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And yet, reality still felt like something on the distant periphery of her mind. Inside his home, it was warm and cosy, the tree they’d set up twinkling with lights, the kitchen smelling of spiced baked goods and mulled wine, everything ticking a box for her of the perfect Alpine Christmas she’d always, always longed for.
To top it all off, they’d spent the afternoon watching Isabella’s favourite Christmas movie, The Christmas Chronicles.
“So? What did you think?” She asked, her chest on Gabe’s shoulder. “But be warned,” she angled her face to his. “I could never respect a man who didn’t love this movie.”
He grimaced as though in physical pain. “Then I suppose I shall have to say I love it.”
“But didn’t you?” She held her breath.
His grimace turned to a smile. “I admit, I enjoyed it. For a Christmas movie.”
“Awww,” she playfully punched his bicep. “Look at you getting all festive and soft.”
He arched a brow, looking for a moment so quintessentially hard-hearted and ruthless that for a moment a rush of ice trembled down her spine. Somewhere along the way she’d forgotten that he was, in fact, a behemoth of industry, a man renowned in corporate finance circles for his hard-headed negotiating style. Then he relaxed into a smile and she warmed up all over again.
“I would not go that far.”
“No, nor would I,” she agreed.
“Is it my turn now?”
“What for?”
“To choose a movie.”
“Oh.” Her heart thumped. Pleasure at the fact he wanted to prolong this ran through her. “That depends. What’s it going to be?”
“Don’t you trust me?”
She stared at him, stricken. It was like being tilted off the edge of the earth. Trust him? Did she?
She nodded without realising it, her mind clunky as she grappled with the realisation that there was something about Gabe that did, indeed, make her trust him. It was based on nothing but instinct. She felt as though she was truly, completely safe with him. She felt as though she belonged with him.
The thought was terrifying; she pushed it aside abruptly.
“So? Hand over the remote control.” She eyed the device to her left, then looked back at him. Taking her hesitation as an intention to deny him, he moved quickly, reaching across her, so in a split second she decided to thwart him, grabbing for the remote at the same time. He was bigger and stronger, but didn’t monster her. His body came over hers, his legs pressing down on hers, his presence knocking everything from her mind except the perfection of this.
“Holding out on me, huh?” He challenged. “And here I thought we had a deal.”
“You didn’t tell me what movie you’re going to put on,” she panted between snatched breaths, her lungs full of his intoxicating male aroma, her head weakened by her awareness of him as a sexual being.
He was strong, and he was powerful, and though he respected her boundaries, he also seemed to know exactly what she wanted and needed. One of his hands caught both of her wrists, clamping them above her head, pressing them to the arm of the plush leather sofa in the same motion that he pushed up and straddled her, his burgeoning arousal between her legs unmistakable.
“You said you trust me.” He rolled his hips then, nudging her legs apart, his body simulating such a sensual motion that she groaned, tilting her head back, surrendering to him in every way – whatever movie he wanted to watch was fine with her; whatever he wanted to do with her was fine by Isabella as well.
“I do.”
Their eyes locked and something like electricity sparked between them, something bright and bold and beautiful and then he was kissing her, pushing that same feeling and spark deep inside of her with every flick of his tongue. It was a kiss of dominance and possession, a kiss that welded her to the sofa and bonded her to him, a kiss that spoke of all the things they never did – trust, promises, everything he’d said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – offer. It was a kiss that stole her breath and heated her veins, a kiss that made her impatient for him all over.
“The movie can wait?” He teased, his free hand finding the waistband of her shirt and pushing it up so his fingertips could connect with her bare stomach. Goosebumps chased across her body. She nodded her agreement and moaned into his mouth, her legs lifting to wrap around his waist, drawing him closer to her.
It was impossible to think about the fact it hadn’t snowed in twenty four hours. It was impossible to think about the fact she was living on borrowed time. It was impossible to think at all. He stripped their clothes from their bodies with a sense of reverence matched only by his urgency, and then his hand was back at her wrists, clamping them as he had before, his powerful frame weighing hers down, his knee nudging her legs apart as he pushed into her, his body moving effortlessly and perfectly, every motion exactly what her body craved, driving her inexorably towards a tipping point that only Gabe could take her to.
Her legs clamped hard around his waist, pressing into his sides in a way that offered no impediment to his motion. He shifted to his own rhythm, his needs in tune with hers, so that their crescendo was mutual and shared, the room filled with the sound of their combined noises, his deep and guttural, hers throaty and intense.
As they reached a simultaneous explosion, his hands moved, his fingers catching hers and weaving through them, his eyes open and lancing hers, the possession so much more intimate with those small gestures of connection. She fell apart beneath him in every sense, her eyes buried in his, their gazes locked in an unbreakable, vital way. The power of what they’d shared shifted something in her gut; she felt it, and knew she was changed by it, only she had no idea what to do with that knowledge. Everything was different, nothing made sense, and yet she was overwhelmed with a sense of rightness and contentment. She was, in that moment, truly, unshakably happy.
“It’s not a Christmas movie,” she laughed, as the credits rolled. “I’m sorry, just because it happens to take place at Christmas time and there’s some allusion to gifts and decorations, doesn’t mean it’s festive. And you know that.” She jabbed her finger into his chest, her other hand holding the tub of ice cream.
