Melanie's PoV
The musk of pine and the crackle of the fireplace fill the cabin as Morgan moves with a quiet intensity I've come to recognize. His movements are deliberate, almost predatory, yet there's a softness to him that belies the gruff exterior he so often presents. He plucks a sprig of mistletoe from a small box and affixes it to the door frame with a precision that speaks of a tradesman's attention to detail.
"Strategic placement," he murmurs, his voice a rumble deep in his chest. "Every threshold shall be a trap for your kisses."
I can't help but laugh, feeling the warmth of our growing connection bubble inside me like a hearth-fire. "Oh really? And what makes you think I'll fall for your traps?"
"Instinct," he says, meeting my gaze with those piercing green eyes. "A
