I look over my shoulder at him after I’m positioned on my hands and knees. He reaches back with a hand, grips his T-shirt, and pulls it off, tossing it, as his gaze remains locked between my legs. He guides my panties down to my knees, runs his finger up my length, and I fist the sheet with both hands, dropping my head when he bites the skin of my ass.

“Ask me,” he says between long, torturously slow licks up and down my pussy.

I moan against the lip I have tightly secured between my teeth, trying not to scream out, as not one, but fuck, two fingers enter me. He pushes between my thighs and sucks on my clit.

“Ask me,” he repeats, blowing against my heated flesh.

My body trembles, the pleasure becoming too intense, too much, too perfect.

His fingers fuck me in a teasing rhythm, slowing down when I tighten around them to prolong my pleasure.

I gasp through a moan when he runs his tongue up my spine.

“Ask me, Tessa. Now.” He’s at my ear, leaning over me, grinding his rigid cock against my flesh.

“Do you love me today?” I ask as he tilts my head to taste the skin of my neck. My eyes fall closed when he pushes inside me, filling me, owning me.

My name breaks apart the moan that rumbles in his throat. “Yes,” he answers, pressing the word into my cheek. “I love you. Every day.”

I shudder, reacting to his response and the way he’s slowly fucking me. His thick cock slides between my legs, wetting my lips, my thighs, gliding over the skin of my ass.

He enters me again, this time greedy, lust driven, rocking my body with punishing thrusts.

“Fuck, yeah, babe.” He groans behind me, sliding his hand up my back.

My elbows give out under his power, bowing my back to him, forcing him deeper, and oh, God, he’s so deep.

“Luke, I’m gonna come.”

“I want you how I used to have you,” he says, slowing down the drag of his cock, prolonging his release. “Fuuuck, Tessa, please.”

I remember his words to me at the hospital, and my decision is made.

“Come in me.”

He knows how to get me there with him; all too well, he knows it. A shift of his hips, the way he hungrily digs his skillful fingers into my skin. I stretch my arms out in front of me as his thrusts become frenzied, as my body burns up from the inside out, and I feel it, the second he breaks, when all control is lost, and it happens the very moment I call out his name.

“Luke!”

“Tessa, oh fuck, yeah, squeeze my dick, babe.” He pumps into me, whispering dirty words against my ear, rooting himself deep until his cock stops twitching.

I whimper when he kisses my shoulder, running his lips along the line that leads to my neck. He nuzzles me, breathes me in, and sighs.

He fucking sighs.

Nothing could make me happier right now. Nothing.

“Ask me,” he whispers against my ear.

I smile.

Well, almost nothing.

I have many ugly memories of this place. Ones that outweigh, or make me forget all the good ones.

When my mom died, this house became cold, and desolate. My father was like a dark cloud hovering over every room, shadowing all the light my mother had left behind. I hated being here with him, especially during this time of year.

Holidays were always harder. I didn’t need the added bonus of watching him stumble around the house, reacting violently to the loss of her one minute, then collapsing on the floor in a sobbing pile of misery the next. While other families were partaking in traditions I grew up with, I was making sure my father fell asleep on his side, in case he started vomiting in the middle of the night. I spent a lot of Christmases alone, not knowing where my father was, not bothering with putting up a tree, because who the fuck would care if we even had one? We were the only house on the street not decorated with multi-colored lights, but I got to the point where I didn’t give a damn. I let myself forget about all the things my mom used to do around this time of year. The decorating, how she used to spend hours in the kitchen, presents.

Yeah. No presents. I forgot what those were.

I was alone. Everything I did, I did alone.

Not anymore.

Tessa bangs away in the kitchen as I straighten out that damn star on the top of the tree. That shit has been crooked since she put it up there, but she was so damn cute, adamant she didn’t need my help, while her height clearly made the task difficult. That thing has been dropping to the left so far that it’s beginning to resemble a candy cane.

After I right it so the branch isn’t stressed anymore, I step through the doorway leading into the kitchen, admiring my view.

My amazing, un-fucking-believably hot view.

Tessa, bent over to check the cookies she’s been baking all day in the oven. Her jeans form a damn second skin to that ass I can’t get enough of. The one I’m obsessed with. The one covered in bite marks.

I lean against the counter, watching as she pulls two baking sheets out of the oven and places them on top of the stove. It smells amazing in here. The whole damn house smells amazing, and it’s decorated for the first time in twelve years.

Tessa wants everything to be perfect. Every decoration she pulled out of the boxes I had packed away twelve years ago was held up and asked where my mom used to like it. The house looks exactly like it did when I was a kid. And my girl did that.

We moved in together a few weeks after Chase was born. I had to go get all my stuff from Port Deposit and give enough notice to leave that job without screwing myself out of any future employment. Jacobs took it, a win-win for everyone, and since Ben hadn’t been set up with a partner to replace me while I was gone, I slid back into my old position.

I press my lips against her shoulder, along her neck, while my hands wrap around her chest, pulling her back against me.

“Hey.” She turns her head and kisses my jaw. “Did you put up all the lights?”

“Yeah.”

“All of them worked?”

“Nope.”

She chuckles. “Well, they were crazy old. I told you we should’ve probably bought new ones.”

“The house looks fine with only half of them lit.”

She spins in my arms, hitting me with an alarming look. “Half of the lights? Are you kidding? That probably looks so tacky.”

I lift the bottom of her shirt to run my thumb along her hipbone, tracing the tattoo. I do that a lot, and the smile she always gives me keeps me doing it.

“Kidding, babe. The whole damn thing is lit up. We look like that house from that movie you made me watch.”

“Christmas Vacation!” she beams. “The little lights aren’t twinkling, Clark.”

I laugh, dropping a kiss to her forehead. “They’re twinkling.” My eyes strain over the top of her, looking down at the counter covered in trays of cookies. “Jesus, woman.”

“What?” She looks over her shoulder. “Oh, well, you’re supposed to bake a lot of cookies at Christmas. And I wanted to make a bunch for your dad to take home when he stops by later.” She steps back and gestures at one of the trays. “You said his favorite is snickerdoodle, right?”

I nod, remembering my mom baking them for him every year. “Yeah.”

She tilts her head with a sweet grin. “Five months is a big deal. You should be really proud of him.”

“I am,” I affirm, stepping up to the stove and looking down at the cookies.