Aaron held Mia in his arms, slow dancing across his candlelit living room to Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas.”
Her head rested on his shoulder, long hair cascading down his arm. His heartbeat raced from the nearness of her. Holding her like this was a dream come true.
With subtle deliberation, he swept her towards the doorway where the mistletoe hung, eager for the kiss he’d been longing for all night.
He lowered his head to hers, pressed his mouth to her cold, lifeless lips.
“Merry Christmas,” he murmured against her neck, covered with the deep purple bruises he’d left there.