Page 61 of A Manny for Christmas

‘Innocent offer. I’ll come and spoon you for a few minutes, and then I’ll slip out and leave you to it.’

‘No. I know you. You’ll try to warm me up with your dick.’

I can’t believe I just referred to his dick, when that particular organ is pressed right up against my bum and, knowing my ex as I do, it won’t stay soft for long. But it makes him laugh, properly, a deep belly-laugh that vibrates through my back and into my heart and lungs.

‘I promise you, Mol. I’ll warm you from the outside in only. My intentions are honourable. Just let me give you a cuddle.’ He’s speaking into my hair. ‘Hey—this might sound weird, but I feel like we need a cuddle after everything we admitted to this evening. You know, for old time’s sake.’

The problem is that I totally agree. It’s not just my body yearning for Max’s particular brand of warm comfort, it’s my soul, too. My heart. After our emotional closeness this evening, physical closeness feels like the next step.

It’s just—it’s a big step. Even if it’s innocent, letting Max wrap that sinful body of his around me while I fall asleep in his arms is majorly intimate.

‘How long would this be for?’ I ask.

He shrugs against me. ‘As long as it takes. Half an hour?’

‘But what if you fall asleep before me, and then one of the kids find you in my bed?’

‘Honestly, Mol, you’re overthinking this. I’m not going to slip my dick inside you. Your kids are not going to find me in your bed, and if they do, I’ll tell them the truth. That you’re shamelessly exploiting me for my body warmth.’ He releases me from the hug, and I’m instantly colder. I can see how effective it would be having both Max and my hot water bottle to warm me up.

And by effective, I mean utterly blissful.

‘Okay. Fine.’

The kettle is whistling on the AGA plate, so I fill up the hot water bottle as Max hovers behind me. When I’m done, I hug it to my chest.

‘Come on. Let’s go.’

I’m leading my ex-lover up to my bedroom. This isn’t weirdat all.

He follows me up the stairs, his body a little too close for my liking.

‘Your arse looks fantastic in those bottoms,’ he says behind me.

‘No it doesn’t. Shut up.’

He flicks the end of the single, fat plait I wear my hair in at night. It’s so long it brushes my bum.

‘You could wipe your arse with this, these days.’

‘You’re as pragmatic as you are delightful, aren’t you?’ I hiss in a whisper, tugging it over my shoulder.

I push the bedroom door shut behind us as far as I can without closing it completely, in case the kids need to come in in the night. I make my way over to my side of the bed, and Max automatically goes to what used to be his side. I fight a smirk.

‘Still sleep on the same side?’ he asks, and I nod.

‘Yeah. You?’

‘Yeah,’ he says sheepishly, and I allow myself a little ogle at the fine sight of a shirtless Max climbing into my bed. This is far too close to how I remember things being for comfort.

But then he’s right up behind me, tugging me into the cradle of his body, the heat of it enveloping me. His arm wraps around my middle, his huge, warm hand splaying against my stomach in a manner that feels even better than the hot water bottle I’m clutching against my chest.

‘This okay?’ he mutters into my hair, and I take a deep, shuddery breath before exhaling heavily and sinking deeper into my bed. Into Max.

Because this is more than okay. He’s engulfing me, consuming me, with his heat, and his scent, and the strength of his muscles, and the sheer size of his body wrapped around mine. Pressed up against mine.

‘It’s heaven,’ I tell him, deciding to throw him a bone. Because even though I suspect this is no hardship for him, he’s doing me a favour, and it would be both childish and churlish to pretend I’m ambivalent. ‘You’re a full-body hot water bottle.’

He chuckles and pulls me in tighter. ‘That’s me.’

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