Page 121 of Pucking Obsessed

“Why stop there? To stop your constant eating of jam with your fingers, kicking muddy footballs around inside, and dropping hair gel over counters, he could keep you propped naked in his closet wrapped in saran wrap.”

I arch my brow. “Kinky. What if I’m into that?”

Robyn chuckles. “What if I am?”

“Jude would be a very happy dom.”

Robyn smirks. “As long as certain fun parts of our body were left free…”

“Good thinking. We’d need something to do to entertain ourselves in that closet.”

I pull Robyn to the telescope.

My stomach is churning with nerves. This telescope is bloody special to me. No one before Robyn has shown an interest in my passion for the stars.

I’ve not offered to allow anyone else to look through this telescope either.

It means a lot to me to share this with Robyn.

I hope that she understands.

I also hope that she’s going to like the present I’m making for her birthday.

Making, not buying.

I don’t have the money to buy diamond clips.

But then, Eden told me what Cody had said about previous birthdays and why Robyn didn’t celebrate them.

Her abusive piece of shit ex ruined them for her.

He never appreciated the amazing woman in his life. Instead, he had his PA select expensive jewelry that showed how little she meant to him.

I want to make something that shows she’s my everything.

I’ve had a lot of practice of handmade gifts.

I’ve never had money before. My parents couldn’t give us pocket money. At college, my earnings from shop jobs went on food and accommodation.

Christmas and birthdays were brilliant with my adopted parents anyway because we were together. We were happy. And I felt loved.

What else matters?

Eden and I crafted gifts for our parents and each other: handmade bookmarks, a bouquet of paper flowers, and knitted scarves.

The gifts that Eden made were better than mine.

He could bake cakes and chocolates. He was also incredible at woodwork, crafts, and needlework.

I didn’t have his patience or concentration.

I once ambitiously tried to knit Dad a Christmas Santa sweater, which ended up looking like something out of a horror movie, as if Santa’s face was melting. The arms were different lengths, and the sweater was riddled with holes.

I ducked my head, expecting Dad to laugh.

Instead, Dad’s face lit up. “I love it.”

He valiantly wore the sweater the entire day.

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