, Emma curling against me and holding tight. We haven't confirmed what this all means, and I know that moment is coming and soon. Right now, it's about us letting one another feel this thing that has built for so long.

"I don't want you to go. Ever," her sleepy voices mumbles and emotion burns my throat and pricks at my eyes.

I am terrified of the truths we've still not shared changing that declaration. She doesn't know about my family and the fortune I'm tied to. I also don't know everything I need to about her family. I hope none of it can change this. Because fuck, I want this.

When I wake in the middle of the night with her still clutching me tightly, I feel like I could weep. I am out of sorts until she burrows her face into my neck and rubs her body against me. Just like that, I know where I am and know it's right where I belong.

I don't ever want to go, either.

"Rise and shine, handsome," her voice is soft and warm against my ear and I feel her softness all around me.

"I am having the best dream ever. Don't wake me," I tease without opening my eyes and her soft giggle has me crushing her to me.

"I like waking up next to you," she hums as her body rubs against mine and I become aware of two things.

One, it's bright and sunny out and my girl is clearly a morning person. Two, we are naked, and I obviously like waking up next to her, if my throbbing cock is any giveaway. She presses against me, shifting her body over mine, her hips shimmying tauntingly. My fingers dig into her plump ass as I groan, feeling her heat rubbing against my cock.

"Behave, Angel. I promise to be a gentleman... oh fuck," I grunt as my eyes fly open to find her straddling me with her hands wrapped around my cock.

"Hush. Lie back and let me, Kris. Please."

No way can I deny that. Fuck, she is beautiful and sexy and all mine.

"Emma..."

"Shh..." she hushes me so I just lie back and let her have her way with me.

As I watch she pumps my cock with her soft, tiny hands, my hips rocking up. Unable to deny myself, my own hands shift up to cup her tits and she moans as I tug and rub at the nipples. Flushing pink down her neck and over her full tits, she rocks her hips too, grinding against me. I groan as she aims my dick between her thighs.

"Oh shit... baby what are you..." I groan before she covers my mouth with hers and takes control.

I kiss her back, tongue and teeth and heat as she moans into my mouth. Suddenly she breaks away, watching me with hunger in her eyes as she rolls her hips. Her pussy is hot and wet as she rubs it against my cock again and again. One hand is still wrapped around the base as her other one tangles in my hair.

"I want to make you come. You're so sexy," she watches as my dick slides between her slippery folds, "I want to watch you come all over me. Come all over my pussy. Mark me as yours."

"Oh fuck. Don't stop. Your little pussy is so hot and wet. That's it, make me come. Fuck, yes," I lift to watch too, growling her name over and over as she bounces faster and harder.

I feel my orgasm creep up on me, and I slam my mouth over hers. Pulling her hips down, I do just as she asked. I come all over her pussy, spurt after spurt of hot stickiness marking her as mine. I can't see or breathe for a few moments. I realize she's shuddering against me with her own orgasm and I just watch.

"Oh Kris. Oh God!" she shouts before her honey spreads over my cock and thighs, and I am hard again just watching her come.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful when you come, baby. So fucking sexy. Come all over me too. I'm yours whether you mark me or not but fuck, it feels good when you come for me," I exclaim as I slide a hand between her thighs, shoving two fingers inside her as she spasms against me.

"Oh... yes... I'm coming again. Oh, God, Kris!" she shouts as she comes for me again.

Sometime later she tells me she has to volunteer today and take the pies we made. I am reluctant to let her go, but love how dedicated she is. In the shower I talk her into sharing, I learn every curve of her body as she lets me wash her. I make her come again, my fingers pumping her tightness until she screams my name in echo.

"Let me come with," I offer later as I watch her dress.

"You would want to?" she stops pulling a sweater dress over her head to tip it in question.

"Of course. I did help with the pies. I'd like some credit for them," I am teasing, of course, and the laugh she gives me fills my chest with love.

Two hours later, I'm standing beside her, serving potatoes and gravy to the less fortunate while she cuts slices of her pie. I watch her with adoration as she chats with most of them as if they're old friends. There's no question or judgment in her beautiful eyes as she feeds them and asks about their lives.

A fucking saint, I tell you.

As the day wears on she introduces me to some of her favorites, as she calls them. A single mother of three with adorable ginger kids. A young runaway who looks tough but is really sweet and smart. A haggard old man who wears his years on his face, but smiles at her like she's the sun.

"You are fucking amazing," I murmur to her between filling plates with much more food than I am told to.

"How so?" she wonders as she pushes at an errant strand of the hair she has piled atop her head.

"You love this. Because you love them. You're the most giving, gentle person I have ever known, Emma Snow."

I press a chaste kiss at her cheek and squeeze her hand. She watches me back with a sparkle in her eyes that make my chest swell. She asks me to join her to eat with her very favorite people, another young mother and her two twin toddlers. All three of them are beautifully broken.

My eyes are open wide as I sit with them and listen to their tale. An abusive husband kicked the mother and her children off her own land, forcing them onto the streets. By day the mother, Daisy, works odd jobs, and sends her kids to daycare she can't afford, but by night they land in the Churches shelter.

Of course, my angel's eyes glitter with tears as she sits across from the woman and holds her hand. I know we can't save all of these people, not really. But this strong woman who wants to do better for her kids, I can help. Before they head back up where Emma cuts more pie for second helpings, I tug her aside.

I press a phone number and a name into her hand and I tell her to call right after she fills up their bellies. Daisy hugs me tight as she sobs. I scoop her little babies up and tell them it's going to be okay. Because it is.

"What was that all about?" Emma asks as she watches them head through the food line once more.

"A second chance. You're good with people, Emma. They trust you and tell you things that allow you to help them somehow. That's special. It's beautiful, and _you_ are so fucking beautiful and I... I..." I nearly tell her I love her.

It's not the right place nor the right time.

Emma seems aware I almost said something heavy. For the rest of the night, she is especially attentive. More than once as we gather more pies, she leads me into an alcove in the kitchen and we don't emerge for several moments. When I run to the kitchen for more potatoes, she follows after.

Her hands shove at my slacks and suddenly my dick is in her hand, and I know we're being terrible but I can't bring myself to care. She kisses me as if she's starved for me as she works my cock. We're in a church, serving the needy, but it seems we're awfully needy ourselves.

Hidden away in the shadows, Emma makes me come in her hands. And my angel shocks the shit out of me by licking her fingers and whimpering as she savors my taste.

"Fuck, Angel. You trying to send me right to hell? Keep that up, I'm fucking you on the church kitchen table, baby."

Emma just giggles that sweet, sexy giggle and makes a show of lifting herself atop the table. Just as I advance on her, my dick hardening as she spreads her legs, we're interrupted. Thankfully, Father Elliot doesn't ask what the hell we are up to. How I make it the rest of the night, with her touching me every chance she gets and whispering filthy shit in my ear, I have no idea.

Perhaps I'm the saint.

"What do you think we taste like together?" she purrs just as we are stowing away what little food remains.

"Oh, baby, you're going to find out. Right after I punish you for being a naughty little Angel all day," I swat her ass and she lets out a soft little moan, her eyes lighting up.

_Oh, shit._ My little angel has a lot of devil in her.

We rush to help clean up and I bid a fond farewell to Father Elliot, promising to come back with Emma again. As much as I can, in fact. It's done me good to do for others. I also make a mental note to donate to any charity she deems worthy.

I hail a cab in the light snow, drawing Emma to my front as I press my aching cock against her. It's cold so I clutch her to me as my hands roam over her softness, knowing it's all bare beneath her sweater dress. As I open the cab door for her and she bends to get in, I see it.

Her slit is pink and bare and so drenched it glistens in the darkness.

Shoving in after her, I pin her to the door and take her mouth. My hand shoves between her thighs and spreads them wide. She moans into my mouth and my cock twitches with need. I _need_ to be inside her.

"I need you tonight, Angel," I murmur against her ear as I spread her swollen lips.

"Yes. Tonight, please," she gasps as I slide two fingers inside her.

On the short cab ride home I strum her pussy slow and deep. I pump my wrist beneath her skirt as I watch her come apart for me. Her teeth bite at her full bottom lip, but she still whimpers, her chest pumping as she struggles on the edge. I don't want her to hold on to that edge. I want to push her right the fuck over.

"Look at me. Don't worry about where we are. Or who's here. It's just you and me right now. Give me what's mine now. Show me what I do to you," I order her as my thumb rubs fast, hard circles at her clit and her back arches away from the cracked leather seats.

"Oh God," Her eyes dart to the front where the cabbie is oblivious, his Christmas music blaring, "I want to come apart the minute you touch me." Manly pride tears through me as I lower my mouth to hers.

"So do it. Do it for me; come for me. Right here and _right now_." My fingers pump as she tightens, her fingers clawing at my bicep.

Emma tips her head back as a line of curses hiss past her sexy mouth. I claim that mouth, quieting her and swallowing her pleasure. Fuck, that feels good. To feel her come apart beneath me. Nothing has ever felt so good or made me feel so connected to someone.

We roll to a stop just as I suck her cum from my fingers, smirking devilishly at her. Emma glows from her orgasm but she turns pinker and I laugh because she's gorgeous.

On the elevator, Emma's all over me and once we stumble off, we just make it to my door. Barely inside the apartment, Emma is naked and on her knees before I even close the door.

Jesus, my angel really is a devil.

# Chapter Five

Kris

"Emma, baby...." Emma tugs at my pants so I have no choice but to kick my shoes off.

"I want to taste you. You aren't the only one who gets to please, baby. Let me."

How can I deny that sweat plea?

Before I can even try, she has her hands wrapped around my cock and her tongue is swirling around the head. My head falls back against the door behind with a thud. Fuck, her tongue feels like sin stroking my throbbing cock. Both her hands cup me, one the base and the other my balls, as I tunnel my fingers through her thick hair.

"You're so fucking beautiful on your knees, baby," I moan and the filthy smirk she aims up at me makes me shudder.

As if she isn't the innocent angel I know her to be, she takes me inside her mouth. My fingers fist in her hair as she begins taking me slow and deep, suckling with her lips and stroking with her tongue.

"Oh... my fuck."

Watching her please me, seeing the wild hunger in her eyes, has me hard as steel. Those hands of hers work too, stroking and teasing and I know I won't last long. I stroked my dick right here with thoughts of her just like this so many times. I can't believe it's real now. That she's here, so desperate to please me.

Emma gets the perfect rhythm going, her head bobbing and the sounds of her sucking at me filling the room. I grip her hair tight, pistoning my hips, the head hitting the back of her throat. A hand falls away from me and when I realize what she's doing with it, I lose it.

"My naughty Angel. Make yourself come with me, baby. I'm so close, baby. I can't wait. Touch yourself, baby. Fuck, that is so goddamn hot. Are you really all mine?" I ask and she nods her head as her moans vibrate around my dick and drive me to the edge.

"I want it. I want it," she murmurs as I try to tug her away.

"Fuck, yeah. Take it, my filthy angel, take me. Come with me, baby," I roar as I pump my hips and I spill down her throat.

Emma moans and swallows it all, one hand still rubbing furiously at her clit. My hips rock my length into her mouth and she sucks down every drop. Fucking dirty little angel. I'm hard again as I watch her pump my cum into her mouth as she works to make herself come too.

Gently, I shove her away, hooking my arms beneath her thighs and hoisting her up high. Spinning, I pin her high against the door and dive in between her legs. She screams and within seconds of my feasting at her throbbing pussy, she comes hard. Her fingers clutch at my shoulders as her hips grind against my face. I lick every drop up, just as she did with me.

"You taste so good. Come here. You wanted to taste us both," I remind her as I shove my honey-soaked tongue into her mouth.

The moan she gives me as our flavors mix nearly has me on my knees. Clutching her to me, I carry her down the hall to my bedroom and drop her atop the bed. I shove her knees open wide and cover her slit with my mouth, smiling as she screams out and bucks beneath me.

"I love your sounds, Angel. Turns me on to know I make you go so crazy." I bite at her soft thighs and she gives me something between a yelp and a moan.

I feast on her for a few moments, tracing the slick heat that belongs to me now. Then I spin her on her stomach and tug her up on her knees. I dive back in, licking her slow and lazy. She shoves her ass back, and I have to swat her naughty hand away from her clit.

"Bad girl. Your pleasure is mine right now, baby. Only I give it to you. Trust me, I'll make you feel so good," I promise with another swat at her ass.

Emma glances back at with a sultry grin that makes my pulse race. Falling onto her front, she offers herself up and I take it. I eat at her until she comes twice more, my fingers pumping at both her virgin sweet spots. When I lick and suck at her puckered ass, she goes mad.

"Please, Kris. Please... I need to feel you inside me, baby."

Of course, I won't deny anything my Angel asks of me. "I'm going to be so good to you, baby," I cup her face, gazing down at her adoringly, "You won't ever want anyone else inside you again." The very idea of someone else touching her has me moving fast.

After rolling to pin her beneath me, I nudge my cock up and down between her swollen pussy, growling that she's mine. My hands and mouth work at her full tits, sucking and biting the buds into stiff peaks. I mark her with bites at the soft curves there, the curve between her thighs, her neck, and anywhere else I can.

Watching her eyes, I angle my hips to press to her center. She catches her breath as her eyes close tight. I go still until she opens them again, wanting to watch her as I claim her. I need to see the look in her eyes. Need her to see the look in mine.

One thrust and I am deep inside her and we are one.

"Oh. Oh... it's... yesssss," she cries as I press deep.

"Oh, Angel. It's fucking beautiful. You feel so perfect. Goddamn, I need a minute."

I settle balls deep in her tight core and it's like nothing else. Blood rushes to my head and I can't focus on anything for a few moments. It's bliss, more perfect than I could have written or even fantasized. I start to move and we both cried out because it's that good.

"Please. More. More," her voice is raspy and sexy and I fucking love it.

Emma's fingers clutch at my shoulders as her heels dig into my ass, urging me to speed up. I don't want it to go too fast but fuck, she feels so good. I've been with just two women before her so I didn't know it could be like this. But I've written about this feeling. My heroes always know their woman is it once they take them the first time.

I didn't know you could really feel like that though.

I do, in this moment. I feel connected so deeply to her, I know I'll never want anything else. No one else. Nothing but this feeling of being deep inside her and watching her pleasure build beneath me. I begin to move faster, harder, deeper, and she welcomes it. Begs for more.

"It's so good. You feel so good inside me. Don't stop. Please don't ever stop," she pleads as I thrust again and again, deeper and harder.

"I won't. I'll never stop making you mine. You feel so good wrapped around me. Like fucking heaven...you are my heaven."

Our fingers lace as I pin her arms above her head. For what feels like hours, I sink inside her again and again. Far longer than I thought I could manage, considering how long I've waited to feel her beneath me. She comes twice more, shuddering and calling my name out. Soon, I feel my own orgasm burning through my veins but I don't want to finish.

Emma does something that drives me over the edge. As I pound into her hard and fast, telling her how crazy she makes me, how good she feels, she stills me. Just a touch of her little hand to my face forces my focus back on her. The look in her beautiful eyes and the emotions evident on her face drive me right over.

"Come with me again. Once more."

I pick up my pace, a hand dropping between us to rub at her clit until I feel her tighten. We watch each other as we come together hard. It is exactly what heaven must feel like, I am sure of it. I collapse against her, spilling deep inside her.

We hadn't even bothered with questions about protection, and I don't care. I'd be lucky if I got her pregnant and she gave me little versions of her. In fact, the idea has my cock stirring inside her again.

Emma trembles beneath me, clutching me to her with her limbs. I kiss every damp inch of her perfect, creamy skin. Rolling so she's cradled to my chest, I just exist in the intensity of the moment with her. Combing my fingers lazily through her thick hair, I kiss the top of her head and whisper _"I love you, Emma"._

Sometime later, I wake and find her gone. Panic floods me as I shove at the twisted sheets and shoot to my feet. I step into the front room and almost fall to my knees and ask her to marry me. Emma is cooking something that smells delicious. _Naked._ Naked _and singing_ Christmas songs as she cooks us a meal.

"I think I might have found my future wife, Emma Snow," I call out, laughing when she drops her wooden spoon.

"Oh yeah, Mr. Nichols? Well come help your wife then, handsome. I made your favorite. After, we have work to do."

I move behind her, shoving her thick hair out of my way to press kisses over her neck and shoulder. "Always making me work for it, huh? What do we have to do tonight, good looking?" My hands are busy filling themselves with the weight of her soft tits, squeezing and caressing.

"Mmm, I do believe you're missing something, handsome. I love your hands. Every time you touch me, it feels like every part of me wakes up."

My fingers shove between her legs, finding her sticky and warm, both of us moaning. I shove the food off the burners and make a meal of her sweet pussy first.

After, I let her feed me what is, in fact, my favorite meal. Emma's pot roast; it is the best thing I ever put in my mouth. Besides her, of course. She used to leave meals at my door all the time; by now I know she cooks whenever she is feeling things, so those meals mean that much more.

The missing thing she had mentioned is a tree of my own. We make quick work of hitting the tree lot down the street. We stop at Mistletoed to stock up on some more festive décor and then spend another night trimming another tree and then the halls just as I promised her.

We make love beneath my tree. I decide as I watch her in the shimmering lights I'll never go another Christmas without making love to her just like this. Lying beneath that lovely tree, watching her beautiful face lit by the twinkling lights, I know I really have found my wife, even if I joked about it earlier.

"Why did you kiss me?" I ask sometime late into the night after a round of her riding me like a goddess.

"Because you taste good," she teases as she snuggles close, careless we're both sticky and sweaty.

"I mean... that first night. I wanted to kiss you so many times, Emma. The first night in the hallway...." I laugh at the memory and she snuggles closer.

"Because I couldn't _not_ kiss you anymore. I wanted you to kiss me that first night we met. I'd never felt that before. I can still remember how I felt standing on your doorstep, watching you as I sang carols last year. Like it was just you and I, and I had found something I was missing."

"You felt the same way? I didn't see anyone else, or even hear them. Just you. I saw you in the hallway and realized you were close enough that I might have a second chance. But you were so special; I didn't know how to get close enough." I think back on the many months we've gotten to know each other, wondering if it was meant to be this way.

If I had acted on my impulse, I would have taken her to my bed that first night in the hallway. Instead, I have grown closer to her every single day. Learned about her nervous hiccups and the way she squints her eyes when she knows I am feeding her a line. I know how much she loves the winter and holidays, and how much she loves to cook.

Emma knows more about me than anyone else. Except the big truth. Which could cost me her once she learns it. Knowing her the way I do, I think maybe she can see past that and recognize who I really am; at least, I hope she can.

Because I can't lose her now that I have her.

Thoughts of losing her flood me with panic. I lift her to the couch and devour her sweetness for what feels like hours. I drive into her for the rest of the night. I refuse to let her out of my arms. I take her again and again, telling her how much I need her, showing her with the desperation in my lovemaking.

I spend my first weekend with her trying to convince her it won't be our last. I wake Monday morning with her gone. Somehow, I know she isn't naked in my kitchen, fixing us food to fuel us for another day of lovemaking and hiding away.

I fear I might have had my last moment in heaven with Emma as my perfectly dirty angel.

# Chapter Six

KRIS

I write all day, finishing up a fifth book and even starting a sixth. The wrapped book I'd written for Emma stares back at me. The big bow made me feel silly and I thought that perhaps it is a mistake to give it to her now. Especially after I wait at her doorway for almost twenty minutes after waking up without her.

I knock and wait. Then I knock again and listen for sounds of her. But, nothing.

I text her to tell her I want her back at my place. That I miss her and that I'm not letting her get away so easily. By mid-morning, I stop texting because they go unread. My heart aches every time I check to see them still unopened.

I speak to my editor and publisher and then spend most of my afternoon coordinating things with my family. I will head back after the New Year to get things moving with Nate taking my place. In the meantime, even though my heart feels as if it's literally cracking in half, I have work to do.

After negotiating a few deals that would make my father proud and funneling money into a few local charities, most of the day has passed. I knock at Emma's door twice more. I'm desperate to talk to her but feel as if she has slipped through my fingers.

By the time the sun sets and a light snow begins to fall, I am a mess. I order food in for dinner—both afraid to run in to her in the hall or leave and miss her. When the knock sounds at my door, I throw it open with my wallet in hand surprised my food arrived so quickly. It is not food. Well, not exactly.

Emma stands on my doorstep.

Just like the first night I came to her place and this whole thing started, she moves first. She is in my arms and kissing me, crawling up my body before I can ask questions. And, I have questions, but they can wait. My door slams behind her as I tear at her leggings. I love them, but shit, they make getting her naked hard.

"I told you you're mine, Emma," I grit out as I rip them off, shove at my sweats and rub my cock at her wetness.

"Yes, I am. I know I am. Please. I need you, Kris."

I am deep inside her, fucking her hard and fast against my door. We don't even stop when my food finally does arrive. I pound into her ruthlessly, one hand tight around her throat, the other slapping her ass.

She whimpers and writhes against me, clawing at my back and biting at my shoulders. I make her come on my cock twice before I empty my seed deep inside her, both of us shuddering from the intensity of it all.

I slide to the floor, still deep inside her, kissing her savagely. She bites at my lips and yanks at my hair, whispering apologies. Before I know it, she's riding me, my cock hard and thick inside her again. Shoving at my shoulders, she watches me with heavy eyes as she fucks me fast and hard.

"I'm crazy about you, Kris. I always have been. You scare the shit out of me though. I want you so bad. You're all I think about now. I don't think I'll ever get enough. Is that normal? Is it supposed to feel so fucking good?" she wonders as she bounces on my dick, tossing her head back and palming her tits.

"It's supposed to feel like this, _for us_. I don't think we'll ever get enough, normal or not, baby. Fuck, you scared the shit out of me. Take whatever you need. Take it all."

"You're mine, too. You like to say I'm yours. But you're mine too, Kris. Come inside me. Deep inside me. Please, I need to feel you letting go inside me. I love it. I love it," she whimpers as she fucks me harder, grinding against my cock.

"I love it too. I love to feel that tight little pussy milking my cock. Because you never want to let me go. Greedy for my cock. Fuck, I'm coming," I shout as I grip her hips and slam her down on my lap, forcing her to take my seed.

Still rocking against me, my fingers rubbing fast and hard at her clit, she cries out and falls against me. I cradle her close as I carry her down the hall to shower us both off. Dinner is forgotten, our clothes left littered on the floor; we don't care about any it.

I clean her slowly, not missing an inch of her skin with my soapy hands. I rinse her off just as leisurely. I drop down in front of her, dragging one thick thigh over my shoulders. I watch her while I taste her honey again, loving how beautiful it is when she falls apart for me.

We dress in silence, Emma rubbing her naked wetness against me between lingering kisses. I tug one of my shirts over her head, kissing her lazily as she ties the drawstring on my sweats. It is consuming and confusing but at the same time, it feels so fucking comfortable. Familiar.

She snatches the food I ordered from the hall, sitting on my lap to feed us both. It's just a sandwich and chips but it tastes positively decadent with her feeding it to me. I watch her face, hold her close, and promise myself I'll never let her go again.

And, finally, we talk.

I tell her that I've been falling for her from that very first night she showed up on my doorstep singing. How I hoped this would be our first Christmas together. I insist even if she hadn't asked me to make pies with her, we would have ended up here. Because I was done waiting to start this thing between us.

She explains that she's never been serious with anyone. Growing up sheltered allowed her no freedom until she broke away to come here. And when she came here, she found me—the last thing she wanted was to be tethered to someone else. Too bad for her, it seems it's too late for that. We're tethered to one another whether we're ready for it or not.

"Staying away from you," Emma whispers as we cuddle on the couch, "It was the most painful thing I've ever done. For just _hours_. How could I ever walk away from you if it was so hard for just a few hours?"

At the very idea, I close my arms tighter around her. "It killed me to think you might not come back to me. Having you all weekend was like some kind of nirvana. I can't lose you, Emma. I can't."

We talk for a long time between kisses and touches that satisfy us both. I finally tell her about my family and what they do. I half expect her to shut down and push me away. Instead she holds me tighter as she tells me about her own family. How she never wants to go back, but like me, sometimes has little choice.

"I actually...uh... I need to go back next week. For the holidays. I'm expected," she stammers to explain as I frown.

Well, that just _will not_ do.

"No. You are spending Christmas here. With me. It's going to be our first Christmas together, Emma. You're not going anywhere," I argue.

"Kris... I already made plans before... I mean before us," her face lights up when she says _"Us"_ and shit, if that doesn't feel good. It also strengthens my resolve.

"No. I'm expected home for Christmas every year too. I haven't gone in two years. Because I wanted to be close to you. Now..." I sigh as she snuggles closer and makes a soft, contended sigh.

"I won't go if you really don't want me to. I'd love to stay in Crystal Cove for Christmas. With you. I got you an awesome gift too." Her head pops up on my chest and the smile she wears lights my heart on fire.

"You, Emma Snow, are my gift; you're all I wanted. I got to unwrap you early and everything."

As my hands unwrap her again, she laughs and pretends to mind. When she sinks down my length and throws her head back, I know she doesn't. It is slow and deep and so fucking perfect; I almost don't see the flicker of emotions in her eyes. Or the glittering of her tears.

I bring her close and thrust up into her slow and deep as I whisper promises to her lips. I don't say the words because I can't. _I feel them_. I give them to her other ways. When we come together, I am sure she is saying them back.

After another shower, she tells we have more work to do tonight. I don't even mind because I know where we're going. It's Christmas dinner down at the church with Father Elliot handing out gifts to the kids. I go happily because I have a family to check up on.

"Doing for others, it looks good on you, handsome," she says with a smirk as she bumps me with her hip as I serve potatoes and stuffing.

"Can't tell you how good it looks on you, good looking. We are, after all, in a church," I taunt as discreetly I swat her backside, watching her eyes darken.

"Indeed we are, handsome," her sultry voice makes my cock ache as she gives me that look and gnaws at her bottom lip.

"Keep looking at me like that, Angel, I might forget it's a church."

Another swat at her backside and she lets out a soft moan that has my dick stirring. The woman seems determined to make me sin today. Between charming the people in line and serving ham and turkey, she's up to no good. Rubbing her body against mine, her dainty hand brushing against my dick, her full tits pressing against me. Giggling that fucking giggle whenever I tell her to behave as her beautiful eyes dance with mischief.

The devil in my angel is in charge today, it seems.

We make it through the first round of dinner, waiting until the last person has a full plate of food before we step away. I find the nearest spot and duck inside, dragging her with me. It happens to be a huge sleigh complete with reindeer and a big red bag overflowing with presents.

Santa is going to have to wait for his ride in it.

"My Angel likes to be dirty. Maybe I need to teach you how to behave," I say as I sink into the plush seat, bending her over my lap and flipping her skirt up.

"Yes! Show me how to be good for you, baby."

If my cock wasn't throbbing before, her filthy worlds have me aching. I cover her mouth with one hand and land a swift belt on her ass with the other.

Emma jerks and moans, arching her back to offer her ass up for more. I give it to her, striking twice more, leaving a pink handprint on her creamy skin. Precum wets the front of my pants so I make quick work of slipping my dick out.

"First," two fingers plunge inside her bare pussy and she moans, biting at my hand, "you start covering what's mine, yeah? Unless I tell you I want you bare," I say as I pump my fingers, the slick sound of her wetness turning me on until it hurts.

"Two, you don't get to give this to anyone else. This is mine," I smooth my hand over her ass then smack it again, "No one else gets to taste your sweet pussy or smell how hot you get." Again, my fingers spread her open, her ass in the air, pumping at her slippery heat.

She nods and whimpers, her hands bracing on the edge of the sleigh. I love to watch her obey me. I never felt the need to dominate anyone the way I do her. I watch her face go soft with pleasure as my strokes pick up. Until just as she crests her orgasm, they stop. She whines, pushing her ass up, her pussy bare and glistening pink.

"Three, you get to come only when I say so. On your knees, baby," I demand as carnal pleasure pounds through me when she instantly obeys.

A lift of my hips and her whisky eyes light up, her hands guiding me to her mouth. My fingers tangle in her thick hair, and I let her swallow me deep for a few moments. Like a good girl, she sucks and swirls her tongue until I almost come. I do not intend to waste it.

"Four, there's never anything between us," I lift her onto my lap and with no warning I bury myself deep inside her, " _Fuck_. I need to feel you bare, baby. Always. Need to feel you tight around me, dragging me deeper into your pussy, needing me," I growl before I grab both her elbows gently in my hands and bend her towards me.

I take her mouth and all the sounds she gives me as I drive up into her. It is fast and intense and so fucking hot; I didn't know it could even be like this. I slam her down on my lap once more as we both cry out with our release.

"Five. I'm _never_ fucking letting you go."

Snuggling into me, she sighs in contentment at my rules. After righting our clothes, as well as the presents we made a mess of during our tryst, we head back to repent for our sins. Just before we make it to the main hall, Emma flips her skirt up, flashing her cherry red ass.

"Six," she smirks at me over her shoulder, "I think I might need more lessons, baby."

Damn, I love that devilish little angel of mine.

# Chapter Seven

Kris

We have five perfect days until I once again think it's all over.

It's the best week of my life—until it isn't. Emma makes dinner for us every night—on top of baking cookies, cakes, and more goodies than my waistline has room for. I try to make time for writing, but my mind is focused on the finished book sitting beneath my tree.

The story of us that ends with a hell of a cliffhanger.

Emma doesn't seem to be taking any photography jobs, but I don't ask questions. It means more time together, which I can never get enough of. Between baking and wrapping presents for the other tenants—each of who, it turns out, my angel is close with—all we do is each other.

There isn't a room left—in either of our apartments—that I haven't made her mine in. For two days, she sits with a wince because apparently, she really _does_ like her lessons. Of course, I devour her pussy for hours every night to make up for it.

I fall more in love with her every single day. We watch cheesy Christmas specials and cuddle in pajamas and talk. And talk. _And talk_. By the weekend before Christmas, I am positive there is nothing I don't know about my girl.

Except, there is so much I don't know.

The day I realize this, she is baking gingerbread cookies. They're for Daisy's kids who want to decorate them for Santa. A fucking saint, my girl. Busy writing on my laptop, I barely notice it at first. Until I feel like it's all I can see. Her laptop sits open on the coffee table, the gingerbread recipe still up on the screen.

I am engrossed in my new work—a story about a sexy Santa and a naughty elf that my angel wholeheartedly approves of—but I still see it. A notification pops up on her screen. If not for the bright yellow of it, I might not have known what is. When I realize it's exactly what it looks like, a rock settles in my stomach and I have no desire to write another word.

Because, what the fuck do I know about love?

Apparently, not a damn thing. Because that yellow reminder proves this past week was nothing but a waste of time. Emma is leaving. Instead of spending our first Christmas together, _as she promised_ , she's going home. Back to Chicago. According to this glaring reminder she's leaving early tomorrow morning.

Clearly, she means to sneak away from me, once again.

For several moments the gamut of emotions I feel is vast. Panic and pain, anger, frustration, and all of them mix with a heavy dose of betrayal. Because, the next pop up is from a man named Evan; it might be nothing, I try to tell myself. Until I see he is responding to her previous message about coming home soon.

Emma: _Can't wait to see you. I miss you._

Evan: _I miss you, sweet face. Love you. Christmas will be so special this year._

Not only does it shatter my heart, because clearly she's lying to one of us, but it pisses me off. Mostly because it feels intentional. As if it's her cowardly way of letting me find out. I close my laptop and gather my things quietly. I join her in the kitchen and wait for her to notice me.

"I made enough little men to... baby, what's wrong?" she gasps when she sees me, dropping the pan of cookies, little gingerbread men scattering the counter.

"This is a new recipe?" my voice sounds thick and my nose tingles with tears I am ashamed to feel stinging my eyes.

"Yes, I never made them before. But... tell me what's wrong. You look..." she trails off when I let out a noise, turning my face.

"I saw your recipe and your train confirmation. For tomorrow."

Emma goes white, her perfect pink mouth falling open.

Fuck, why does she have to be so goddamned beautiful? I start to back away, my heart breaking into pieces like the crumbles of her gingerbread men. Quickly she follows but I put a hand out.

"Kris, no you don't... it's not...."

I shake my head and let out a sad laugh. "It's fine. I uh... I need to go." I can't look at her, not just because the tears in my eyes, but because I love her.

Despite the betrayal I love her so fucking much it literally hurts.

"Kris, please. Wait... I need to explain!"

"No. No, you don't. Tell _Evan_ ," I spit the name over my shoulder, "I hope he has a very merry fucking Christmas with you!"

I slam out of her place and into mine before I crumble. My poor laptop becomes a projectile and it lodges in the drywall across the room. I groan when I realize I hadn't backed up my work. I don't really fucking care.

I am broken. Absolutely broken and fuck it hurts.

I'm not proud of how far I truly fall that night. I do all the shit I insist the women in my stories do. I cry over her. I drink. I go over the past week and tear it apart. Wondering if every moment was nothing but lies. And then I cry some more. I even indulge in some unhealthy eating.

I also retaliate. As best I can without truly hurting her, of course. All this mean is I decide to ruin the perfect Christmas we planned. I make my own plans to head home. I guess I'll get those papers signed earlier than I expected.

I pack without much focus; in fact if you asked me later what I'd packed, I wouldn't have a clue. I take a few sleeping pills—I suffer from insomnia on my best nights. Trying to sleep with my heart cracking to pieces in my chest—with the woman who caused it down the hall—would be impossible.

I am passed out before I hear the knock at my door.

It's barely daylight when I drag my ass out of bed to get ready to leave. I'm not looking forward to going home but I have to get away from her. From her sweet smell, that fucking giggle, and her pretending right in front of my face.

Coffee does nothing to wake me. Then I spill it all over when I open my door and stumble over a box at my feet. I know by how it's wrapped that it's from Emma. My name loops in her handwriting across a tag hanging off the top. It's not large, but it's heavy and I dart a look around for signs of her.

The hall glitters with the tree we set up at the end and the blinking lights I let her talk me into draping in garland around our doors. I can smell vanilla and cinnamon and just the faintest hint of _her_. It hits me like a punch to the gut and I almost trip over the gift again.

Picking up the box, I set it inside and close the door. I can't open it now. I don't want it. I have a plane to catch and a woman to forget. As impossible as I know that task is going to be.

Two hours later, I sit in the terminal.

The plane I should have been on left almost an hour ago. I _was_ going to board it; at least I _thought_ I was. Until they called for boarding and I just couldn't do it. I could not just leave without hearing Emma out. Without knowing why she had done this. Or really, _what_ she had done.

During the cab ride back home I chance checking my phone. It was off as a petty way to avoid her if she reached out. Almost immediately, it pings with messages and missed calls. Nearly a dozen from my angel, all the way up to a few moments before I left the condo. There are also several calls and a voice message from a number I don't know.

"Morning, handsome. You don't know me, but honey, I know you. This is Evan. Call me back, I _might_ have your Christmas wish."

Instead of heading home, I head towards the train station. Once I get there, I step out into the flurries that coat the streets and return the call. I have a few words for this _Evan_ dick. First one being his dick is no longer getting anywhere near my girl. Emma _is mine_.

"This is Kris Nichols... you told me to call and I just want to say..."

"Handsome! I am so glad you called before it's too late. Our girl is pacing the platform waiting to come home to me. Neither of us really want that, do we?" the voice that greets me is soft, bubbling with a humor that confuses the shit out of me.

"Emma is not coming home to you. Because her home is with me, now!" I roar into the phone, afraid I might in fact snap it in half.

"Oh, I like you, honey. You, Nichols, are absolutely fucking right. You keep our girl there. Emma doesn't belong here anymore; I agree that she belongs with you. Of course, I don't know all the details. She's tried to keep you a secret; but, our girl is fucking terrible at keeping secrets."

"I... I don't understand. Please... fuck, please make me understand."

Evan does exactly that. I am an absolute fucking idiot. Emma _does not_ want to go home; that was not a lie. Until we got together, her family has been demanding she come home. Evan, her dearest and sweetest friend—who happens to bat for the other team and double checked that I'm serious about our girl—has tried to tell her to stay put for weeks.

Apparently, she told him weeks ago she hopes to spend Christmas with someone special. He says she kept who that _someone special_ is a secret, but to him she seems girl in love. With me. A detail he figured out last night when I jumped to conclusions. Emma called him last night hysterical—his words not mine—blaming him for ruining her Christmas.

"I was heading to Crystal Cove to surprise Emma. And, to force her to tell you she's been panting over you for a year. I suppose I can see how my message might look... _suspicious_ , but it was innocent and now she is devastated. Now that you know the truth, go find her, handsome. I want all details later!" We laugh and I realize I'm breathing right again, the pain in my chest nearly gone.

"Oh, details I can do, Evan. Thank you. You don't know what she means to me. I don't want to lose her," I sigh as I shove through the bustling crowd headed towards the platform.

"I think I do, Nichols. I think I really do."

It takes me almost twenty minutes to find her. Finally, I spot my girl. My fucking angel. He is right; she is pacing anxiously and she looks miserable. It should hurt me, and of course it does a little, but it also fills me with joy. With love. With hope.

I can't let her board that train to Chicago. She belongs here, with me, for Christmas. Quickly, I cut through the crowd and snatch her around the waist. Twisting her to me, I dip her and kiss her deeply, without a word spoken between us. Just like all those cheesy, romantic, perfect, holiday movies I know she loves.

Once we break apart, we hear the crowd give us a round of applause. She is flushed and beautiful and the moment is perfect. For a beat, I don't know what to say or, how to make it right. Until suddenly, I do.

"Emma, I am so sorry. I had no right to assume the things I did. I was terrified of losing you; I just got you. I've wanted you for so long and I just..."

I don't need to say anything else. True to my little devilish angel's ways, Emma throws herself at me. As her arms wind around my neck and she presses against me, I lift her close.

"You belong here, Emma. With me. In this tiny town. You're my home now and I want to be yours," as I finish, I realize we're both crying.

"I didn't want to go, Kris. I didn't... they didn't give me a choice. My family is..." I shake my head and hush her, kissing all over her beautiful, tear-stained face.

"I am your family now, Angel. No one else comes first. Just like no one else will come first for me. You getting on that train, baby?" I tip my head towards it, but never look away from her face.

Emma hesitates and I think she might still break my heart. Her eyes well up, but she's smiling. Bright and so goddamn beautiful it hurts to look at. Like a fucking angel come to life.

"No. How about we _get off_ on the train, though?"

As my breath catches in my throat and my cock swells in my jeans, she opens her jacket. A lovely bright red pea coat makes her skin glow. Emma bares her full, perfect—and bare tits to me and I growl.

Looks like my angel still needs some lessons in how to behave.

# Chapter Eight

KRIS

Emma is the perfect mix of dirty angel. My very own naughty little elf.

After we rush aboard the very last passenger train, finding an empty car and locking it, she drops that lovely coat. Turns out, she isn't actually naked. She might as well be for the amount of lace in her get up.

It's not just lace—it's a snowflake print lace.

A large snowflake covers her pretty pink pussy. Two smaller ones barely cover her perfect little nipples. The rest is just gauze and strings holding it together. Before I ask her to explain the tiny outfit, I give her a swat on her plump ass.

"Rule one, Angel. Cover up what's mine. Remember that one?"

Emma giggles as she poses for me. "I do, baby. Of course, I do. However, I thought I might have to take drastic measures to remind you what's yours." She nudges my knees open, twisting to drop her ass into my lap.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I thought..."

Slowly she shimmies her hips, shaking her G-string covered ass against my throbbing dick.

"Mmm, I know what you thought. I left once, so you thought I could do it again. I earned that doubt, Kris. After that first weekend... I just got scared. If you knew _how badly_ I wanted you. For _how long_ I wanted you," she moans as her tiny hands cover mine and bring them to cup her tits.

"Shit. I do know. I wanted you too. Don't you know how bad I wanted you?" I grind out as her hips gyrate as she gives me the best fucking lap dance ever.

"Mmm, how bad, Kris? Bad enough that you had to touch yourself every single time we talked in the halls? Or if you touched me on the elevator? Bad enough that every single fantasy for the last year has been me? That bad?" I groan as my head falls back, eyes heavy as I watch her grind against me.

"That bad, baby. Exactly that fucking bad. Jesus, who are you right now?" With my hands cupping her still, I begin toying with her nipples.

Damn, I love every part of her body. From the curve of her neck to the two sexy dimples at the small of her back, the softness of her thighs and belly, and the roundness of her hips. I love her tiny feet with her cute little toes that she always keeps painted, the lushness of her ass, and the perfect swell of her tits with their pink nipples.

I lift their weight in my hands, thumbs tracing the snowflake design where her nipples jut out. She reaches her hands behind her, stroking me through my pants. I am hard as shit, my balls aching, and still she rocks against me in that sexy ass floss of fabric, taunting me with every move.

"Angel can be dirty for you, baby. I love your hands," she moans, her head tipping back, "I love how you touch me. Touch me, Kris."

Obeying her heightens how hot this is, because I am usually in charge.

I move one hand down her soft belly to slide aside the sexy scrap of panties. She is _so wet_ and hot and our moans fill the small compartment as I spread her open. My other hand tugs the top aside, letting her full mounds fall out. She falls back against my chest, twisting enough to turn her face into my neck.

Slowly I stroke her lips, never quite reaching that pulsing, swollen nub. Emma bites and sucks at my neck, her hands bent behind her still, fumbling with my zipper. Suddenly, my cock is out, and I hiss into her shoulder as she begins working it. She matches the rhythm of my hands as two fingers slide inside her and begin pumping.

"Goddamn you're so tight. I need to be inside you, Angel. I need my heaven right now."

"Yesssss," she lifts and then slides down on my cock, "Don't stop. Please don't stop, Kris," she demands as she braces her arm backwards on the seat and begins bouncing on my cock.

"Shit, yes. Ride my cock, baby. Take me deep. Fuck, you're so fucking wet. Such a dirty fucking angel. Love taking my cock. Tell me, tell me you love it."

"I love it. I love feeling you deep inside me. It's so fucking good, baby; so big and hard. I love it. Tell me you love my pussy."

"Fuck, yes I love your pussy. I love owning this pussy. Because it's fucking mine, Angel. All mine."

Her hips begin circling slowly, taking control. Then she does a crazy move where she spins on my lap with me still inside her. My hands drop to grip her backside as she covers my mouth with hers. All around us the whistles and whirring of the train coming to life fill the air. We are too wrapped up in each other to care.

Both of my hands smooth over her back, hooking at her shoulders to bring her close. She moves against me, lifting then falling, giving me soft sounds with every stroke. God, she is so beautiful like this.

In control of me and owning it—owning me.

Before the train departs, I clutch her close and tell her I'll never let her go again. We come together, shuddering as emotion thickens the air between us. It was always intense between us, but in that moment, I think we both know. This is it—for the both of us.

Call it a Christmas miracle; whatever it is, it's special.

As I cradle her to me, the train begins chugging along the tracks. I feel pure bliss bleeding through me. Joy and peace. It's so overwhelming, neither of us move for long moments. We just clutch at each other, the dim light of the late afternoon bathing us in buttery light.

"I think it's too late to get off, Kris," her voice is full of emotion as her arms circle my neck.

"I think so too, Angel. Why don't we take it as far as it can go, then?"

Neither of us are talking about this train out of Crystal Cove. We're both all in. She gives me one of her giggles so I crush her to me, taking her mouth in a searing kiss. It quiets her giggling for quite some time. When we reach the first stop half an hour later, we are in a much better place.

Snuggled into the tiny commuter compartment, she explains herself though I tell her it's not necessary. "The tickets were booked by my parents after I refused to do it myself. I thought I had no choice until... well until you, Kris. Evan messaging me back was the worst timing possible. He knew I wasn't coming home, so he was going to come surprise me, I guess."

"Evan is an interesting guy," I say with a hike of my brow as I pepper her skin with kisses.

"Of course he is," her voice is warm as it washes over me, "I only have interesting people in my life. The ones I choose to have in my life, anyway. He already adores you, by the way," she declares as she props her chin on my chest, her lovely eyes lighting with mischief.

"I kind of gathered that from our talk. Will he still be here for Christmas?" I try not to show how much I don't like the idea of sharing her. _With anyone_.

"Perhaps a second Christmas. He refused to come see me until I worked things out with you. I think he got a little tired of me pining over you and doing nothing about it. He was so angry at my when I called last night to explain how I had screwed it up," she sighs and I sober, dragging her chin up so her eyes meet mine.

"I'm so sorry for last night. I can't say it enough."

"Once was enough, baby. All the pieces made for a very ugly picture no matter how you pieced it together. There's still a lot I didn't tell you. Things that no one in Crystal Cove knows."

That one has to wait because we arrive and have to switch trains to head home.

Home. It's no longer Chicago for her or Dallas for me. It isn't really even the condo where we found each other. It's that town. It's the people like Father Elliot and Daisy.

Home is Emma and I together, no matter where we are.

While we take the train heading back home, I fall quiet. I know what I want from Emma. What I have always wanted from her. Although, before her, the very idea of spending my life with someone seemed impossible.

My own parents are still married but it is a less than happy union. I don't think either are entirely faithful although they are discreet. My brother and two sisters long ago settled down. I thought that perhaps I just wasn't wired that way.

Watching my parents tolerate each other and my siblings settle for logic instead of love, I never thought I might find my own happily ever after. Maybe that's why I write romance. I once let myself believe it's the only place romance can possibly exist.

Until I met Emma Snow.

Even though we took our sweet time getting here, this thing between us feels like romance. It always has. From the moment I saw her, singing at my doorstep and we got lost in each other's' gazes, it has been so sweet.

It has also been hot from the very start. The times we touch each other too long in the elevator. Or, I move close in the lobby as I hold a door for her. Especially all the times we linger at one another's doorstep, chatting and flirting outlandishly. Everything about this thing with Emma is romantic and sweet but so terribly hot that I know I'll never get enough.

My romance will last because it is consuming and affects so many parts of me.

"What's taken you so far away from me now, handsome?" she asks from beside me, that sexy red coat cinched tight around her waist again.

"Thinking about you. About us. Always about us," I reply as we weave through the crowd flooding from the train.

"Mmm, _us_. I like the sounds of that, Nichols," she muses as she throws her arms around my shoulders, her coat hiking up with the move.

"You like the sounds of me punishing you for showing off what's mine?" I threaten as I swat her ass and tug her coat to be sure she is covered.

"Perhaps I do, baby. Maybe that's why I'm so naughty all the time?"

"Leaving the house looking like you do right now," my hands skim between her thighs, "makes me believe you love to be reminded of the rules. I totally believe that you enjoy being naughty. Rule Seven. Only for me," I remind her and the grin she rewards me with has me stirring in my pants.

"Only for you, Kris. Of course, only for you," she hums as she snuggles into me and it feels as if my world can't get any righter.

We are quiet with our own thoughts on the short train trip home. I can sense our talking is not over. Which is fine by me. I still have plenty to tell her about. Small parts of me that don't define me but might matter to her. I hope they don't. I have worked to make those parts of me better. She just doesn't know all those parts yet.

Tonight, I will give her everything. Because, tonight, I want everything from my angel too.

It's two days until our first Christmas and there's a gift sitting under her tree that, hopefully, promises it won't be our last together. I found a great romance, even better than the one wrapped up in that pretty box, and I hope it has just as happy an ending as the one I have written.

That ending, waiting for Emma to read, is about as romantic as I can imagine.

# Chapter Nine

KRIS

Instead of taking a cab home, Emma and I walk the ten blocks from the train station to our place. After, of course, I insist she put some clothes on; out of her bag comes skinny jeans and a sweater. My girl came prepared.

It's snowing and she loves it and I love how she lights up. Along the way, she points out places I never knew about and laughs about the outrageous lights in the park at the center of town.

Crystal Cove is a small town that clutches tightly to small town modesty. Main Street is dotted with storefronts and the only movie theatre in thirty miles. People know each other, care about each other, and are there for each other through good and bad.

It's unlike any place I have ever been. In fact, I didn't think places like this still existed. I came through during my tours of colleges and never wanted to leave. I could see myself sitting in one of the Victorian homes, a fire roaring as I write novels about romance and happily every after's.

Crystal Cove looks like a postcard of a happily ever after.

"Mmm, I love it here. People here don't care about the same things people in Chicago do. They might know everything about you but they don't judge you for any of it." We walk slowly, kicking at the snow, her arm laced in mine.

"Or Dallas. Back home, they know my name, my face and they care about every single mistake and every single way I am different from them."

Beside me, she clutches me closer, rubbing her face against my shoulder. "Tell me why."

Just like that, I know there's so much we still have to share with each other.

"I told you my family runs an oil refinery. We own a few rigs out in the gulf, my great-grandfather was one of the first roughnecks to own his own rig. We do this dirty job for a living, but we're considered the upper crust in Dallas. It holds a lot of expectations." We pause near the fountain in the center of the park which now streams with lights instead of water.

"Is... is your father Nial Nichols?" she asks softly.

Suddenly, I begin to panic. It's never a good sign if someone knows my father.

"Yes. Angel, I'm not like him. Or my brother. I'm not like any of the Nichols' men. I want... look at me." This is it. I put it all out there and she takes it or I lose it all.

Emma obeys, tipping her head back as she waits. In the bright, twinkling lights of the square, she looks breath taking. Her hair spills down her back and flakes of snow dot the dark curls. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes sparkle up at me. _My Christmas Angel._

"I want you, Emma. I," taking a deep breath, I hold her tiny hands in mine as I gaze down at her, "I love you. I thought I did even before you kissed me, before I took you, and before you were really mine. Now, it's different; it's the most honest, purest thing I have ever felt. I waited so long to tell you how I felt because... I am not my father. I'm not money or flash or rubbing elbows with the right people. I love board games and sweet tea, walking through a park holding your hand. And I absolutely fucking love you." As I finish, two tears slide down her face.

"Kris... oh, Kris. I... I love you too. It didn't happen all at once. Not instant like your sweet, silly romances," she giggles and fuck, I cherish that sound, even more so right now, "that I also love. It was you laughing with me in the hallway. Touching me just enough to let us both feel it," she sighs and presses closer, her eyes full of emotion so deep my chest pulses with love.

"Eating my meals and helping me with groceries. It was you coming to volunteer, and it meaning as much to you as it did to them. It was Father Elliot telling me how you helped Daisy. How you donated to every single charity we talked about. Because, you, Nichols, are not like anyone _but you_. I love you too."

God damn, I love how it sounds when she says it. I crush her to me, taking her mouth in the sweetest, messiest, and most perfect kiss I've ever had. The air seems to vibrate with everything we both feel in the moment. I had never felt like I aligned with anyone, but all of me, down to my soul, it all aligns perfectly with her.

Emma is in love with me.

My perfect, sweet, and sometimes filthy angel is in love with me. I am too old to believe in Christmas miracles, but this kind of feels like one. Standing there in that glittering park, with snow softly falling, and this beautiful angel telling me she loves me, it feels like a postcard moment.

"You taste like Christmas," I murmur, because she does; peppermint and vanilla and sweet warmth.

"Mmm, well you look like you could be a sexy Santa. Can I play the naughty elf tonight?" she teases as she runs her fingertips over the light beard at my face where snow has gathered.

"I don't think Santa is supposed to want to fuck his elves in the snow, baby," I shoot back and she rewards me with that giggle and I can't help but join in as I touch my nose to hers

"I was just thinking this could be the most perfect Christmas postcard. Or even a cover for a romance novel. Too bad you don't have your camera with you. You could shoot a cover for my next book." That has me thinking of the present beneath her tree and then of the one she left at my doorstep.

"About that..." she trails off and bows her head. I feel the loss of her, of her warmth and sweet scent and I hate it.

"About my books?"

I reach for her but she shoots me a look. A red knitted hat is tugged down over her long hair and her dark brows shoot up beneath it. I can feel the tension rolling off of her. She is a carefree person, so this worries me. Whatever it is, I have to hope we can get through it together.

"No. No... about me. My photography. I uh... you know I kind of freelance. I shoot for campaigns or local stories," I do know this, and had noticed the lack of jobs she's taken lately, "I love photography; capturing scenes, moments. It's inspiring to me. However, local stories barely pay my rent—which we should talk about since I'm shagging the landlord—and bigger campaigns take me away from home."

Not only am I aware of this last fact, I kind of hate it.

While I've seen some of her work—and love it of course—I hate when she leaves on assignments. I am miserable every time she goes and now that she is mine, I can't imagine it. The very idea of her always coming and going forms a knot in my stomach.

At the same time, I am proud of her for taking a leap. I know her family thinks her creative ways were fruitless, and even if it sounds like maybe they are, she loves it. If my girl is happy doing something she loves, who else should care?

What Emma wants is what I want, no matter what it is.

"I don't love the idea of you leaving me on a regular basis. But, as long as you always come back, I think we can discuss ahem, _payment options_ for your rent," I tease and just briefly a smile flits across her face.

"I don't... I _don't want_ to leave, Kris. I am absolutely miserable when I'm gone. Even before this," she sighs and steps closer at last, touching her nose to mine as snowflakes covers her lashes.

"I hate going away. Mostly the not knowing. Do you miss me too? Were you laughing with someone else? Helping 4B with her groceries? I mean, she's hot. I don't know if I could leave again if I had to. Which I don't. I do love it but I am no good at making a career out of it."

Stepping closer. I reach for her again. This time, she lets me lace our fingers together, hers soft and cold from the winter chill. I lean close, sharing the icy air and nudging her red nose with my own.

"Angel. I love you. I've fallen in love with you over and over since we first met. Every day a little more, a little differently. I always miss you, desperately. I never laugh with anyone the way I do with you and I know about one woman living in our building. That, is you, Emma Snow. Do you want to be a photographer, Em?"

Slowly her head shakes as her eyes dart around. "I thought I did. I'm good at it, dammit. Just not good enough to survive off of it, apparently."

I bring her against my chest, waiting till her gaze meets mine again. "I want you to do what you love, baby. Anything you want. We can make it happen. I'm not exactly Santa Claus, but I can give you whatever you wish. Not because of the Nichols money, although I mean, nothing wrong with falling for a dashing rich guy, right? I can give you what you want because I love you, Emma. I'll do anything to make you happy."

"Before you promise me more. Kris, I don't go home for a reason. My family is dysfunctional at best and domineering and ruthless at their worst. My father was fine writing checks for school. Then for a year for me to, as he stated, fail miserably at finding myself. Those checks stopped when I refused to go home. I don't have anything to offer you, Kris."

The look of pain that flashes across her face slices right through me.

"Oh, Emma. You are all I could ever need. Just you. The woman who gives, no matter her struggles. Who buys groceries to stock a pantry for people who need it. Who fed a lonely, love-struck writer who didn't have the nerve to ask her out to dinner like she deserves. I don't need to take care of you because you do just fine. I would like a chance to try, though."

Emma can't know how true my words are. I intend to take care of her, no matter what that means. Because she is it for me; this woman is going to be my life. The bad, and all the absolutely fucking good that comes with that is all I need in return.

"I was going to go home to try to persuade my father to let me live my life. Without his money and the strings that come with it. Because I want to do things on my own. I don't want to cut strings just to get tied up in someone else's."

Well, that fucking stings. In fact, it burns me and I step away, my hands falling from her. She looks panicked as I start to turn away. Maybe I still have no clue about love or romance.

Because I thought falling in love meant more than this.

Perhaps Emma doesn't want to be tied down at all. I think, just maybe, no matter what we feel, it's still not enough for me. I think about that wrapped book and the cliffhanger ending I left it on.

Do my heroes not get their happily ever after?

"I see." I can't say more because I feel my throat thickening and my eyes stinging. _Was I so wrong about this thing between us?_

"No, baby. No, you don't. Kris, I did fall for a dashing rich guy but that's not who you are. Not to me. I love you because you came to that shelter, and you gave Daisy hope. I love you because you baked pies with me. I love you because you let me feed you my food; and you tell me you love it and I can see me in your kitchen, fixing us dinner for the rest of ever," she insists, moving close to press her face against my back as her arms loop around my waist.

"Tell me what you want, Emma. I'll give you anything," my words are strained, but I lace our fingers together, holding tight.

"I want to take care of you and let you take care of me. In the ways we know how. I want lots of Christmases with you, Kris Nichols. I want to make love under Christmas trees and in sleighs and maybe in a bed a few times. Maybe I can take pictures for your sweet, sexy books? Otherwise, I don't want to be a photographer. I'd like to cook, I think. Think you might pay me enough to save up for my own little place where I feed people and accidently make too much so I can take it to the church?"

Jesus, my angel really is a fucking saint.

"I think I can pay you in any way you want. Cash. Check. Cock. All the above. I want to give you whatever you want because you've given me everything I want. This little town and these amazing people. You, Angel. This is my home and I've never felt that before." I tug her around to hold her close and she's smiling through tears.

"Well, boss. I love you and I promise you will always have a home with me," she promises before she kisses me with the snow falling and the lights twinkling all around us.

# Chapter Ten

KRIS

Christmas Eve is spent in bed.

Once we come home from the park, we barely make it to her place. Emma wakes me up with breakfast in bed. Breakfast that gets very messy, very fast; I choose to lick syrup from her pussy instead of using it on her delicious French toast. We take a filthy shower after I mess up her sheets and then head to my place.

We spend the day watching any Christmas movie she tries talking me into. Anything to make her happy. To make me happy, I make a game out of making her come every time elves are mentioned. _Elf_ leaves her pretty fucking wrung out from orgasms.

She bakes cookies and wraps presents I didn't even know she had shopped for. All from the comfort of my big, comfortable, perfectly mussed bed. I can spend a thousand days like this with her and never want for more.

Except, I do want for one thing more.

That golden and red gift wrapped beneath the tree will tell her exactly what I want from her. What I want with her. Until she opens that book and reads the ending I hope we can make true, I will take whatever she wants to give to me.

Before presents can be opened, we spend a day just being in love. I tell her about my brother and that when I head home to sign papers, I want her there. Emma asks me to return the favor and go home with her to tell her father she is going it alone.

After, we can spend every Christmas exactly like this.

"Mmm, I love you. I love this," she snuggles into my side, rubbing herself against me as she purrs this, "just you and me and nothing else. Snow on the ground, presents beneath the tree, cookies baked and waiting. My sexy Santa teaching his dirty elf how to behave." We laugh together as she crawls over my lap, completely naked except for a silky elf hat.

"My dirty elf rides the Santa's candy cane, huh?" I growl as her teasing changes, her hips rocking against me.

"I love sweets," she teases, looking up at me from beneath her lashes, "I should maybe taste your candy cane," she says before doing just that.

My fingers tunnel in her thick hair, careful of the cute hat, and I watch her take me in her mouth. Pleasure pounds through me as she slides her mouth over my length, her tongue circling the head as she watches me with heavy eyes.

For a while, I let her be the filthy angel I love. When I feel my balls tingling and that familiar burn racing up my spine, I pull out of her mouth with a pop. Her cute pout turns into a gasp of pleasure when I drag her over my lap and drive up inside her.

Guiding my hands up to cup her breasts as they bounce, the buds hard and rosy pink, she chants how much she loves me. Loves my hands and the dark spread of tattoos down my arm. Swears her love for the cock she bounces on, her hand moving behind her to cup and stroke me.

I follow up by telling her how much I love her soft, perfect tits and the nipples I love to suck on. I tell her how I love her hips and the dimples at her back. And, flicking and rubbing at her swollen clit, I tell her how obsessively in love I am with her pretty little pink pussy.

Lifting her off of me, I slide down at the same time I angle her forward. Emma cries out as I settle her sweet, juicy pussy over my face. Her thighs bracket my head, and I feast on her like she' as sweet as candy canes. Because to me she's just as delicious.

"Oh God, baby. Jesus, Nichols." Her head throws back as she rocks against my face.

"You're so fucking beautiful riding my face, Angel. My filthy, naughty little elf."

I lick at her deep and slow, adding my fingers to the party. Two slide inside her tightness and one presses at her tight rosebud. I suck at her clit as I pump my fingers, my teeth biting at her lips, and she goes wild. One of her hands bends behind her so she can stroke my cock.

My angel settles on my face as if it's her throne, my tongue deep inside her, and that fucking elf hat on her head just about does me in. Suckling at her as her hand matches the rhythm of my fingers, I know I have to act.

Flipping us, I pin her face down to the bed. Grasping her hips, I drive deep inside her. She comes hard and long, shaking beneath me so violently that the bed trembles. Her hands fist the twisted sheets as she bellows and whimpers, the sight so fucking hot I almost lose my load.

"Tell me what I need to hear, Angel," I urge, still deep inside her, fingers digging into her flesh.

"I love you. Now _fuck me_ , baby."

Later that night, spent from cookies, movies, and lots of sweeter than candy cane fucking, we are at the church again. Another meal service—where Daisy proudly takes her place beside us—gives those in need a full belly for the holiday. Her two adorable kids are rather attached to me, but I kind of like it. Emma glances over as I spin them in the air, beaming at me.

I know I love her and I know I want to be with her for the rest of life. Looking at her as she watches me with the twins, I know I want more. I want to be playing with _our kids_ on Christmas. I want to see her look at me like that as I hold mini versions of her or even me.

One year ago, I had no idea when I opened my door I'd find love. I also didn't know it would take a lot of close calls and terrible flirting in the elevator and that hallway for us to realize it.

Now, I know I can write books forever because I'll always have a muse for the heroine. Emma declares she will still shoot photos, but only for my covers. She even teases that I should be the sexy man on the covers. I, of course, respond to that by pounding her like the filthy book boyfriends in my books.

Waking up Christmas morning with her beside me is a morning I'll never forget. Emma giggles and tugs me into the living room where we have spread out all the gifts for each other beneath my tree.

"Merry Christmas, Angel."

"Merry Christmas, baby."

She hands me the mysterious gift she left on my doorstep. It's medium size, but heavy and beautifully wrapped. Carefully, I tear open the golden wrapping as she bounces in front of me. My angel loves giving more than receiving. In the bedroom and under the Christmas tree, it seems.

" _Baby._ " Tears sting my eyes because I've never felt the things this woman makes me feel.

Inside is a beautiful antique Remington typewriter. It's gorgeous; with glistening curves and brightly painted keys, and it is in amazing condition. I am obsessed by the progression of type. Something she knows from one of our first conversations.

I don't think Emma could have chosen something more perfect. I stroke the keys as she watches, anxious for feedback. A piece of paper is loaded so I tentatively tap three words out.

"I love you," Emma reads out loud, her hand lifting to her mouth.

"I love you, Angel. I wanted to save this for last, but now seems perfect." I dig out the box that I hope holds my future with her in it.

"I wanted to open this one most, in fact, sexy Santa," she admits before snuggling into my lap.

We are in the big chair by the fireplace, two cups of hot chocolate topped with plenty of whip cream and peppermint on the ledge beside us. The house smells like gingerbread and cinnamon, the tree sparkles, and Emma loves it all. Now, I love it even more than I can remember.

With her seated in my lap, and her long legs dangling over the sides, she opens that gift. I am so nervous my palms are sweaty. My pulse races and I'm sure she knows I'm losing my shit.

Emma lets out a soft sound when she sees what is inside. Those whisky eyes fly to mine, glittering with tears. My chest goes tight and I want to crush her to me, but I wait. She may think she understands the gift but, until she finds the last passage, she has no idea what it means to me.

"Oh Kris..." As if it is made of glass, she lifts the book out carefully.

The cover is a photo Emma had taken. She always loved the Victorian homes in town and one in particular was a favorite. The day she came home with the proofs, she was beaming as she showed me photos of what she teasingly called a _"real-life gingerbread-house-dream-home"._

Snow clings to the evergreens surrounding the home, which has twinkling lights hung along the eaves and roof. It is, again, postcard perfect. I told her how lovely it was and two days later, she slid a copy of the photo beneath my door.

It's one of the first moments I knew I was falling for her.

As I watch, her bright red painted nails flip through the pages, a soft smile at her lips. She brings the book to her face and inhales. My girl loves books and I sure as shit love that. I feel when she spots it— _My_ _Snow Angel—_ the book's working title.

"What's this?" her eyes widen as they bounce between me and the book in her hand.

"I don't know, Angel."

My arms circle her tight, bringing her close. For a few moments, her eyes scan the pages. Smiling and laughing at parts, she reads the story of us. It's all true, all the way up to the last few chapters. Those, I had written what I _hoped_ would happen between us.

Lucky me, some of those moments have come true. The walk in the park with the lights sparkling and the snow falling. Making love beneath the tree. Fucking in the kitchen while gingerbread cookies baked. Emma flushes at parts, and I can feel myself responding to that lovely pink.

Now is not the time to get turned on though.

One single finger slides over the ribbon I placed there almost two weeks ago. It is just red silk, a lovely little bookmark. But it really it's so, so much more. It's hers, if she will have it, with her name in a lovely swirled print at the top—with my last name beneath it.

When her fingers trace my name she begins to tremble.

"Read the last page, Angel," I press my mouth to her ear, holding her tighter.

" _Sitting in front of the fire, watching her in the glowing light of the tree, their Christmas unwrapped all around them, he knew. Oh, he had always known. But then, for sure, he knew. Emma is who he will always want to bathe in the warmth of Christmas afterglow with."_

Reaching past her, I snag a sparkling white ornament from the tree. It's frosted and glittery and inside a few things float. A candy cane. An elf's hat. A tiny gingerbread man. A lovely little Christmas tree. And of course, Santa's Sleigh.

And a Snow Angel.

Tied within the ribbon to hang it, a diamond ring glitters.

" _The ornament is the first of many, he hopes,_ " I read for her, holding the ornament before her eyes, _"Their first Christmas memories. Emma Snow is his Angel. An Angel who gave him a home and let him feel heaven. Right there beneath the tree, Kris asks Emma to be his wife. To make every Christmas one they can make memories of."_

"Kris...." Hesitantly, Emma reaches out to gingerly touch the ornament.

"Marry me, Angel. Make a home with me, for real. Give me Christmas with you forever. And Thanksgiving. Halloween. Even Easter. I want every moment of forever, with you. I want babies and cookies and....you."

Emma slides a trembling hand over the ornament, letting the ring slide over her finger. It fits perfectly just like we do.

"Yes. Yes! All the yes. I love you, Kris Nichols. I want a thousand more holidays with you, in this cute little town. Doesn't matter where we are, you are my home."

"And you are mine."

With my ring glittering on her hand, Emma tugs me beneath the tree to show me Rule number Eight.

My filthy Snow Angel comes when I call her _Mrs. Nichols._

THE END

# Epilogue

Emma

Love is in the air in Crystal Cove. At least, this Valentine's Day makes it seem like it. Perhaps it's always been like that here for the holidays. Maybe I'm just noticing how lovely it is because I, much like everyone else it seems, am blissfully in love.

Coming to Crystal Cove had been an accident; I came here on a photography assignment and simply never left. Days after I signed a lease, Father Elliot at the beautiful old church I was originally here to photograph insisted I go caroling with them. Naturally, I introduced myself to my new neighbors in the corniest, most bothersome way possible.

That caroling adventure is what landed me on Kris Nichols' doorstep.

From the moment he opened that door and our eyes met, I felt switched on. I didn't know I could feel like that. Every part of me from the synapses firing in my brain, to the aching tingle between my thighs, came alive that night.

Of course, it took us almost a year and another holiday to come together. Christmas is picturesque here; it reminds me how special things can be. It's what brought me here after all, and it brought Kris and I together.

"It looks amazing, Angel," Kris speaks from behind me, pressing close and winding his arms around my shoulders.

"Why thank you, handsome."

Always such a flirt, my handsome fiancé.

For nearly a year, Kris and I flirted. Lingering moments in the hallway or touches on the elevator that lasted too long to be friendly. It was sweet and intense and one by one, he switched on every part of me.

As Christmas neared again, I couldn't wait another day, another hour, and another minute.

One kiss changed my life because he tasted like coming home. Until I had that first moment with him, I didn't know what that meant. Now, I know exactly what it feels like for one person to feel like they are your home.

Before we met, I bent to the will of a family that has no idea how to love. Now, I know what it feels like to feel loved. To know I have a place I belong. Kris is my home. This town is too; but wherever he is feels like home.

This little restaurant—which we got open just in time for Valentine's Day—feels like home too. Peering out at all the couples eating my food and gazing at each other in the dimly lit room, the romance feels tangible.

"I love to watch you work, Em," his voice brings me back to the moment.

"You love to eat my work," I giggle as he kisses at my neck.

"Mmm, I do. Speaking of, you smell fucking edible, baby," he says this softly, but I blush when a few nearby heads turn.

"Behave. You still need to get your hands dirty." I nod towards the kitchen.

He groans as his hands slide up my thighs."Oh, baby, you know I love to get my hands dirty for you."

I moan because, damn, he does and I love it too. "Kris. Baby. Please..."

He doesn't relent, his fingers skating beneath my skirt to find my panties and stroking me through them. I know he will stop though; because he loves me enough to know how important tonight is for me.

We've been open just barely a week and tonight we are packed. The restaurant is small, just ten tables and five booths, but it's perfect for Crystal Cove. I don't have a permanent menu and I don't think I ever will. I make whatever I feel like making.

Beside the long silver front counter, one wall is a chalk menu that changes daily. At the top, Daisy designed the only thing that stayed. The name in bright red and white flowery script.

Emma's Eatery.

It's perfect. This little aged building—with the exposed brick walls and aged-wood floors—is small town but also elegant. The moment I stepped inside, I knew it was going to be my place. Just the same way I knew this town was where I would find a home. And exactly the way I felt when Kris opened his door to me singing Christmas carols.

After another door opened after we cut the ribbon on Emma's Eatery. My sweet and sexy fiancé took me for a celebration drive. A drive that seemed to take us all over town with no real destination. Of course, Kris _always_ has a destination in mind—he writes perfect endings for a living, after all.

At the edge of town atop a hill sits the most perfect home I have ever seen. During my first months here, I came upon the house sparkling with lights and looking picture perfect in the wintery landscape. It enraptured me so I snapped a few pics of it.

Kris loved the image so much that I snuck a photo beneath his door in the early days of our flirting. He used that very photo as the cover for a book he wrote about our romance. That book is the most special and significant Christmas gift I might ever open.

Because, the final pages asked me to be his wife.

"We don't need a place to call home. Because, we will always be home for each other. But, we might as well have a place to lay our heads, raise our kids, and a threshold I can carry you over, yeah?"

Just a few weeks ago, after that drive seemingly to nowhere, we stopped at that perfect home. Kris created another storybook moment when he carried me over that threshold and into our new home. He writes the sweetest and most perfect moments—but the ones he gives me are even better. Our story, the one that he keeps building chapters on with me, is the most perfect and romantic one I could ever imagine.

It's also a bit dirty; that romantic moment ended swiftly because once we got inside our new home, he wasted no time fucking me in every room in the house. For good measure, he christened a few rooms twice, in fact.

"I hate this shit." Just as I feel thick fingers slide inside me, Daisy barks this from her perch atop the front counter.

"Hate what, Daisy Girl?" Kris asks with a smile; Daisy grimaces at our embrace and nods her head towards the busy tables.

"Love. Romance. Gooey shit. No one really gets a happily ever after, do that?"

"Oh, Daisy. You don't mean that," I chastise, gazing back at my very own happily ever after.

"Oh, I do. It makes me downright sick. Fools. Not you two," she teases over her shoulder at us, smirking suddenly, "you two are cute. Filthy as shit since I know he's got his fingers deep in G-town right now." Laughing when I gasp, from both her observation and the fact that Kris is, in fact, in _G-Town_ , she bounces off to help customers.

"Oh shit," he laughs into my neck, "Daisy Girl needs to get laid. I think my Angel does too. Rule number Eight: Mrs. Nichols, I'm fucking you all over this restaurant once you lock those doors tonight."

Standing there, watching romance flow through the room, I know romance is definitely in the air in Crystal Cove. And, as the man of my dreams strokes me to a quiet, powerful orgasm, I know I am just fine with it being a little dirty, too.

REALLY THE END.

# Acknowledgments

I love the holidays. They're about special memories, being with loved ones, and magic. I dove into Snow Angel just for fun, between other projects. In the idea Rolodex of my brain, I'd been wanting to do a holiday themed series. So, here you have it, Dolls.

Kris and Emma's story will be the first, I hope, of a series of short, sweet, romantic, and always very dirty, holiday themed tales set in the quaint town of Crystal Cove.

I just want to thank every single person who reads this. Who read any of my Burn Series. Or anything else I ever put out. I love to write. I spent most my adult life crafting stories that I never thought I'd get to share. Now, I do. Good or bad, if you love them or hate them, thank you.

**About Dee** **:**

Born and raised in the Midwest, reading and writing have always been Dee's passion. Short stories became long stories that finally, became books.

While playing grownup during the day, meaning working a job, Dee wrote her first book. When not reading or writing, which leaves less time than she's proud of, Dee loves spending her time with her furbabies, her husband and lots of movies nights.

Find Dee:

Facebook: **Author Page**

Reader Group: **Dee's Dolls**

Instagram: **@ AuthorDeeEllis**

Twitter: **@ AuthorDeeEllis**

Website: **Dee Ellis Author**

Sign up for my **Newsletter**

# More from the Author

_The Burn Series_ _:_

**Let it Burn** ****

**Burn it** ******Down** ****

**Burn for Me** ****

**Slow Burn** ****

Crystal Cove Holidays Novella Series:

**Snow Angel** ****

**Stupid Cupid** ****

**Chasing Glory** ****

**Tricky Treats** ****

**New Resolutions** ****

**Lucky Duck** ****

**Good Fridays** ****

**Father Figures** ****

Scary Single

Having Grace

Standalones:

**Fighting for Her** ****

**Just One Night** ****

Mustang Maverick

End Game

Anthologies:

**Naughty Irish Fate** ****

Flirt Club Short Stories:

Santa's Baby

Resolution: Double Dare

Dear Sexy Swimmer

Mr. Pink

Spring Break Heartache

His Sun Drop

Always a Bridesmaid

Her Captain's Deck

Mistletoe Magic

