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James slumped back against the pine-colored cushion behind him. "Maybe I'll go somewhere warm for the holidays next year. I've always wondered what it would be like to open presents under a palm tree with a belly full of pina coladas."
I scrunched my nose. "That sounds awful. No cozy fire? No warm mulled wine? No snow? Count me out."
The barman banged the large brass bell over the bar, signaling that it was our last chance to grab a drink before we got shoved out into the cold city streets.
"I'm getting one for the road," James said. "You two want anything?"
"Nope." Quinn stretched an arm behind me. "Got everything I need right here."
James' lips twitched like he didn't appreciate Quinn's smug expression, but I’d learned there was little I could do about their constant sparring. Rubbing our love in James's face was just too much fun for Quinn, and my brother was so allergic to our public displays of affection that it was almost impossible to avoid irking him.
"Can't you go easy on him?" I asked Quinn as James shoved past some stools to get to the bar. "You know this is hard on him."
"He's not the only one this is hard on," Quinn said, waggling his tipsy brows at me.
I feigned a scowl. "Get your mind out of the gutter."
"It’s much too late for that," he said. "I've been dying to look up your skirt all night."
A billow of heat rose through my center and burned my cheeks.
"You remember what happened the last time you wore that skirt, don't you?" he asked, his eyes fixed on mine like a wolf who's just spotted an injured rabbit.
I nodded as I recalled how my black mini skirt looked bunched around my waist while his head moved between my legs, how my fingers looked tangled in his hair while his wild tongue splashed inside me.
"So you do remember," he said, his smile reaching his darkening eyes.
My heart rate doubled as I dropped my voice. "Do you think we can stay like this?"
He cocked his head. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, do you think we can stay this loved up or do you think our honeymoon phase will come to an end?"
"My feelings for you will never fizzle," he said, tipping a finger under my chin.
My heart swelled with relief. "I hope you're right." I scooted closer to him and set a hand on his jean-clad thigh. "I like the way we are."
"Me too," he said, his blue eyes sparkling. "Pretty sure I'm the luckiest guy on earth."
I dropped my forehead against his. "And don't you forget it."
He lifted a hand and held my cheek in his palm. "I won't," he said. "I promise."
And I believed him. Loved him. Trusted him.
Always had. Always will.
