Virgin Daiquiri - Elise Faber Page 0,36

birth control and I’m also clean—and I’m guessing you are, too—that maybe I might let you come inside me.”

And just like that, hard.

And just like that, on my toes.

And just like that, all of my fears slipped away.

Because I had this woman in my life.

And I wasn’t letting her go.

“Hey,” I murmured, much, much later. “Want to hear a funny story?”

“Besides the fact that I still haven’t regained feeling in my legs?” she asked drowsily. Round Two had been even more intense than Round One.

Which was saying something.

“That, I think, is far from funny,” I said, nuzzling her throat. “That, I think, is the best compliment I’ve ever had.”

“You mean the best compliment ever isn’t me telling you that you pour a mean glass of Merlot?”

I grinned, lightly bit the spot where her shoulder met her neck, loving that when I did, she moaned softly and lifted her hand to rest on the back of my head, fingers digging in slightly. “Aside from that,” I murmured against her skin.

“Then, is it too soon to say that I think you were messing with me when you said you were a virgin because that’s how good you are?”

I laughed. “No,” I said. “That’s me mentally chalking that up into the Best Compliments Ever column.”

“Then what’s the funny story?” she asked lazily.

“This.” I reached over her and pulled out the tiny package from my nightstand. Not a condom this time, I thought with a grin. But a tiny parcel I’d gone to three grocery stores at the butt crack of dawn to find.

Turned out, it was difficult to track down when it was after Christmas.

But I had, and I’d intended to bring it to Iris that very day.

Only she’d beat me to the punch by coming to me.

Why did I think that wouldn’t be the first time it happened, her beating me to the punch?

I handed her the palm-sized package that I’d wrapped in cheerful Christmas paper—penguins wearing hats and skis as they made their way down a silver mountain top.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Really?” I dropped a kiss on her lips. “Just open it.”

“Fine, fine,” she grumbled, tearing at the corner gently. “You know,” she said as she painstakingly pulled the tape free, “you gave me my only two Christmas presents this year.”

Fucking hell.

This woman destroyed me.

“I love you,” I murmured against her lips.

She smiled when I pulled back. “I love you, too.” Then went back to work, slowly removing another piece of tape.

“Are you going to open that sometime this century?” I grumbled.

“I’m savoring it,” she said, daintily working at one corner.

And then because I couldn’t stand how slowly she was opening the present and also because I vowed to buy her so many presents the next year that she wouldn’t even be able to count them all, I snatched the package from her hands, tore off the paper, and handed it back to her.

Her lips parted in surprise when she saw the sprig of mistletoe. “Oh.”

“I know it’s hardly anything,” I said, thinking now that maybe I should have spent my time buying her something that had cost more than two dollars in the clearance section.

She deserved diamonds and fancy trips and—

Iris launched herself into my arms, hooking her own around my neck and squeezing hard. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s perfect.”

Then the tears came.

And I discovered I didn’t mind her blue-green eyes filled with tears, after all.

Especially when I got to hold her tight when they came.

Then coax her into Round Three when they stopped.

We each had spent far too long not living our lives fully, and I vowed to make sure we would both grab on to every chance to make up for that lost time.

Later, after I’d had a huge slice of Iris’s incredible nine-layer cake, I also realized I’d need many more Rounds in order to work off all the extra sweetness that was sure to fill my life.

But that was something I was wholly on board with.

Epilogue

Part One

Iris, One Year Later, Christmas Day

I was swaying to the music, singing along with the lyrics to Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas when I smelled it.

“Oh no!” I tossed the popcorn and cranberry garland I was stringing and sprinted into the kitchen.

Only to find black smoke pouring out of the oven.

“Shit!” I muttered, running over to it and snatching out the three full-sized pies.

Full-sized because I was hosting Christmas dinner for Kace, Brooke, Anabelle, Brent, and myself, and I’d decided that four full-sized pies were required, three of