All Madison wants for Christmas is the same person who once wanted her. Free from the shackles of her broken heart, she's finally ready to give love another shot. But is Madi too late to win back the man of her dreams?
SEQUEL to The Heartbreak Hypot...
A/N: Hi guys! Apologies in advance for the length of this chapter. It's one beat, so I wanted to avoid splitting it into two parts. Feel free to stop and come back if you need a little rest ♡ Thanks for reading!
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Sunlight on snow sliced through the cover of sleep.
It was like I'd been placed inside of a crystal, like light was piercing through any ounce of vision I had, covering it in a thick, impenetrable snow-white haze. It was so stark and so blinding that I could've sworn I'd woken up outside, that I was still trapped in the snow after colliding into James on my skis. I thought everything that happened afterward was simply a dream. God knew I'd had plenty of those. But I was too warm, I realized. Far too warm to be coated in snow. My body was covered, draped in blankets and quilts, though I suspected that it wasn't fabric setting my waking limbs on fire.
Slowly, my eyes began adjusting to the light. I felt my heartbeat steady as I took in my surroundings. I felt worry dissipate like mist and relief wash over me like the tide.
I wasn't in the snow. I was in my bed.
But that wasn't all.
James was in my bed. James was in my bed, cloaked in nothing but my silky red sheets. Which meant one thing.
It wasn't a dream.
I turned on my side, careful not to disturb him. He was still sleeping soundly, his back rising and falling in a slow, peaceful motion while snow drifted down from the blue sky outside. I could just see his face peeking through his blond strands, just see the closed eyelids that masked the ocean on the other side.
Before I knew it, a small smile was pulling at my mouth. I tucked my hands under my head, eyeing the lips that had spent the better half of the night wrestling with mine.
This wasn't the first time I'd woken up beside him. The first time was in his dorm room, and it was a total accident. I'd been so embarrassed that I'd practically jumped out of his bed, then raced around the room without giving myself the chance to enjoy how good he looked first thing in the morning.
He looked good first thing in the morning.
Then there was the time on the bus, too, when I'd felt so much guilt for wanting to drink in his sleeping face. A face I'd convinced myself I had no right to enjoy. Lips and skin I told myself I had no right to taste.
Now, there was no rush. There was no embarrassment, no guilt, no shame. There was only time.
I raised my hand, tempted to brush the hair from across his forehead. But my fingers hovered in the air as if scared to touch him, an automatic instinct I hadn't yet learned to switch off.
My heart hammered as I gave into temptation. I swept the hair away, needing to see every inch of what lay underneath. His features were soft, lazy and sweet and alluring all at once. His tanned skin and golden locks were a warm contrast to the cool space—my own personal source of heat in the frigid morning chill.
