Page 71 of Five Days of Christmas Spice

“I owe you a spanking,” I grit out.

“Yeah.” Holly smiles, swiping her hand through my hair. “But it was worth it.”

I withdraw from her, kissing her belly. I swing my legs to the floor. I need to clean up, but her hand on my arm stops me.

“Stay here with me for a moment.”

“Okay,” I spoon around her, holding her against my chest as my heart settles but pulses with a different beat, the one of wanting her.

* * *

It’s ten after two in the morning, and I’ve just stepped out of the shower. I don’t know if I have slept a whole night since my wife died. And even though I have this gorgeous woman in my bed now, old habits will take a bit to break.

“Hey.” Holly is sitting up in bed, scrolling through her phone.

“Did I wake you?” I slide into bed beside her.

“No. I’m kind of doped up on pleasure.”

“Good.” I trace her lips with my finger.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything. Ask me lots of things.” I find her hand and lace my fingers through hers.

“Where do you live?”

That shouldn’t be complicated, but since Claire left, I haven’t really lived anywhere. I have a condo in Vancouver that’s seldom used and a crash pad in Toronto, but in March, I moved back into the house Claire and I shared in Edmonton.

“In Edmonton. My wife’s family is from there.”

“Is your family?”

I laugh. “No, I grew up in Vancouver.”

“How did you make your money?”

I love how she asks the question without any bluster. “My dad invented a special cover for a solar panel, so they absorb more power.”

“Your dad is an inventor?” She props herself up on her elbow, smiling at me.

“Yeah. It took him years to get any success. My mom worked as a paralegal.”

“Is that why you became a lawyer?”

I grin. “Kind of. I thought I’d be good at arguing, and I am. My house was chaotic with four boys, my dad’s bits and stuff everywhere, but it was good.”

She stiffens beside me. “Holly?”

“Mine wasn’t. My bio father abused my mother. Not me, for whatever reason.”

“I’m sorry.” The words are so pointless, but I mean them anyway.

“My Gran’s house was a safe place. That’s where we spent Christmases,” she glances away from me.

I gently grab her chin with my fingers. “Hey, I’m here. And your mom left your father?”

Her gaze swings back to me.

---