Page 36 of One Week With You
“What?”
“I broke it when I was fifteen, walking down a slide in the park. Why are you smiling?”
I wrestled with my grin and the joy in my heart, but it was impossible to fight it. “I’ve always wanted to know.”
“And now you do…” He ducked to kiss my lips, adding, “come with me.”
“What?” I peeked at the radio alarm clock on the bedside table. “Ugh, why are you even awake, you monster.”
“Don’t act like you don’t also get up at 4.30 every day.”
“That’s when I’m working. At Christmas? I won’t hear of it. Anything before 8.00 a.m. doesn’t exist.” I gave his ass cheeks a satisfying squeeze, and right then I was grateful for squats. Grateful he did hundreds of them, grateful that I didn’t. I wanted to rub myself off against all that hardened muscle. I could do it, too. I was sure. “Let’s stay in bed.”
Rafe rocked his hips in the most delicious tease and my breath caught. He was so hot it was ridiculous. “You’re playing dirty, and I love it. But there’s something I want to show you. We’ll come back to bed, I promise.”
“Fine,” I said with a put-upon exaggerated sigh and threw off the sheet. “If you insist.”
“Just shove some warm clothes on. Whatever is quickest.”
“Okay.” I frowned but did what I was told.
Once dressed, Rafe dragged me downstairs and told me to put on an old pair of his Wellington boots left permanently by the door while he grabbed the blanket still discarded on the floor from last night. He nudged me in front of him, my back to his front, and wrapped the blanket around the both of us until we were a warm, snuggly blanket burrito.
“What is happening?” I asked with a laugh.
“Trust me.”
Somehow we managed to get outside without falling over each other’s legs; the thick snow a crisp, satisfying crunch beneath our feet. I was so distracted by the sound, the fierce rush of cold against my cheeks, it took me a full minute to notice the snow floating around us in big, fat flakes.
Nothing around us but miles of white.
The sun hadn’t fully risen yet but there was something ethereal, magical almost, in the way the dawn was so close, the air cold and still. Quiet. I lifted my face to the sky and, inexplicably, felt my eyes well with tears.
It was stupid, so stupid, but I couldn’t help it.
My first ever white Christmas.
I was so used to the snow disappearing overnight or even an hour later back in London, I hadn’t expected to wake up to… this. Even though it had been snowing for days. My brain hadn’t allowed my heart to hope.
I’d never seen anything like it.
Rafe tightened his arms around me. I leaned my head back against his chest and settled in to watch the snow dust everything like icing sugar.
I wasn’t sure how long we stood there. After a while I turned around in the circle of his embrace, sliding my arms around his waist. Snowflakes dotted his hair and eyelashes, melting across his stubble, and the tip of his nose was pink with cold.
“This is perfect.” I couldn’t manage more than a whisper, the strength of my words lost to the intensity of his gaze. “Thank you.”
“Merry Christmas,” he said quietly, brushing my nose with his own.
The softness of the caress sent a shiver through my limbs and settled in my smile. “Merry Christmas.”
* * *
We were too wired to go back to bed. Rafe started the fire while I put on a cheesy Christmas movie that played every year on one of the main channels. It wasn’t something I wanted to watch but the background noise reminded me of home.
After showering, I wrapped myself in the navy towelling robe I found hanging on the back of the bathroom door. The length of it brushed past my ankles, and the sleeves needed rolling up three times so I could see my hands, but it made me feel cosy and snug.
By the time I padded down the stairs in my thick wool socks, Rafe was setting out coffee and croissants on the coffee table, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair was slicked back, damp from our shower. I paused on the bottom step, unable to take my eyes off the V-shaped slope of his naked back. The faint red lines from my nails made the sight better somehow.
