Christmas with My Grumpy Ex (Feuding Hearts Christmas #1)

12. Hearts in Sync

12

HEARTS IN SYNC

ELLIE

I lean over the desk, my eyes scanning the guest list for what feels like the hundredth time. The names blur together, a sea of New York's elite that we've been poring over all afternoon. I can feel Max's presence beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as he points to a name near the bottom of the page.

"Why are you waiting for the Carmichaels?" he asks, his voice low and close to my ear. "They haven't RSVP'd yet."

I suppress a shiver at his proximity, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. "I'll give them a call," I say, jotting down a note. "Patricia said they're usually last-minute deciders, but they never miss a Wellington event."

Max nods, and I catch a hint of a smile on his face. "You've really gotten to know our regulars, haven't you?"

"It's my job," I reply, but I can't help returning his smile. There's something different about Max today, a warmth in his eyes that I haven't seen in a while. It makes my heart flutter, but I push the feeling down. We have work to do.

"Would you consider doing this full time?"

"What? Overseeing The Wellington events."

He nods. "I don't see Carson coming up for air anytime soon. We have the conference center, the 44th, the Skyline, and private events. You could stay busy and have a degree of flexibility for private clients."

"Maybe. Are you offering me a job?"

"Maybe."

"I'll think about it. Let's table the discussion until after the gala."

"Done."

We continue like this for another hour, our heads bent close together over the list, occasionally calling out to the staff bustling around us with last-minute questions and requests. Despite the pressure of tomorrow's gala looming over us, there's a sense of calm in our little bubble. We work well together, anticipating each other's needs and thoughts almost before they're spoken.

As we near the end of the list, I lean back in my chair, stretching my arms above my head. "I think that's everyone," I say, stifling a yawn. "Unless you can think of anyone we've missed?"

Max shakes his head, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. "No, I think we've got it covered. You've done an amazing job, Ellie."

The compliment warms me from the inside out, and I have to look away to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. "Thanks," I murmur. "It's been a team effort."

There's a beat of silence, and when I look back at Max, his expression has softened. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then seems to think better of it. Instead, he glances at his watch and says, "It's getting late. What do you say we call it a day and head out? I promised Amelia we'd take her to the Winter Village at Bryant Park."

My heart leaps at the invitation. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude on your time with Amelia."

Max's hand finds mine under the desk, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You're not intruding," he says softly. "We both want you there."

The sincerity in his voice makes my breath catch. I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and begin gathering my things. As we head out of the office, Max's hand finds the small of my back, guiding me through the busy hotel lobby. It's a simple gesture, but it feels like so much more.

The crisp winter air hits us as we step outside, and I pull my coat tighter around me. Max hails a cab, and soon we're on our way to pick up Amelia from a winter art camp. As we ride, I steal glances at Max, wondering what's changed. He seems more relaxed, more present than he has in days. It gives me hope, but I'm afraid to read too much into it.

When we arrive at the art institute, Amelia comes bounding out, her face lighting up when she sees us both waiting. "Miss Ellie!" she exclaims, throwing her arms around my waist. "You came too!"

I laugh, hugging her back. "Of course I did, sweetie. I wouldn't miss a trip to the Winter Village with you two."

As we make our way to Bryant Park, Amelia chatters excitedly about her day, her hand firmly clasped in mine. Max walks on her other side, and every so often, our eyes meet over Amelia's head. There's a warmth in his gaze that makes my heart skip a beat.

The Winter Village is a wonderland of twinkling lights and festive decorations. Amelia's eyes grow wide as she takes it all in, and I can't help but share in her excitement. We wander through the market stalls, admiring handcrafted ornaments and sipping hot chocolate.

"Look!" Amelia suddenly exclaims, pointing to a stall selling delicate glass ornaments. "Can we get one for the gala tree, Daddy? Please?"

Max smiles indulgently. "Of course, sweetpea. Why don't you pick out your favorite?"

As Amelia carefully examines each ornament, I feel Max's arm slip around my waist. It's such a natural gesture that for a moment, I forget to breathe. I lean into him slightly, savoring the warmth of his body against mine.

"This one!" Amelia declares, holding up a beautiful snowflake ornament that catches the light. "It's perfect!"

"It sure is," I agree, smiling at her enthusiasm. "Should we go hang it on the tree?"

We make our way to the giant Christmas tree at the center of the village. Max lifts Amelia up so she can hang the ornament on a high branch, and I snap a picture with my phone. As I look at the image—Max and Amelia, their faces lit up with joy—I feel a lump form in my throat.

This is everything I've ever wanted, a family to call my own. But our time together is almost over.

After we've admired Amelia's handiwork, we continue our stroll through the village. Max's arm remains around my waist, and Amelia skips ahead of us, pointing out every new wonder she sees. It feels so natural, so right, that I have to remind myself that this isn't real. Or is it?

As the evening wears on and Amelia's energy begins to dwindle, Max suggests we head back to his penthouse for dinner.

"Nothing fancy," he says. "Just something cozy by the fire. What do you say?"

I hesitate for a moment, knowing that being alone with Max in such an intimate setting could be dangerous for my heart. But the hopeful look in his eyes makes my decision for me.

"That sounds perfect," I say softly.

The ride back to Max's penthouse is quiet, with Amelia dozing against my shoulder. As we enter the apartment, Max carries a sleepy Amelia to her room while I hang up our coats. When he returns, there's an intensity in his eyes that makes my pulse quicken.

"She's out like a light," he says, his voice low. "I thought maybe we could have dinner by the fire? Just the two of us?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. As Max moves to the kitchen to prepare our meal, I settle on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, pulling out the scrapbook I've been working on. I flip through the pages, smiling at the memories we've created over the past few weeks.

Max returns with two glasses of wine, handing one to me before sitting down beside me. "What's that?" he asks, nodding towards the book in my lap.

"Oh, just a little project I've been working on," I say, feeling suddenly shy. "I thought it might be nice to have a record of our time together. For Amelia," I add quickly.

Max's expression softens as he leans in to look at the pages. His arm brushes against mine, and I feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. "This is beautiful, Ellie," he murmurs. "Amelia will love it."

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping our wine and looking through the scrapbook together. When we reach the last filled page—a picture of the three of us from earlier today at the Winter Village—Max's hand covers mine.

"Ellie," he says softly, and something in his tone makes me look up. His eyes are intense, filled with an emotion I'm afraid to name. "I need to tell you something."

My heart races as I wait for him to continue. Is this the moment I've been hoping for? Or am I setting myself up for heartbreak again?

Max takes a deep breath, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "These past few weeks with you... they've meant everything to me. And to Amelia. I know we started this as an arrangement, but I can't pretend anymore. I don't want to."

I hold my breath, hardly daring to believe what I'm hearing. "What are you saying, Max?"

He leans in closer, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek. "I'm saying that I want this to be real. You, me, Amelia... I want us to be a family. If that's what you want too."

Tears prick at my eyes as I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Max's lips curve into a smile, and then he's kissing me, soft and sweet and full of promise.

When we break apart, I'm breathless. "Are you sure?" I whisper, needing to hear him say it again.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," Max says, his forehead resting against mine. "I love you, Ellie. I think I always have."

The words I've been longing to hear wash over me like a warm wave. "I love you too," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "So much."

Max pulls me closer, and as our lips meet again, I feel the last of my doubts melt away. This kiss is different from any we've shared before. There's no hesitation, no guilt, just pure love and passion.

As the kiss deepens, Max's hands begin to roam, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I arch into his touch, my own hands exploring the planes of his chest. We break apart, both breathing heavily, and Max's eyes are dark with desire.

"Ellie," he murmurs, his voice husky. "I want you. All of you."

I nod, unable to form words. Max stands, pulling me up with him, and then he's lifting me into his arms. As he carries me towards the bedroom, I wrap my arms around his neck, peppering his jaw with kisses.

Once inside, Max sets me down gently, his hands coming up to frame my face. "Are you sure?" he asks, giving me one last chance to back out.

In response, I reach for the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them one by one. Praying I'm not making a mistake by letting him in.

Max's breath hitches as I push the fabric off his shoulders, revealing his toned chest. His hands find the zipper of my pants, and as he slowly lowers it, I feel a shiver of anticipation run through me.

He removes my clothes as if he's unwrapping a gift.

Then I reach for the buttons of his shirt, my heart pounding. I can feel his gaze on me, intense and hungry. Slowly, I undo the buttons, one by one, revealing the hard planes of his chest.

"I love you, Ellie…"

Hearing the raw desire in his voice sends a rush of heat through me. I let the shirt fall from his shoulders, my hands moving to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palms.

I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to the center of his chest, just above his heart.

His hands come up to frame my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks gently.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for being patient with me."

I pull back to look at him, my eyes searching his. "I love you, too."

I open my mouth to him, our tongues tangling in a dance as familiar as it is exhilarating. My hands move to his shoulders, feeling the hard bunch of his muscles under my fingers.

His taste, his touch, it's like coming home.

With a gentle growl, he lifts me onto the bed, his body covering mine. I can feel the length of him pressed against me, his desire matching my own. His hands move to my hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls me against him.

"Are you ready, baby?," he groans, his lips moving to my neck, placing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

I arch my neck to give him better access, my hands threading through his hair.

"Max," I breathe, my voice shaking. "Please."

He chuckles darkly, his breath hot against my skin. "Not yet, baby. I plan to take my time, and go to sleep next to you."

His mouth continues its path down my body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He pauses at my breasts, his tongue swirling around my nipples, teasing them to hard peaks. I cry out, my back arching off the bed, my hands clutching his head.

"You like that?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

"Yes," I gasp. "Don't stop."

But he does stop, at least temporarily, moving lower, his breath ghosting over my damp core.

"You're so wet for me, Ellie," he says, a note of wonder in his voice. He drags his tongue from the back to the front of my pussy and I about die.

"Please, Max…"

He chuckles again, the sound vibrating against my sensitive flesh. "I've got you, baby," he says. "I'm not going anywhere."

Without another word, he dives in, his tongue swirling around my clit in a figure-eight pattern. I cry out, my back arching off the bed as pleasure courses through me. His hands grip my hips, pulling me closer, and I can feel his breath hot against my skin.

"Oh, God," I moan, my head thrown back. "Max, that feels so good."

He continues to work his magic, his tongue flicking against my clit. Licking and slurping, and I'm writhing beneath him, my hips bucking in time with his movements.

"Max, I'm close," I warn him, my voice shaking. "Don't stop."

But he doesn't stop. Instead, he pushes two fingers inside me, curling them to hit my G-spot. The sensation is overwhelming, and I cry out, my body tensing as I approach the edge.

"Max, I'm going to come," I gasp, my voice hoarse. "Don't stop."

He doesn't stop. In fact, he increases his pace, his tongue moving faster and his fingers thrusting deeper. And then, suddenly, I'm there. Screaming his name, praying I don't wake Amelia or the staff. Pleasure crashing over me, and I feel like jelly.

Max doesn't stop even as I come down from my orgasm. He continues to lick and suck, driving me wild with pleasure. And then, finally, he pulls back, his eyes locked on mine.

"You taste so good, Ellie," he says, his voice thick with desire. "I could do this all night."

Then he crawls up my body, staring into my eyes, and slides inside me, filling me completely.

We both groan at the sensation. I can see the raw need in his eyes, reflecting my own. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, his hips pressing deep into mine.

"Wrap your legs around me," he commands.

I do as he says, my heels digging into his back. He groans again, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he loses himself in the feeling.

"Fuck… That's it, baby," he grits out.

His hands move to my hips, guiding my movements as he sets a relentless pace. I meet him thrust for thrust, my breath coming in short gasps.

Every slide of his cock inside me sends sparks of pleasure through me, building to another explosive climax.

"Come with me baby me…"

And we do. My walls clench around him, my back arching off the bed as I cry out his name. He growls, his release pulsing hot inside me.

We lie there for a moment, our hearts pounding, our breath coming in ragged gasps. I feel his lips press a soft kiss to my shoulder, his arms tightening around me.

We lie in comfortable silence for a while, just basking in each other's presence. But there's still a small part of me that's afraid to fully believe this is real.

"Max," I say softly, "what happens now?"

He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at me. His eyes are soft, filled with love and something else—commitment, maybe.

"Now," he says, "we stop pretending. We build a life together—you, me, and Amelia. If that's what you want."

My heart swells at his words. "It's all I've ever wanted," I whisper.

Max smiles, leaning down to kiss me softly. "Then that's what we'll do. No more fake dating, no more holding back. Just us, figuring it out together."

As we drift off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, I feel a sense of peace. There's still so much to figure out, the gala tomorrow, how we'll tell Amelia, what this means for our future. But for now, I'm content to live in this moment, savoring the feeling of Max's arms around me and the promise of a future together.

Until it all comes crashing around me…