Page 171 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
I grinned and leant against him, tilting my head back so I could see him. “You said you wanted me as your reward for saving Christmas. I’m all yours.”
“Really?”
“Mhmm. Someone told me it was time to start choosing what I want. Don’t make me regret it.” I tapped my finger against his eyebrow. “Or I’ll give you a matching scar.”
He captured my hand with his and kissed my cold fingers. “Couple scars? Cute.”
“Idiot.”
“You bring it out in me.” He pressed my hand against his cheek, smiling. “You’re cold.”
“It’s minus two degrees and snowing. Of course, I’m cold.”
He kissed my hand again and linked our fingers. “Come on. Let’s go inside before Hazel sends out a search party.”
“Thank you. Sheesh. We could have had this conversation inside.”
“Yes, yes, it’s all my fault.” He flashed a grin over his shoulder. “By the way, isn’t your mum expecting you to be at home tomorrow morning? What is she going to say when you tell her you’re staying here?”
I shrugged. “I’ll pre-warn Nana. She’ll sort it out.”
“Won’t Nana care?”
“Please. She only cares that her pig has her Christmas breakfast. The rest of us are all afterthoughts.” I pulled off mycoat and handed it to him with a grin. “I’d much rather wake up with you.”
He groaned. “You’re killing me.”
“You wanted this,” I said, tossing the scarf at him, too. “That’s why they say to be careful what you wish for.”
He held the scarf and smiled at me as warmth filled his gaze. “Oh, I was. I was very careful.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX – THOMAS
Sylvie was in my arms. In my bed. With her hair tickling my nose and her breath fluttering across my chest.
This couldn’t be real.
There was no way she’d told me she loved me.
Perhaps it’d been the alcohol. She hadn’t drunk much, but I had—maybe I was already half pissed when we went outside and she responded to my flirting by telling me she wanted me.
She wanted to give ‘us’ a try.
Maybe someone had spiked her drink.
Maybe she’d hit her head hard.
“What are you muttering about?” she murmured, snuggling in closer to me.
I sighed and kissed her forehead. “I’m wondering how drunk I still am that is this happening.”
“You weren’t even that drunk.” Her words were still little more than a mumble. “And I wasn’t drunk. So, be quiet, I’m trying to sleep.”
“Good luck with that. I expect there to be a knock on the door with lots of yelling in about fifteen minutes.”
Sylvie groaned and pulled the covers up over her head, almost punching me in the jaw in the process. “Noooo.”
“Yes. The magic of Santa waits for nobody.” I moved the covers aside and kissed the top of her head. “Come on. You’re the one who drank Santa’s booze last night. If you participate in any part of that, you have to do your duty in the morning.”
