Page 91 of A Manny for Christmas

That he’s in control.

That my body is his to do what he likes with.

And right now, what he likes is driving deep, deep inside me, over and over, with wicked rolls of his hips that have me arching to meet him. To take whatever he feels like giving.

Whatever control he has is slipping. His movements grow more needy, his kisses more desperate, and my state of emotional overwhelm rises in tandem. It’s too much, this. My body doesn’t know how to bear the weight and privilege andgiftof having this man consuming me.

Max sucks on my bottom lip before pulling away so he can bury his face in the crook of my neck. In my tangle of hair. One of his hands comes down to cup my arse and pull me against him as he drives home. I grow fuller, the overwhelm in my body building and morphing into more of an ache as a second orgasm builds, deep inside me this time.

‘Fuck,’ he groans into my neck. ‘God, I love you so fucking much, Mol.’

They’re like an electric shock, these words, and my body responds violently as Max ramps up the pace and depth of his thrusts. There’s nothing except for this man and his skin and dick and weight and heat andhis words.

And then I’m falling over the edge as he comes apart on top of me.

33

MOLLY

Isurface.

I’m lying on my side, my body curled up against Max’s, my face nestled into my favourite place. His chest. As I stir, he grazes idle fingers down my spine. I blink into the dimness before lifting my head. The room is darker than it was, but there’s still some daylight.

‘It’s only three,’ he says before I can twist around to find a clock.

I flop my head back down onto the pillow and bury my face in his chest again. ‘Thank God. I thought I’d missed our whole date.’

‘No.’ His voice is so gentle. This bed is so warm. ‘But we were out for a couple of hours. We needed it, you especially.’

I make a sleepy noise of agreement and stretch in his arms. Three o’clock. Six more hours with Max in this room. Sheer heaven. My body is rested from its nap and loose from its two orgasms. But more than that, there’s a warm glow in my heart that has nothing to do with the warmth of the bed and everything to do with the man I’m snuggled up against. The man whose arm is wrapped around my waist. The scent of whose skin sends me into paroxysms of pleasure. And whose choice of words when he was buried deep inside me wasfascinating, if not totally trustworthy. Not if, like most women, you’ve completed the Don’t Believe What Guys Say When They’re Inside You module of the School of Life, anyway.

‘I need food,’ I grumble. We orgasmed and slept our way through lunch, and I’m ravenous.

‘I’ll feed you in a sec. I’m just enjoying waking up naked in a bed with you, for once. Your job and your kids aren’t exactly conducive to lie-ins.’

‘Mmm,’ I say in agreement. He’s right. I’m up hours before dawn during the week, and it’s too risky letting Max sleep in my bed at the weekend, lest the kids wake before us (which is, unfortunately, a given). Waking up curled into his warm, hard, gorgeous body is a hell of a luxury. I trail my knuckles over his happy trail.

‘Hey, Mol?’ he says softly, and I pull my head out of his glorious pecs so I can meet his eyes. His face is sleepy, and a little crumpled, and a lot contented. I scratch my fingers over his stubble, and he shifts his mouth so he can kiss them.

‘Yeah?’ I ask.

He swallows, amber eyes burning bright. ‘I meant what I said. When I was—inside you. I love you, sweetheart.’

That warm glow in my heart swells. Takes form. I stare at him in incredulity. I was expecting him to ignore what he said. Or perhaps apologise. Sheepishly brush it under the carpet.

I was not expecting a declaration of love.

I open my mouth to say something. Probablyare you serious?But he puts a finger to my lips.

‘Wait. I know it’s fast. And I’m not expecting you to say it back. It’s just—it’s not fast, really, because I don’t think I fell out of love with you. And let’s just say that became pretty clear, pretty quickly, when I came to stay. I’ve fallen back in love with you so fast it’s scary. Which is probably why I acted like a total psycho when that guy took you out on a date. I knew I’d fucked up.’ His other hand brushes my hip, and his brow creases. ‘Shit. When I ran through this in my head, I wasn’t expecting you to look quite so panicked.’

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘No. It’s not that. It’s—’

I’m not sure how I’m expected to formulate actual words and phrases when I don’t even know how to formulate my thoughts. My feelings. I open my mouth, hesitate, and then decide I should just start talking and let my thoughts organise themselves as I do. Not ideal, but possibly better than the effect my deer-in-the-headlights look is having on Max right now.

‘I love you too,’ is what I end up opening with. I shrug in his arms and give him a goofy smile. ‘Of course I do. God, I’m in so deep with you I have no idea which way is up—I’m a total mess.’

‘Good,’ he says smugly, his self-assurance restored, and kisses me. I let my eyelids drift closed, and his hands roam over my skin, and his mouth and tongue show me he means what he just said. But when he pulls away, I sigh.

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