He held his hands out, as if to say, this is me, and I loved this person he was just as much as I loved the Bailey I’d grown up with, the one who was in all my dreams.
“Can I?” I asked, and he nodded. I skimmed my fingers from his chest to waist, closing my eyes at the feel of silk and the way the boning held the shape of him, then I walked around him in a slow circle, tracing a pattern onto his skin and the silk. “You’re the most beautiful man I have ever seen.” I stopped behind him, and then turned him so he was facing the tall closet mirror. That was us, me and him, reflected there. Me, big, dark-haired, dressed, and him, such a vision of beauty, his curls hanging to his shoulders, his gaze fixed on mine in the mirror. “Stay there,” I asked, not so much a command as a plea. Then I reached for the silk panties that the shop assistant said matched the corset. I didn’t want her to be wrong, and I crouched by his feet, helping him into the scrap of silk and easing it up his legs, stopping for a moment to mouth at his erection through the material, marveling at the way it dampened and showed every inch of him.
Then, I moved behind him again, rested my hands on his hips, trailed my touch to his belly and down over his erection.
“What do you want?” I asked. “What can I do for you? Can I love you?” I pushed against his cock, my fingers damp.
He pressed his head back on my shoulder. “Please.”
His cock strained against the yellow silk, damp, his hands loose at his sides.
“You are the most precious thing to me,” I murmured with a kiss to his shoulder. “Look at you. Look at us.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, and then I stepped away and slipped off my clothes, until in just my boxers, I was behind him. He sighed as I slotted back in place, my own erection hard against his lower spine. Snow hit the window; gusts of wind blew under the eaves. He shivered, and I buried my face in his hair, inhaling the scent of apples, and wrapping his curls around one hand.
“You look like an angel. Beautiful,” I whispered against his skin. “Mine,” I added as we began to move. For a moment, he turned to me, and I cradled his head, bending him backward as if he was a heroine in an old movie; and we smiled and laughed, and I loved him with my lips and tongue, and then turned him to face the mirror again. I was so close, and the tip of his cock was above the line of the panties. I stroked him, the lace touching everywhere, and he groaned low in his throat.
“No one has ever seen this, no one.”
“I’m honored you let me,” I whispered, and he shivered again. “Are you cold?” The room was warm, but the silk over his ass was damp, and I wanted him to love every sensual touch, not be cold and desperate for warmth.
“No, I’m just…” he moved, his hand trailing up the corset, playing with one of the hooks, then up more to his nipples, touching himself, and closing his eyes.
“Open your eyes, Angel,” I murmured, covering his hand with mine, and then lacing our fingers.
“It won’t be real,” he said, and he sounded desperate.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart, tell me how you feel.”
Finally, I saw him in the mirror, and his gaze met mine as he slumped a little and let me take his weight.
“Oh god,” he murmured, “it’s everything.”
“Is it soft?”
He leaned his head back and we kissed, the slide of the gloss on my lips, the softness of his curls against my cheek, and I was impossibly hard.
“So soft, so perfect… I dreamed of this.”
“I’ll be with you every day, Bailey, my angel.” I pressed my arm across his chest, holding him firm, as he gasped and slid back against me. I could come like this, pressed to the silk on his ass, watching him come in the mirror of this quiet bedroom, with the snow and the scent of apples.
“Kai, tighter,” he said, and I strengthened my hold on him, using both hands to hold him unmoving, so close to coming just at the whimpered plea. “I’m coming… Kai.”
He let out a soft sound, a quiet, still thing, and then I felt him hot and wet, over my hand, the silk, and my own orgasm hit so hard I tumbled both of us back onto the bed, falling there, and holding him tight with a languorous warmth.
“When we kiss, snow swirls in my head and angels sing,” he murmured against my chest, then snuggled into my hold.
He didn’t say he loved me, but this moment was so special.
This moment was everything.
The insistent sound of a phone pulled me awake, and it hit me that we’d fallen asleep, entwined in each other’s arms, him still in the corset, and me in my boxers, twisted in the covers that one or both of us had tried to pull over us.
“It’s my alarm,” he whispered, “sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I shifted my hold of him to pull him up for a kiss, but he laughed and pushed me away.
“I want to brush my teeth before more kisses.” Then he winced and looked down at the corset. “Also, I want to put this away safe.”
I let him scramble away, stop the insistent alarm, and go to the bathroom, me following closely and taking the proffered spare toothbrush. I got with the plan, finished in the bathroom, helped him unlace the corset, and then when we were done, we climbed back into bed, and held each other closer, with the quilt over the top of us, cozy and warm, and ready for the talk.
Yep, I expected a talk, boundaries, expectations, all the things that made a relationship.
Only that never happened. Bailey snuggled back into me and dozed off on my chest, and I felt like the most powerful, most caring man alive.
His alarm woke us both again, and this time, we couldn’t go back to sleep, because he had to work, and I wanted to help him.
Or at least, I volunteered, and it wasn’t so much me helping with anything except lifting and carrying things from Bailey’s workshop and piling everything at the door. The Christmas Market opened tomorrow, and he wanted to be ready, and to be honest, I’d have done just about anything for him. Plus, tonight was the Parade of Light, and he had last minute issues to deal with, plus a ton of checklist things to do with his brothers. I owed them all an explanation of what had happened between Bailey and me. They might have all been taking bets on when I revealed I loved Bailey, but now that it had happened, maybe things would be awkward?
Oh well, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
It was ten a.m. before I even thought to check my phone, knowing Dad was aware I wasn’t going back after I’d told him it was a very real possibility that I might be out all night.
He’d clapped my shoulder when I told him, and got teary-eyed, talked about me and Bailey, and how we were inevitable.
Seemed like everyone did have an opinion on Bailey and me after all.
But when I got to check my phone, which I’d left on silent, it was blowing up—I had over twenty missed calls, text, chats, and only when I read the first few messages did it hit me that I’d forgotten it was Sunday and the press release went out today.
Turned out, it wasn’t that important in my head next to loving and wanting Bailey.
“Are you okay?” he asked from across the room, a large box of stock in his hands. I took the box from him.
“Press release went out,” I said, and rested the new box on the pile of others.