The smile Tristian gives me is small and bittersweet. “No, sweetheart, he’s claiming his destiny. That NFL life was just a fun distraction and we all know it. It’s why he’s trying not to go to that banquet in a few weeks. You know he’s usually the type to rip the band-aid off, but not here. The banquet is honoring student-athletes as a precursor to the draft season. He’s got that shit in the bag, but once he accepts it and is forced to tell the coach he’s quitting the team, it all becomes reality.”
“I guess…it’s just always been part of his identity.” Images of Killian back in high school, wearing his jersey in the halls, his sweaty clothes in our shared bathroom hamper, the trophies and wins. He’s right, this is going to be as hard on him as it was for Tristian to take me on that dance floor in front of his family. As much as Dimitri giving all his money to Daniel to pay for me in the pit.
I’ll never understand why the price of this—of us—is so high.
“He’ll survive,” he says, tipping my chin with his finger. “It’s what we do.”
The room’s darker than it should be and the cold is rapidly becoming something of the bad variety. I remember us getting home late—after midnight. After the dance. After the Christmas party. I remember coming up the stairs with him and letting Tristian take my dress off. I remember taking off his clothes, mapping out his toned muscles with my curious fingertips. None of them have ever let me do that before—just explore—but Tristian laced his fingers behind his head and laid there while I… discovered him, the arrogant arch of his brow doing nothing to dampen my enjoyment of it. His body is immaculate. A temple, he’d called it. Afterward, I remember his lips on the back of my neck as he curled around me. But nothing else.
“What time is it?” I croak.
Tristian curls his fingers, skating his knuckles over the curve of my breast. “Six.”
“In the morning?” I’m not sure what face I make, but it must be one for the ages, because Tristian actually full-out laughs, shoulders shaking.
“Yes, six in the morning.” He grabs my thigh in a gesture that’s probably thoughtless, but makes my spine tingle with how proprietary it is. “I kind of have plans for the next hour, so I thought you might like to go back to your room. I don’t want to keep you awake with my talking.”
I press my leg into him, enjoying the way he’s massaging my thigh. “Talking?”
“Video call with the twins, so we can open presents together.” He gestures with a nod to his chair in the corner.
“Oh.” There are two very badly wrapped presents sitting in the middle of it, covered in bows and ribbons and glittering stickers. I smile. “Awww.”
He nods. “Yeah, they went a bit hog-wild on the trimmings.”
Suddenly, it hits me, and I rub a hand down my face. “God, you should have stayed the night over there with them instead of carting me all the way back here.”
“Not a chance in hell.” He tips down to kiss me, and even though he hovers there, pinching my bottom lip between his, he doesn’t deepen it. He pulls back to look at me with those blue eyes, and it might be the first time I’ve ever seen him like this: sleep-mussed and soft, a pillow crease still branded into his cheek. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”
I’m not sure how the same man who has the power to turn my blood to ice can also melt my insides so effectively, but that’s what he’s done. I’m sure there’s more to say. I can see it in his eyes as they search my face, the litany of things he wants to give to me. It hasn’t escaped my notice that he hasn’t said it back.
“I think I might love you.”
But I didn’t say it hoping he would. The moment was more a gift to myself than one to him.
“It might be mine, too,” I say, pouting. “Except the part where you’re kicking me out of your bed. And before the sun’s even risen, at that.”
He frowns. “I’m not kicking you out. I just know you’re tired. We only went to sleep a few hours ago.”
“I know,” I assure him, turning into his body. “I’ll go. Just let me work up to it. My bed’s going to be all cold.” I whimper at the thought of sliding between the chilly sheets.
“Hmm.” He cups the back of my head in his palm, giving my hair a stroke. “I’m sure we can find somewhere warm for you to cuddle up for a few hours. Come on.”
With that, he rips the blanket away, making me yelp at the sudden rush of frigid air. I cover my breasts uselessly, fixing him with a glower. “You know, a girl could feel a little cast aside here!”