At the sound of her voice, my shoulders relax and my heart thumps against my sternum. Those three words are all it takes to lift my mood.

  “Hi, baby girl.” I pull Savannah into my chest. I’ve barely gotten a look at her, and I couldn’t describe what she’s wearing if asked, but with her in my arms, my entire being settles.

  Pulling back, she presses her hands to my cheeks. “You okay?”

  With a sigh, I lean into her touch and force a smile. “Just an off night. But I’m good now.”

  Those green eyes of hers dance over my face. I’ve never wanted to be seen more than I do in this moment.

  “You know,” she says, “I’m kind of tired. Would you mind if we didn’t stick around too long?”

  A mixture of relief and a little guilt swirls in my chest. “You sure? I just got here. I’m good to hang for a bit.”

  She fakes a yawn. The move is so fucking adorable, her gesture so sweet, that I actually feel the moment I fall for her. I thought I knew what she meant to me when I didn’t totally freak out over the baby stuff, but it goes deeper than that. No one has ever seen me the way she does. No one has ever been so naturally attuned to me. Hell, no one has ever even tried. Even if they had, it would have been in vain. I realize now that no one but her could have touched this part of me.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry for being a downer, but honestly I’d love to just snuggle with you. I think I’ve over-peopled. Maybe we can watch a rom-com and laugh for a bit before bed?” Her brows lift and she offers me a smile.

  “Yeah, baby girl, we can do that.” My answer comes out scratchy, heat building behind my eyes. That’s exactly what I need. She’s exactly what I need.

  We leave the Langfields’ house without much fanfare. Normally, I’m one of the last to leave, which Gavin is quick to point out when I stop to wish him a Merry Christmas and say goodbye.

  “She seems good for you,” he says, eyeing her as she slips into her coat in the foyer.

  I laugh. “Because she’s as young as your wife was when you two got together.”

  He chuckles. “Some of us just have to wait for our soulmates to grow up.”

  A bark of a laugh escapes me. “Sick, man.”

  When his wife walks by and gives him a little wave, he sobers up quickly. “A happy man. And you deserve to be too. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas.” With one last pat to his shoulder, I take off toward the woman who really does make me happy.

  She lets me take her hand, and then I guide her out into the frigid night.

  “Good news,” she tells me as we walk to my car.

  Under the moonlight, she glimmers, making it impossible to look away.

  I stumble over my own feet but catch myself before going down. “What’s that, baby girl?”

  She bites back a laugh and shakes her head. “The Donovans got the Barbie house put together. They don’t need our help.”

  “So I get you all to myself?” I ask as I open her door.

  “Yup.” She loops an arm around my neck and presses her lips to mine. What starts as a chaste kiss quickly becomes heated, and when she moans into my mouth, I clutch her ass and pull her tight to my body, deepening the connection.

  “Fuck, I needed you tonight,” I admit, dragging in a breath of her.

  She rests a hand over my pounding heart. “I’m right here.”

  Forehead pressed to hers, I close my eyes and relish her closeness. “You are.”

  “Come on, Daddy. Let’s get you home.”

  Her words have their intended effect, making me chuckle. But internally, I’m a mess, my instincts screaming at me to tell her how I really feel in this moment. I rein them in and tuck them away for now, but damn is it tempting to let the words slip. To give her my truths.

  I’ve fallen for you. Don’t leave me. I can’t lose anyone else.

  THIRTY

  SAVANNAH

  “No peeking.” I spin and peer over my shoulder, checking the straps in the mirror.

  “How could I peek?” he asks, his tone still on the grumpy side. “You’ve got the door closed.”

  He’s been off tonight, so while I’d planned to save this until we were at his place next week so I could incorporate the poles in the basement, I knew I couldn’t wait. When he walked into Beckett’s looking drained and practically beaten down, it was easy to change plans. I don’t really need a pole for this, and I want our first Christmas to be special. And this outfit? It’s definitely special.

  “Sit down on the bed. Make yourself comfortable,” I tell him through the door. “And close your eyes.”

  He chuckles. “Baby girl, what are you doing?”

  “I’m making you smile. And there’s a good chance you’ll come, so perk up, Daddy. Tonight is just getting started.”

  I lit a few candles when we arrived, then turned off the lights. Since that kiss outside his car, Camden has been looking at me differently. Like what we have goes deeper than it should, since we haven’t known each other long. And I’ve given up pretending I don’t feel that way too. I’m in this. I’m going to put myself out there.

  I open the door and peek out, and when I confirm he’s got his eyes shut, I dart past him and sit in front of the Christmas tree, my legs tucked beneath me. The tree is small. It had to be in order to fit in my tiny apartment, but I have a feeling the gift he’s about to receive will be one he won’t ever forget.

  “You can open your eyes now,” I say sweetly.

  He obeys, and when he zeroes in on me, he breaks into a wicked grin.

  “Merry Christmas, Daddy.”

  Without a word, he stalks toward me. The swagger in his step makes my belly warm and tight.

  “Are you my present, baby girl?” he asks as he drinks me in, examining the green fabric banded around me the same way the ribbons covered the dancers the night we met. My breasts are far bigger than any of the women that night, so the silk barely covers more than my nipples, but that’s fine by me.

  Popping up onto my knees, I lean forward so he can see the bow that barely covers my ass. “Depends. Have you been naughty this year?”

  “Very.” The word is like sandpaper as it leaves him. He bends at the waist and brushes a finger over the ribbon stretched across my back. The gentle touch makes me shiver. “Where’d you get this?” He pulls at the fabric, and when it stretches easily, he hums and stands straight, looming over me.

  I brace myself with my hands on my thighs and stare up at him. Like this, kneeling at his feet while he stares down at me like I’m the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, I’m awash with a contentment I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced.

  “Online. I got two: one red, one green. My original plan looked a little different, but I improvised.”

  He smirks, his face cast in shadow. “Two?”

  I lick my lips. “Yes. That was going to be part of your Christmas present. My friend Kacie was going to join us.”

  His eyes flare with what could be heat or jealousy. Either way, it makes my pulse pick up.

  “You’ve spoken to her about this?” he asks carefully.

  Nodding, I bite down on my lip. “But when I really thought about it, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share you.”

  The expression that crosses his face this time is easy to decipher. It’s delight. Pleasure. Pride. “That’s good, because as hot as that sounds, baby girl, I don’t want to be shared.”

  “Don’t even want to watch?” I whisper, face tipped up, my hair tickling my bare back.

  He arches a brow. “And what would I be watching?”

  The desire stirring in my belly ignites as I consider how to paint the erotic scene for him. Sometimes the dirtiest thoughts alone can get me off, and I guarantee the one I’m imagining will work wonders for him too. “Go sit on the bed and I’ll show you.”

  He swallows, the sound audible, a hint of unease in his eyes.

  “She’s not here,” I promise.

  He nods once and takes a step back. But rather than walk away, he hovers lower, and with a hand to my jaw, he brings his mouth to mine. “You are the most perfect gift I’ve ever received.”

  I smile against his mouth and then lick at his lips. “And I’m just getting started.” With that, I push him back.

  He groans, staggering a little, his focus firmly fixed on me.

  “Go, baby,” I murmur.

  A flash of pleasure mixed with pain crosses his face, like his heart has cracked wide open.

  I ignore it for now. That’s not what we’re doing tonight. I’m taking his mind off the emotions, keeping him here in the moment with me.

  When he finally settles on the edge of the bed, as close to me as he can get while still following my instructions, I tip forward, and on my hands and knees, I prowl toward him. Ass up, back arched, eyes never leaving his.

  “Fuck,” he drawls, the word low and deep.

  My core clenches in response to the heat in his voice.

  When I reach him, I set a palm on each of his thighs. “If she were here,” I say, “I’d make you watch us first. I’d lay her back beside you and I’d kneel like I am right now, between her thighs. I’d tell her to play with her pretty tits. I’d slide the fabric between her legs over an inch and lick her cunt while you watched.”

  Camden’s throat bobs, his jaw clenching.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I tilt my head. “Watching me fuck her with my tongue?”

  Nostrils flaring, he nods.

  I flex my fingers over his thighs and lean forward. “Would you take your cock out while you watched us?”

  “Yes.” The word rushes out of him in a breath.

  “Do it. Now,” I tell him. “Show me how you’d fist yourself while I played with Kacie.”

  With a grunt, he squeezes his eyes shut. “Don’t say her name.”

  A thrill courses through me. “Jealous, are we?” I tease.

  He’s clumsy and gruff as he removes his belt and tugs down his pants. I lean back to give him room to remove them, but he leaves them pooled at his ankles and fists himself. He’s fully erect, veins bulging, looking damn near angry. “Impossibly when it comes to you.”

  I return to my position and caress his thighs, soothing him. “Then it’s a good thing I’m just talking you through it.”

  He heaves a loud breath, his expression clearing a little. “Then what would you do?”

  I smile. “I’d tell her to suck your cock. I’d want to see it. See if she could swallow you like I do. See if she could please you like I do.”

  “She couldn’t. No one can,” he says gruffly, slowly pumping over the barbells and ring at his crown.

  “Then maybe you’d rather watch her please me. Would you prefer it if I took you into my mouth while she made me come?”

  He grunts and shakes his head. “I’m the only one who gets to taste you.”

  “So possessive,” I tsk. “But fine. Then I’d ride your face while she sucked you off. Sorry. If she were here, you’d have to choose one.”

  He laughs, the rough, dark sound making me ache between my thighs. “Suck me, baby girl.” He brings his crown to my lips and drags it back and forth.

  I lick up the wetness, moaning when the taste of him hits my tongue.

  “Fuck my throat,” I urge him.

  The laugh he lets out this time is lighter. “Always making me do all the work.”

  I grin and then stick out my tongue, waiting.

  Eyes blazing, he fists my hair at the back of my head. Then he stands and slides himself all the way into my mouth, only stopping when he hits the back of my throat.

  Tears prick my eyes as I gag around him.

  He hums in response to the sound. “There’s my perfect whore. I love when you’re a slut, baby girl, but only for me.”

  Gaze locked with his, I swallow around him.

  A low moan rumbles out of him. “Fucking perfect. Look at you, dressed like a Christmas present, tits barely covered, pussy drenching the ribbon. You’re a complete mess.” He sets a rhythm, his every thrust rough.

  There’s no way my throat won’t be raw come morning, but I love every single second of it. I squeeze my thighs together, hoping the damp ribbon running between my legs will give me a little friction.

  When he swells in my mouth and lets out a curse, I palm his balls, massaging them, dragging a whole slew of expletives out of him. Words ragged, he pulls me in until my nose hits his stomach. Then he comes down my throat.

  Focus fixed on my face, he blows out a long breath. Then he releases my hair and breaks into a blinding smile. “Jesus fuck, Savannah, I think you just sucked my soul out of my body.”

  I swipe a thumb against my lip and smile. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Get up here.” He slides his arms under mine and hauls me onto the bed. Then he crawls over me and takes my mouth in a rough kiss and spears me with a finger. “You’re soaked.”

  I nod against his mouth, gasping at the intrusion.

  “Is this what she would do to you? Would she fuck you with her fingers?” He pushes up on his other elbow and watches the way his fingers disappear inside me.

  The heat low in my belly extends outward, moving through my extremities. It feels too good. The dirty images he’s painting, the way he’s playing with me. It’s all too good.

  “Yes.”

  “And you like that. You wanted to do that for me?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulls his fingers out of me and flops onto his back. Then he drags me over his body and positions me so I’m straddling his shoulders. With his teeth, he tugs at the fabric barely covering me. Then he sucks my clit into his mouth.

  I throw my head back, a scream ripping from me, my pussy already pulsing. I’m going to come and he’s barely touched me.

  “I don’t think I could handle it unless I was inside you,” he grits out.

  I grind against his face, desperate for more.

  But he clutches my thighs, holding me in place. “I’d need to bury myself between these thighs. Would she like that? My cock wedged tightly into this pussy? Would she eat you while I fucked you?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he sucks my clit into his mouth again, and a wave of bliss washes over me. I come with a scream, the sensation only building when he bites down on the sensitive bud, then tongues it while he spears me with two fingers.

  My vision is still spotty when he pulls me down his body and enters me in one rough thrust, then fucks me with a fierceness that borders on angry. “Would she, baby girl? Is that what you want? Someone else here to please you? Am I not enough?”

  I convulse around him, my whole body shaking, one orgasm bleeding into the next. My vision goes black in earnest now. I don’t know how I’ll survive this feeling, yet I never want it to end. From this angle, the barbell at his base teases my clit, setting off another orgasm. This one is slower, more like a rolling wave, and I ride it out, grinding my pelvis against him.

  “You’re everything,” I sob, my lungs burning, my breaths choppy.

  He swells inside me, and with his big hands gripped tightly around my thighs, holding me tight to him, he releases. This time when he comes, he does it with a quiet groan because our mouths are fused and neither one of us wants to let go.

  We breathe each other in. We breathe for each other.

  THIRTY-ONE

  CAMDEN

  This may come as a surprise, but I laughed when I read Calliope’s Column. The one I couldn’t dredge up enough energy to look at when Noah sent it to me. I finally scrolled the article while lying in bed, Savannah asleep in my arms, when I couldn’t get my mind to quiet.

  My thoughts were jumbled after my hellish day and the incredible evening. I was restless despite how exhausted my body was.

  When I laughed out loud at the column, Savannah barely moved. She let out the tiniest sigh, her warm breath hitting my neck, and I pressed a kiss to her forehead and kept reading.

  It took less than ten seconds to determine that Savannah had written the article. And it was obviously about me.

  Calliope’s Column

  It’s Not Him, It’s You (Kind Of)

  Rule Number 6: Don’t Sync Your Ovulation Calendars Before the First Date.

  I thought this would be the deal-breaker. It should have been. Ladies, this is not me telling you to pull a stunt like this. Seriously, you’d have to be off your rocker to even think about allowing a man to knock you up before you’ve gone on a first date. Sex on the first date, debatably hot; ovulation calendars, not so much.

  So when I tell you that the man I’m seeing didn’t so much as blink, and he most certainly didn’t dump me, this is not me paving the way for you. I know I’ve told you that I’m not the exception, but here’s the thing I’m quickly learning: he is.

  He’s a man who knows what he wants. Who is there for the people who need him. He’s fiercely protective too. My man—and yes, I’m claiming him; he didn’t dump me and now I won’t let him—always gives the people he cares about what they want. So I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me that when I told him I wanted his baby, he shrugged like it was no big deal.

  I’m not sure what, if anything, I’m teaching you through these columns anymore, but I’ll keep doing them and reminding you to be patient and wait for the exceptional man. When you find him, there’s a good chance that the rules won’t matter so much. Until then, it’s not him, it’s you. (Kind of.)

  X,

  Calliope

  When I finished that column, I went back and read every one she’s written on this subject. I was worried, at first, that she started this before she met me. And though I don’t give a shit about who she was with in the past, I had no interest in reading about her with other men. Being teased about her with another woman: hot. Reading about her real dates with another man: enraging.

  Fortunately, I seem to be her only victim. Yes, that’s what she called me in her first article.

  That’s fine. I’ll be her victim any day of the week if it means I get to wake up with her in my arms.