A Deal With The Devil: A Steamy Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

wants something this much, and that the thing is me, is nothing short of a miracle. “Yes,” I finally whisper. His face breaks into a wide, relieved smile, and he tugs me against him.

“You’re sure?” he asks. “You haven’t even seen the ring yet.”

“It doesn’t matter what the ring looks like,” I reply.

“Jonathan said the diamond was too big,” he says. “I suggested you quite like big things.”

I laugh shakily. “Did you really just allude to your dick in a marriage proposal?”

“You already said yes,” he says with a quick grin, as he pulls my mouth to his. “You can’t take it back.”

I don’t plan to.

THE END

says, burying his face into my hair. “I wasn’t about to miss our first Christmas together.”

“But how? You were still texting me from the airport two hours ago.”

“Yes. I just didn’t mention the airport was in Dallas,” he says, “although I was sure your mother wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret.”

“I missed you,” I tell him, laying my head against his chest. I squeeze him tighter, breathing in the smell of his soap and skin. I want him home and undressed. I wonder how much time we have before my family gets back.

“This is pretty spectacular,” he says, nodding at the street stretched out before us. “A rather nice place to propose, even.”

I freeze and pull back just enough to see if he’s joking. His eyes are earnest, a little worried. And then he reaches into the pocket of his coat and withdraws a black velvet box.

He swallows. “I’ve never done this part before. I’m...surprisingly anxious.”

His hair has fallen over his forehead. I reach up and brush it to the side. “I think you have nothing to worry about.”

He catches my hand. “I’ve been in love with you, I think, since the day I saw you reading in the rain as you walked into work,” he says. He presses the box to my palm and covers it with his own. His eyes hold mine, and there’s urgency there, as if nothing in the world matters more than my answer. He swallows. “Marry me. Please marry me.”

I want to tease him about the fact that he’s finally said please, but I can’t. That he

The service begins. All the little shepherds and angels come forward and Kaitlin scrambles from my lap to her mom’s, at one point standing straight up and shouting, “I can’t see!” just as the wise men approach.

Hayes would laugh if he were here, and then he’d remind me that we won’t have kids unless I can promise they’ll be better behaved than Kaitlin. Given that she’s now lying in the aisle and chanting “boring, boring, boring” at the top of her lungs, it feels like a reasonable demand.

Communion begins, and my mother leans over and asks me to go get the car. “It’s been snowing the whole time,” she says. “I’m worried about my leg on the way back.”

I’m not sure why she can’t ask Alex to do this, but with a sigh, I grab my coat and purse and walk outside.

I stop on the top step and take it all in—the lights in the trees, the fresh blanket of snow, the velvet sky, wishing Hayes could see it. It really is beautiful. There will be other years, I tell myself.

“You’re sure you’ll be able to give all this up?” asks a voice from the darkness.

Hayes. Standing just a few feet to my left.

I launch myself at him, my throat swelling with the urge to cry, hugging him, kissing him, inhaling him in a way he’s come to expect. “You’re here?!”

His arms band tight around me. It’s only been a week since I saw him last, but it’s a long time for us. And he knows exactly how unbearable it’s been because I’ve told him so, every single night. “Of course,” he