Page 63 of The Twelve Days of Christian
She stirs with a small kitten-like mewl and stretches her arms.
“God, I wish I didn’t have go to work.” She twists to press her body against me and buries her head into my neck. “Not when I’m in bed with such a good snuggler.”
“A good snuggler? Is that all?” Her breasts crushed against my chest feel so damn good, the peaks of her nipples erect and tempting.
“Nope. I think you’ve proved you are rather good at a lot of things.” Her giggle tickles my shoulder. “But a snuggle is all I’ve got time for.”
“Are you sure? I can be very quick as well as good.”
“Hmm.” She hums against my skin. “I definitely need a shower. Can’t go to work reeking of you.”
“We could save time by taking a shower together?”
Laughter bursts from her. “Nice try, but no.” She shimmies up the bed and places pliant lips against mine, offering a kiss as her final word on the subject. “You stay here.”
The sounds of her getting ready for work—the hum of the shower, the buzz of her hairdryer, the hiss of the coffee machine, her chatter to the dogs—are like a piece of music I could listen to on repeat forever. And it’s within my reach to capture it. I know it is.
Before she leaves, she slips back into the room, perching beside me on the bed. Her newly-washed hair caught up in a ponytail, that green-apple shampoo in a cloud, her face fresh and shiny, and the smell of her floral perfume as she leans in to kiss me—it’s like a waking dream.
“See you around five-thirty, yeah?”
“I’ll be waiting right here.”
“Oh, could you put the bin out? It’s our collection day.”
“Sure. Anything else you need me to do?”
“Cook me up another one of those dinners.”
“Yeah, I thought I’d do tacos.”
The conversation is mundane, like we’re an old married couple with our daily routines. This is what it would be like to be with her. There’s a simple beauty in it, the hint of a life that could be ours.
“Mmm, now you’re talking my language. I’ll be thinking about them all day.”
“And I’ll be thinking about you all day.”
She gives me one last peck on my hungry lips, and slowly pulls her hand away from where it’s wrapped in mine, stretching out her leaving that moment longer, as if she regrets she can’t stay. I regret it too.
The moment I step out of the bathroom, an hour after Haley’s gone, I have a sense someone is in the house. There’s a presence in the otherwise silent rooms. The dogs are still out back on squirrel patrol. I gave up trying to trick the little shits into coming inside before I jumped in the shower. They’re too obsessed with staking out the tree to worry about the cold. If they’re not concerned about sitting out there without their cutesy Christmas jackets, then neither am I. So it’s not them filling the empty space.
I refasten the towel around my hips and edge towards the kitchen. My bare feet are cold and silent as I pad down the wooden floor of the passageway. I’m almost at the kitchen door, when there’s the scrape of a chair and muted footsteps headed my way.
I startle as a tiny figure appears in the doorway, silhouetted against the glare.
“Samantha?” My hands reflexively drop to protect my crotch, while my balls shrink at the sight of her, desperate to hide. I wouldn’t put it past Sam to knee me in the groin just because I looked at her the wrong fucking way. Rachel might appear scary, but this is the one to watch out for.
“You know you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that, Christian? Lucky I knew it was you or…”
“Don’t tell me—or you’d have slammed me onto the ground and broken my arm again.”
“I didn’t break your arm,” she protests. The barely suppressed curve of her mouth suggests she’s not the least bit sorry.
“Might have fucking well broken it. It hurt for two days.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, but her grin argues otherwise. “But if itwasbroken, it would hurt for more than two days. Anyway, now I know who you are, I won’t do it again. Promise. Besides, I don’t think Haley would like it if I damaged her new toy.”
I narrow my eyes, and a flush rises up my neck. Seems like girl-code demands you spill all the details.
