Page 68 of An Undisputed Christmas

Jax and Estelle disappeared arm in arm, the soft click of their bedroom door accompanied by Estelle’s sleepy sigh and Jax’s low promise of a Christmas nap.

Wade’s soft laughter and Jovie’s teasing faded from the other room as the house surrendered to the gravity of rest.

Even the kitchen was still. The scent of baking lingered—cinnamon, sugar, roasted chestnuts, the faint sweet traces drifting through opendoorways, wrapping the house.

The only light now came from the windows and the tree, its flicker painting the ceiling with golden shapes.

Sierra was in my arms, tired and soft, cheeks flushed from hot chocolate overload and victory at whatever pajama-clad game she’d last played at the kitchen table.

I gathered her up, small and precious, a weight I’d never tire of, and carried her slowly up through the hush. The hallway upstairs was a ribbon of warmth, the door to our room slightly ajar from Toffee’s ins and outs.

She was soft and warm, like a well-loved pillow, her head rocking gently on my chest, breathing peppered with sleep-mumbles. “My belly’s too full,” she managed, voice worn but content, “and... and where’s Toffee?”

I smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her tousled head. “He’s with the kids, making sure there’s nothing edible escaping inventory. Ruling his kingdom even in sleep.”

That pulled a half-laugh from her and a little squirm, just enough to remind me she was sensitive, ticklish. The sheets were cool when I set her down, but her skin was radiating heat—warm from her cheeks down to her stomach, a sugar high tapering into something lazier.

She curled into me as I sat beside her, her body tucking itself under my arm, legs tangled shamelessly across my lap, toes pressing against my thigh. Her fingers found my shirt, twisting, her small grip oddly fierce for someone so tired.

I rested my hand on her belly, thumb tracing gentle circles, feeling where soft skin had gone taut with too much cocoa and cinnamon rolls.

“Connor...” she murmured, voice thick, plea like a confession. “Don’t touch my belly, please.”

I couldn’t help the low laugh that slipped out—more a rumble of adoration than amusement. “But I love your belly, sweet girl.”

I shifted, settling beside her so I could press my lips to the gentle curve of her stomach. Her top bunched up under my chin, her fingers reflexively dancing into my hair.

She shivered at the first kiss, warmth blossoming beneath my lips as I traced her with slow, lazy affection.

She tilted her head, watching me through half-lidded eyes, lips twisting between embarrassment and delight as my stubble rasped across her soft skin.

“Don’t—” she started again, but her protest dissolved into a soft hum as I traced another pattern, tongue swirling slowly, lips planting a trail that made her shudder and arch.

I slid my hands up her ribs, palms wide and grounding, feeling her flutter and tremble under my touch. The sweetness in the air shifted, thickened, grew heavier as she let her body melt into mine, her resistance melting with it.

Her fingers carded through my hair, nails skimming my scalp, tugging gently, keeping me close. My mouth followed a winding path up to her ribs, nipping, soothing, kissing again, until I could feel her heartbeat racing beneath the thin fabric.

She curled tighter, thighs brushing my hip, until every part of us was tangled—heat and shyness, and the secret laughter that only lived in these quiet moments.

I pressed my lips to the center of her belly one more time, firmer, as if sealing a secret, before sliding up beside her.

She let out the smallest whimper, fingers burrowing under the fabric at the back of my neck, holding me fast.

Her eyes met mine, bright and sleep-glazed but no less sharp for it. “I love you,” she whispered, small and thunderous in the hush.

I smiled, unending affection curling in my chest. “I love you. More than I ever thought possible. More than every Christmas before this or after, put together.”

She smiled softly, mischievously, infinitely precious. “You’re cheesy when you’re sleepy, Connor.”

“I’m dangerous when I’m cheesy,” I murmured, leaning in to kiss her again, slow and deep, a promise, a thank you, and a marking all in one.

My hands mapped her hips, traced her waist, up to her sternum. Her lips parted to meet mine, soft and searching, tongue brushing against my own, setting off sparks.

She pulled me close, her touch gentle and greedy, and I let myself getlost in her, kissing her again: her mouth, her jaw, her hair, down the line of her neck.

Every spot that drew a gasp or a whispered plea got repeated attention, the taste of her still sweet from home and trust.

She matched me, kissing along my jaw, fingers threading through my hair, thumb caressing the skin she’d memorized. Her hands tugged me down until I was half on top of her, half encasing her.

We moved together, slow, lazy—just two lovers exploring every inch, learning the lyrics of love for the thousandth time but singing it like it was new. It was tender and raw, every sigh a secret, every moan a memory.

I watched her slip into sleep, the happiest, bravest, sweetest girl I’d ever known.

If this were the end, I was at peace. If it were the beginning, I was ready for more.

Everything I’d ever fought for, everything I’d ever wanted, was right here—curled against my chest, breathing softly, holding the whole world together with nothing but sweetness and a smile.

The love was undisputed, the story ours.

And here, at last, I found my forever.