Page 47 of Confessions of a Christmasholic

‘That would be a hard no,’ she told him. She held out her coffee cup hoping for a refill and when he ignored her she pushed her way to her feet. She sent a longing look to the staircase, wishing she could go back to bed. ‘And, hey, since you put me in a sex coma, the least you can do is make me another cup of coffee.’

‘And, hey, since I gave you more than a few orgasms,’ he shot back, ‘the least you can do is come to a Christmas party with me.’

She didn’t have a quick answer. Damn. So she did what any woman did when she was caught flat-footed. She pouted. Okay, it wasn’t mature, but it was effective.

‘I don’t want to,’ she whined.

‘Find your big girl panties and pull them up,’ Gus told her, sounding weary. ‘I’m not leaving you alone here on your own.’

He didn’t trust her. And he wasn’t comfortable leaving her alone in his house, amongst his things – hiswife’sthings. She wanted him to trust her, to like her, for him to know that while she might be in a pickle, it was just temporary, not a reflection of her life in general.

In real life, she was responsible and together, sensible. ‘I’m sorry you still don’t trust me,’ she remarked quietly, walking over to the coffee machine and shoving her cup under the spout. She hit the machine with the back of her hand and listened to it gurgle and belch.

Gus rested his big hand on her back. He pulled her hair off her neck and dropped a feather-light kiss on her skin. So soft, yet so sexy.

‘You’re not with it this morning, are you?’ he murmured. ‘You collect my kids and look after them in the afternoons, you drive them to karate, and Rosie to ballet. You haven’t lost them, hurt them or burned the house down yet.’

Point.

‘Iwantyou to come with me. I’d like someone to talk to, someone there to save me from looking like a sad sack of shit standing in the corner in a stupid tux.’

Aw. Her irritation evaporated and she sent him an over-the-shoulder smile. ‘Sweet, but I’d bet the thirty-five quid I have left that if you went on your own, you wouldn’t be lonely for long.’

He started to speak but he couldn’t compete against the twins yelling as they ran down the stairs, and Pig barking in solidarity. Gus kissed her neck again and released her hair. ‘I’d like to spend another night with you when I don’t have one ear out for the kids, wondering if they’ll wake up or bang on my door. Where I can touch you freely without running the risk of one of them seeing us and Rosie acting like a war crimes prosecutor.’

Sutton shuddered. She could imagine the questions from the super-bright four-year-old.Why are you kissing my daddy? Why do adults kiss? Does kissing a boy feel different to kissing a girl? Are you getting married? What is sex?The possibilities were endless.

Gus tucked his phone into the back pocket of his dark jeans. ‘Yes or no?’

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to be alone with him again too, to be themselves for a night and a morning. To spend lazy morning time, to touch him freely, and to talk without little ears listening. Sutton picked up her coffee cup and looked out of the kitchen window, grimacing at the light layer of frost outside. It was another cold day and light snow was predicted for the weekend. She hoped it wouldn’t impact the Christmas market. Gus had enough on his plate without having to contend with weather problems.

Now she was actively worrying about, and for, him? Crap, she had to get her thoughts under control, her feelings to stand down. She’d been living with him, innocently until last night, for two weeks…but she was starting to become emotionally invested in this little family, in him. She couldn’t afford to think like that.

She needed to be able to move on in a few weeks, without any strings to be cut. Without anyone, especially herself, getting hurt. This wasn’t her family, she’d just dropped into their life. She’d drop out with minimal disruption.

If Gus was just a one-night stand and if she knew she wouldn’t encounter him again, she could easily move on…maybe. But she’d be spending more time with him, and with his kids, and proximity and familiarity obliterated her ‘he’s just a fuck buddy’ thoughts. She couldn’t, she mustn’t start thinking there was a possibility of something more…

She wasn’t ready for serious, and shedefinitelywasn’t ready to take on a man with young kids. She liked Gus before last night, and now she knew how he used his body in bed, she liked him more. Sure, he could be super-grumpy, reticent and emotionally constipated, but he was an excellent lover and an even better father. Shelikedthe man,FFS.

Sutton knew she was wading into dangerous waters, and she needed to be super-careful. She should say no to going to Manchester with him?No.It wasn’t a difficult word. An n, and an o. She’d used it tons of times before.

‘I don’t have anything to wear,’ she told him. Holy hell! Seriously? ‘And no, you can’t buy me a dress!’

Gus folded his arms and considered her problem.

‘So, Moira is…what do you call those people who are into clothes and shit?’

‘Stylists? Fashion junkies? Fashionistas?Rich?’

Gus snapped his fingers. ‘Fashionistas. Moira was a fashion editor before she married. Anyway, she collects vintage clothing, and I’m sure she could find something to fit you.’

Sutton was irritated by her surge of excitement. Okay, maybe. ‘I suppose an LBJ is an LBJ, right?’

‘Are you confusing little black dresses with little blow jobs?’ he asked, his voice low and hot. ‘Because you should know there’s nothinglittleabout your blow jobs.’

Sutton felt the space between her legs heat up, thinking of the way she dropped to her knees while he sat on the edge of his bed, looking up at him while she took him between her lips…

‘Daddy, what’s an LBJ?’

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