Christmas on the Thirteenth Floor

by Lee Jacquot

Things aren’t always going to be pretty, dove. Some things we get excited about, and work very hard to create, don't always match up to our expectations. Sometimes, it’s even a little scary. But at the end of the day, as long as you did the best you could, be proud. Because I’m sure as heck proud of you. And who knows, maybe one day, you’ll move somewhere where the snow is soft, and you can make a real snowman.

Two little words. One phrase. Good girl.

He’s never looked more like a God than in this moment, and I think Hades himself would relinquish the throne if Roman looked at him with the same dark gaze he’s currently setting my skin on fire with.

“I purchased this dress for you because I knew how it would look on you.” He pauses, lowering his hand to lightly grip around my neck. “And I knew how it would look when thrown on the floor.”

“When you show me that you can be a good girl, I’ll reward you. That’s how this game works.”

“I like on days when you’re feeling down, I can always get you to smile with a simple piece of Lindor’s chocolate.”

“Why just me? Why do I have to be the one to say if we continue?” He begins rolling up one of his sleeves, showcasing his corded forearms inch by tortuous inch. “Because I’ve already decided.” “And that is?” His eyes darken as he pauses his movement, stealing my ability to even breathe properly. “You're mine.”

“I’d like to live everyday as if it’s Christmas on the thirteenth floor if it means doing this with you.”