The hotel room door clicked shut behind you with a soft thump, muffling the sound of the Christmas market below. You could still hear faint music drifting up. A violin, people laughing, the rhythmic clinking of mugs but it all felt far away now.

Simon pulled off his gloves by the door, shaking snow from the shoulders of his coat.

“Hell of a night,” he muttered, but there was a smile behind the words. The kind he only let out on vacation. The kind he didn’t have time for back home.

You laughed, kicking off your boots. “You’re the one who wanted to stay till the fireworks.”

“Aye. Worth it,” he said without hesitation.

The room was warm, lit by one lamp and the soft orange glow from the street. Your coats and scarves smelled like cinnamon, cold wind, and roasted nuts from the stalls. It had been your third day here, a quiet Christmas getaway you’d both desperately needed.

You walked toward the window to look out one more time. Snow was still falling, drifting slowly onto the rooftops and lights below.

You didn’t hear Simon come up behind you.

But you felt him.

His arms slid around your waist, steady and warm, pulling you back into him. His chest pressed against your back, solid and familiar. You almost melted into him on instinct.

“You warm enough?” he murmured, voice lower than the soft hum of the heater.

“I think so.” You leaned into him anyway.

“That’s not an answer.”

Before you could come up with one, he dipped his head, brushing a slow kiss against the side of your neck. Gentle, his breath warm against your skin.