Page 74 of Just a Taste
Just the thought of it makes me squirm in the best kind of way.
Suddenly, Hoxton stops on a title and raises an eyebrow in my direction. ‘How about this one?’
The Grinch’s crooked smile is slanted across the screen and I let out a snort of laughter. ‘Seriously?’
He shrugs and then guides me towards the sofa, his arm coming up to rest casually around my shoulder like this is normal for us. Like touching me is second nature now. ‘I feel like I should probably watch the film everyone keeps comparing me to.’
I grind to a halt, one knee on the sofa. ‘Are you telling me you’ve never watchedHow The Grinch Stole Christmas? Not even as a kid?’
A look of amused disbelief flits across Hoxton’s face. ‘Why does that surprise you?’
He’s got a point.
After everything I’ve learned about Hoxton over the last few days, it really shouldn’t.
But still.
‘It’s The Grinch,’ I insist as he pulls me down onto the sofa, tucking me into his side and holding me close like I’m something precious he never wants to let go of. ‘You know the one with Jim Carrey? It’s a classic.’
‘Yes, I keep hearing,’ Hoxton says dryly. ‘Do you want to watch it or not? Because there are other things I’d like to be doing right now.’ He leans back against the sofa, his eyes suddenly turning dark and hooded as his gaze drops and he stares pointedly at my lips. His tongue darts out to wet his own lips and I feel my pussy throb with anticipation.
I indulge him for just a second. I lean in and press my lips softly against his. One large hand immediately comes up to rest on my waist, eager to pull me onto his lap, but I pull away and bite my lip to silence the laugh that threatens to fall when Hoxtonpoutsat me.
Literally pouts.
That shouldn’t be attractive. And yet, somehow, it is.
‘Film first,’ I say, settling back into the sofa.
Hoxton looks like he wants to argue, so I snatch the remote from him and hitplaybefore he can say anything.
I half expect him to grumble and moan throughout the film, but he’s surprisingly content. He sits upright, watching the whole thing with an air of seriousness that definitely doesn’t compute with a children’s film. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s enjoying it.
‘I like this Grinch guy,’ Hoxton says with an appreciative nod as the Grinch loudly and dramatically declares that he hates Christmas and then promptly moves into a cave inside a mountain. ‘Very relatable.’
I roll my eyes and reach for a cushion to swat him with. ‘Are you implying that you want to hide from society and live in a cave alone?’
‘At Christmas, sure,’ Hoxton says with a shrug. Then he looks over at me, his eyes darkening ever so slightly. ‘Maybe not alone, though.’
‘See, there’s your problem. I’m not living in a cave,’ I say, leaning into him a little more. ‘I’ve become accustomed to the finer things over the last few days.’
Hoxton scoffs. ‘You mean a house without working heating?’
‘There’s been a few hiccups,’ I concede. ‘But, overall, not bad. I’d give you three out of five on Airbnb.’
And anyway, I barely feel the cold anymore. When we were back in the kitchen, I just put it down to the heat from the Aga mixing with the heat we generated from our kiss. But, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve felt the cold all day today.
From when I woke up this morning till now, there’s no sign of the biting cold that’s been making itself at home in my bones for the last three days. The temperature actually feels quite normal.Warm,even. I allow myself the fleeting dream that the heater has heard my prayers and has kicked itself back into action but before I can voice my thoughts aloud, something catches my eye from the window.
For the first time in days, I don’t see a snowy maelstrom in front of me. The snow is still falling, but the snowflakesare gently, slowly falling towards the ground. Not swirling around in a flurry of chaos.
The glass on the window is no longer completely blurred with icy frost and instead, I can just about make out the shapes of trees and bushes in the garden. I can even see the homes of Hoxton’s neighbours again.
The storm is clearing.
Thestormis clearing.
A sense of relief mixed with excitement suddenly washes over me. If I drove through the night, I might just be able to make it to Gran’s house on time for Christmas. The pure joy of being able to go back home starts creeping into my mind, but then another, less pleasant thought pushes its way forward.
