“Good.” She smiles. “You know how hard it is for me to bite my tongue, and I have a feeling Hayden would make me bite it clean off.”

I laugh and lean forward, bringing my lips to hers. “I like your tongue, and I’ll protect it at all costs.” I give her a small kiss, knowing if I give her more, we’ll have to make a pit stop in the garage before we go inside. An entire evening keeping my hands off Winter is going to be hell—good thing I’m well acquainted with it.

“Come on,” I say, opening the car door. “Let’s get this over with so I can take you back to our suite and make good on my promise to do ungodly things to your body on the balcony.”

Walking around to the passenger side of my Tesla, I open Winter’s door and grab her hand to help her out. Then I lead us up the slate walkway to the sleek gable-style porch.

“Do you want a safe word?” I ask as I reach for the door.

“Why would I need a safe word, Aleck?”

I laugh, ignoring her panic, and open the front door.

“Aleck!” she hisses.

“I’ll come to your rescue if you say nipple clamp,” I whisper before stepping through the threshold.

“Oh, Jesus,” she mutters, pulling a deeper laugh from my chest.

Walking into the house, the open concept design of the first floor immediately gives you a full view of the common area, a good portion of the kitchen, dining room, and most of the deck beyond the windows. Very similar to our suite at the resort, but unlike the suite, the setting is warm and cozy. Pillows and fuzzy blankets draped over everything. An eternally lit fireplace, no matter what time of year it is, crackling into the room. And freshly cut flowers in jars, vases, and unconventional repurposed vessels set on every surface of the house.

Everything in the suite is granite and crisp white, the warmest thing there being Winter.

My dad sips amber liquid, I’m assuming is whiskey, from a crystal tumbler in his favorite chair across the room.

“Aleck, my son!”

“Pops, good to see you.” I slide my hand down Winter’s spine, leaving it firmly placed on the small of her back so she feels me near.

My dad stands and walks our way, but my mom pops her head out from behind the small wall separating the entryway and kitchen, and heads toward us quickly, cutting him off.

“Sweetheart!” she says, her eyes immediately landing on Winter.

I feel Winter’s body tense slightly, so I rub my thumb across the soft skin peeking out from under her cream-colored silk blouse and slide my pointer and index fingers just under the waistband of her black pencil skirt. A smile curls my lips when I feel goosebumps arise across her skin.

“Oh my lord, Richard, look at this beautiful woman!” My mother holds a wooden spoon covered in red marinara sauce away from her body as she scoops Winter into an embrace with her free arm. Winter giggles and hugs her back.