Page 8 of The Christmas Wife

She raises her fist and I move. I grab her around the waist, haul her over my shoulder.

She yelps, "Let go of me, you oaf."

"You sure about that, Buttercup?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Not gonna oblige you. Next?"

She makes a huffing sound and the warmth of her breath sears my back. She wriggles her body, tries to scramble off. I place my arm across the back of her thighs.

She brings her fists down on my back, rains blows. How cute. As if that’s gonna make a difference. From where I am, it’s more like a massage. Don’t tell her that, though. I stalk forward, and Max chooses that time to dart out.

Blame it on the fact I was distracted by her wriggling arse positioned so close to my face. Or the fact that I was having too much fun. Or that a part of me was bloody angry with that turd Saint, for having put me in this situation.

Clearly, he’d double booked me and this little puff pastry of a woman… whatever the fuck he'd been thinking, he is mistaken. I have no interest in her; none whatsoever... especially when she's proving to be such a distraction that I barely manage to sidestep Max.

My bare feet slip from under me. The world tilts.

The woman across my shoulder shrieks. I tighten my grip on her, as the ceiling recedes further. I manage to find my balance, lurch back a couple of steps, through the door. I must have spilled something earlier. My legs slip out from under me a second time.

I arc back through the air…and still holding her, hit the hot tub and tumble into the water.

"Woman," I growl, "you’re going to rupture my eardrums."

"I’ll do more than that, you…you horrible man. You…you Fruit Salad."

I blink, "Did you compare me to a dessert?"

"I’m not done you…you Carrot Cake." She rears up so quickly, I loosen my grip. She pulls away, and over…smashes straight into my injured finger. Bright lights flash behind my eyes… Jesus F… She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she’d show me the sun in the night time… Hold on. What the hell am I thinking? My brain seems to freeze, then pain ratchets up my spine, through my skull… A growl rips from me, "The hell are you doing?"

"You started this." She lurches up to her feet, stands over me, with my torso in between her legs.

Her wet blouse stretches across her chest, highlighting every gorgeous curve of that magnificent bust.

My cock twitches; my mouth dries. I can only stare at the nipples that salute me, the water that drips down the fabric outlining her flat stomach, the indentation of her bellybutton, down to the valley between her thighs, where her jeans have ridden up to kiss the cleft between her lower lips. What I wouldn’t give to be able to place my lips there… I swallow. My dick lengthens.

Shit, bet if she looks down, she’ll see exactly which parts of me are excited by this little rough play… Which it isn’t… Foreplay, that is. It is an accident, that’s all.

"Why the hell couldn’t you watch where you were going?" She glowers.

"Me…?" I scowl. "I am as steady on my feet as I am with my fingers… Speaking of," I raise my throbbing hand, and glare at the offending digit, "You probably fractured it again, thanks to your clumsiness."

"It was already broken, you idiot."

"Heard about multiple fractures?" I growl. "And don’t call me an idiot."

"Oh, pfft. I’ll call you anything I want, you reprobate."

"Mind your tongue, Buttercup."

"Oh, stuff it." She swings one leg over. "And for the record, I’m the one who’s staying, not you."

"Oh, no, you’re not." I grab for her leg. She squeaks, evades me and jumps up and out of the tub. There’s a howl… "Max." I turn to find her squatting down. She rubs the puppy’s head. "Oooh, little fellow, did I hurt you? I didn’t, did I?" Max whines again.

"Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry," she coos, makes kissing noises at the mutt, who whines. No wonder he’s making the most of having her attention.

She plops onto her butt, cross-legged, pulls the puppy into her lap. The dog, lifts his head, licks her face, her mouth. Hmm.He whines again, she strokes him, and lifts him to her chest. The little bugger cuddles against her breasts.What the—?I glower.How does he get to do that and not me? Wait, hold on? Am I seriously jealous of a canine?I shake my head.

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