Page 94 of Not My Little Drummer Boy
“Easy to bare your soul, is it?”
“With you, yeah.” He exhales, a tiny fog of breath in the winter air. “Ready?”
“Fire away.”
He steps in, foreheads touching. His lashes flutter once—as if steadying the beat—then the words drop, low and certain. “I love you.”
My heart stutters, the city noise fading to a hush.Impossible.
I pull back just enough to search his face. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly.” His thumb strokes the corner of my mouth. “I’ve said the words before—never meant them. Until now.”
A memory flickers—me, years ago, blurtingI love youto a man who went on to throw it back in my face; shattered me. I thought I meant it. Maybe I didn’t know what love was. Because this—this honeyed warmth flooding my ribs—feels nothing like that brittle hope.
I swallow, voice shaky. “I told someone once. Thought it was true. Turns out it was practice for this moment.”
His eyes flare, hopeful. “Rachel…”
I slide my hands to his jaw, feeling the stubble rasp under my thumbs. “I love you too, Teddy. And I actually mean it.”
He laughs—half disbelieving, half ecstatic—then kisses me hard enough that the bells of St Paul’s might as well be ringing just for us. The chestnut smoke, the Christmas lights, the rooftop bar waiting nearby—none of it matters as much as the pulse beating wild under my palm.
A soft tinkle of bells jingles behind us. The young photographer from earlier steps out from beside the chestnut cart—same floppy red hat, same battered notebook.
“Oops—sorry, Teddy, didn’t spot it was you. I won’t bother you again.”
He tightens his arm around my waist. “No worries. Go on, take another.”
The flash pops. I’m still blinking when he adds, calm as a drumbeat, “And here’s your caption:Couple in love.”
My pulse leaps. The girl’s pen stalls on the page, eyes wide. She nods once, already backingaway to file her scoop.
Teddy turns to me, a grin curving under the street-lights. “Public enough for you?”
I answer with a kiss that feels like the real headline.
Chapter 35
IwakeonChristmasmorning in Teddy’s enormous bed with his solid forearm draped over me, his palm cupping my bare breast. I roll into him, moulding my body to his warm length.
“Merry Christmas.” I breathe in the lingering vanilla and spice of his skin.
“Guess I must have been on Santa’s nice list this year.” Teddy’s soft breath ruffles my hair as he tightens an arm across my waist. “Got my Christmas wish.”
“Don’t be too nice,” I say. “I like it when you’re naughty.”
“Fancy being naughty with me now?” His hand glides up and down my spine, featherlight touches that make my skin tingle.
“I always feel like being naughty with you,” I whisper, moving my hand to the smooth curve of his thigh.
After the kind of lazy, lingering lovemaking only a no-deadlines morning allows, we lie wrapped close, ignoring the pings of ‘Merry Christmas’ texts playing a duet on our phones.
I bask in the quiet contentment, savouring the joy of waking up with a man on Christmas morning when there’s no tension humming beneath it.
“Want your Christmas present?” I say.
“Thought I just unwrapped it,” he murmurs, fingertip gliding between my breasts. “Though I’m happy to accept another…” He quirks a suggestive brow.
