“This is my favorite birthday ever,” he murmurs against my skin. “What? It’s your birthday?” “Mhmm. For another two minutes, at least. New Year’s baby, freshly twenty-seven. Feels a lot like the first day of my life, though.” “Happy birthday,” I breathe, heart pounding at the feel of him pressed against me, his fingers dancing down my hair. “What did you get?” His palm settles in the curve of my lower back, his whisper pressed to my ear. “You.”
