by Esme Devlin
After a while I can no longer fight the urge to explain myself.
“Lewis, I wanted— ”
“Shhh.” He cuts me off with a finger over my lips. “I think we’ve heard enough from you tonight, don’t you?”
I smile beneath his finger. He probably heard more than he should have, but still I can’t help wanting to mitigate the damage, so that if he doesn’t feel the same way I do, I can get myself out of it.
“First of all, I didn’t text back because my phone was in the car. Second, if you’d walked to my house in the middle of the night in this weather I think I would have strangled you on sight. And third. Third… I can’t fucking let you go, Isla.”
I search his face, looking for a sign that this is some sort of sick joke. Does he mean that?
His finger drops from my lips but I don’t know what to say. There’s something in my chest and it’s lifting me higher than I’ve ever been before in my life.
“I don’t know how it’s going to work, Lewis.”
As much as I want it to, he needs to know that it’s not like I can just pop up and visit on the weekends. I live on the other side of the country. I work all over the continent. I can’t just come for the odd sleepover, as much as I’d want to.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he says, shrugging. “You’re not leaving me again. I won’t be able to live with myself.”
I shake my head, unable to hide the smile that’s working it’s way across my face. “I don’t want to leave.”
He smiles now too. “Well, that’s good, cause it wasn’t even an option. I’d lock you in this castle ’til the day we die.”
I laugh at him. He’s joking, right?
Chapter 17
LEWIS
“Come on… I’m taking you home.”
I take her hand, about to lead her to the door but she digs her heels in.
“I can’t leave,” she says. “What about the girls?”
“I’ll drag you out of this house myself,” I say with a shrug, only half-joking. She wasn’t saying that five minutes ago when she was about to trek to my house in the middle of the night.
“Let me go and tell them, then.”
She slips out of my grasp and I head to the car to wait for her. It’s well below freezing and pitch dark out here, the only light coming from the fire that can be seen through the windows in the living room.
I watch the figures from the window while leaning against the car. I’m glad I didn’t fuck about with knocking and waiting on a reply. Walking in like I did, and hearing her say what I did, saved a whole lot of time. She would have just denied shit and danced around the issue, like we’ve both being doing for days.
But she can’t deny anything now.
I see her figure appear at the door and unlock the car, walking around to get the door for her. Before she can jump in, I take her by the shoulder and push her up against the side of the car, boxing her in with an arm at each side.
She looks like she’s about to say something, but I don’t let her. I don’t want to hear it. She can say all she wants to say in the morning over breakfast.
My mouth covers hers and it takes her a second to react, but when her mouth gives me an inch, I take the whole fucking mile. My cock stirs instantly, already craving the feeling of her wrapped around it and I push myself up against her while she lets out a soft sigh.
I slip my hands down, grabbing the backs of her thighs and lifting her up so I can bring her closer to me. What I wouldn’t give to rip those daft pyjamas off her right now and fuck her against the car. And the second she lives with me is the same second she never wears Christmas pyjamas again. I’ll rip every single pair she owns right off her body if I have to.
“Lewis, take me home,” she says through the kiss.
Right. Home.
There’s time for all this later.
I let her slip down my body and then help her up to the seat, before getting in myself and starting the engine.
The roads are awful again, the temperate dropping so much that it’s turned the melted snow back into ice, so I’m trying to drive slowly and carefully but all I can think about is getting home and burying myself deep inside her.
At least, that was the plan.
By the time we arrive at my house… Isla has a different idea.
She’s fast fucking asleep.
Too much of that sorry excuse for champagne she drinks.
I get out of the car and come around to her side, unclipping her seatbelt while trying not to wake her. Then I slide her into my arms and lift her out of the car. She stirs a wee bit, before finally resting her head on my chest, and going still again.
There will be no burying of the wee man tonight.
So I take her up the stairs and tuck her into bed.
I meant what I told her earlier… I have absolutely no intention of letting her go.
I can let the woman sleep in peace for one night, at least.
Chapter 18
ISLA
TWO YEARS LATER
I wave goodbye to the last guests of the season and breathe a sigh of relief as I get into the car. It’s Christmas Eve, 6PM (a late check-out for sure, which is something I should have never agreed to but well, I’m a softie and it’s Christmas) and I’m more than ready to go home, get my pajamas on, and curl up on the couch with a glass of Prosecco.
It’s been a challenging year for sure. Opening up a hotel and working out the inevitable kinks has taken up more time than I planned for. But things are good now. Much better than last year, when I couldn’t even have a glass of Prosecco after days like this.
She was worth it though.
I jump out of the car and can already see them all through the big window at the front of the house. When I think back to the night I decided to stay, for sure the castle was something that made the decision a little easier. I mean, who wouldn’t want to live somewhere like that?
But that was before Lewis took me home to his actual house, which turns out is the polar opposite.
Nestled in woodland, but still only a mile away from the town, it’s like a little sanctuary. A modern sanctuary. So white it practically shines in the low winter sun, with almost as much glass as there is wall.
I must admit I laughed when I discovered his “I sell firewood” was the understatement of the century. Yes, he sells firewood, he just failed to mention he owns the whole damn forest from here to the castle, too. And in a place like this, firewood is as much a necessity as bread and milk.
Technically, we could have earned nothing from the castle and still been alright. But it would have been such a waste, and it created the ideal passion project for me. It’s not been easy — we refurbished everything while I was pregnant with Skye — but now it’s finished business is doing better than I could ever have hoped for.
“Mum’s home!” I hear his overly excited voice drift in from the living room and a few moments later, the patter of tiny feet on the tiles.
“Oh I missed you,” I tell her, scooping her up in my arms and taking in a deep breath of her brown curls. She’s one now, so she’s losing that baby smell they all have but there are still traces of it.
A few moments later Mya comes too, to see what’s going on. She’s incredibly protective of her wee cousin, and the pair of them follow each other around like shadows. I put Skye down and Mya lifts her up — something I’ve told her not to do countless times — and makes her way back to the living room.
Lewis is sat on the floor in the middle of a train set, while Gemma and Jamie are on the sofas with a cup of tea in their hands.
I’m betting Gemma made those as Lewis’s hosting skills have not really improved in the two years we’ve been married.
“Time d’ye call this, woman?” His tone is stern but his face is teasing.
“Well, someone has to graft while you lot sit around all day. Make yourself useful and get the kettle on.” I nod towards the kitchen and he shakes his head slowly, then gets up anyway, stoppi
ng on the way to plant a quick kiss on my cheek.
I collapse onto the sofa and take my boots off.
“That you all done for the year now?” Jamie asks.
“No guests til the fifth of January and I could not be more happy about that,” I tell him.
He laughs.
“Oh Isla, did you remember to pick up the tatties for tomorrow?” Gemma sits up, almost panicked looking, and I smile at her.
“They’re in the car with the drink. Lewis’ll bring them in later.”
She lets out a breath of relief and then gets up. “Right, we best be getting home then, get the wee one to bed,” she says, then lowers her voice to a whisper to add “and Santa still has a bike to build.”
We both glance at Jamie and he rolls his eyes before he gets up. They say their goodbyes — shouting through to the kitchen for Lewis — and then I start our little Christmas Eve routine with Skye.
We have matching pajamas. Yes. We are that family. Matching pajamas, hot chocolate, cookies and whisky for Santa AKA Lewis, and a carrot to put outside for Rudolph.
Then we watch the snowman and Lewis reads her ‘The Night Before Christmas” before taking her to bed.
When he comes back down the stairs, I already know what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth.
“Right darlin, get those Christmas pyjamas to fuck.”
I giggle because I was right, and because his face is actually deadly serious. Shaking my head slowly, I reply, “We had a deal and you know it.”
“You used Skye against me for that deal, it was underhanded and poor patter from you.”
I smile at him while he kneels down on the floor at my feet. “A deal is a deal. Is it even Christmas Eve if I’m not wearing Christmas pajamas?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Is it even Christmas Eve if I’m not ripping them off you and fucking you into the rug?”
I almost spit my tea out. He’s right though… it’s become somewhat of a tradition.
“We’ve got all night for that!” I argue.
He shakes his head, his hands coming up my calves and tracing circles on my thigh.
“I’m Santa now. I’ve got a fucking dolls-house to build. But I’m not an unreasonable man, I’ll give you another deal?”
Now I’m the one lifting my eyebrow. “And what deal is that? You want to beat me at pool again?”
He chuckles. “Nah, too easy. I’ll give you the carrot instead of the stick this year…”
“Spit out the deal before take that carrot and use it as a stick on you.”
He laughs. “Right, the deal is simple, darlin. You fuck me now, I use the instructions for the dolls-house. You make me wait — I go in blind and do it myself.”
It’s so fucking ridiculous I can’t help laughing at him. “You’re one twisted little man.”
“Little?” His hands reach up further, diving towards my waist and pulling me closer towards him. I almost spill the damn tea. “Little?”
“Little,” I say.
He takes the mug right out of my hand and puts it down on the floor beside him. “You could have had the carrot, babe. Now you’re getting the stick.”
I’m about to argue but his hands are already wrapping around my head, pulling me closer so he can catch my lips. My argument would have been pathetic anyway… considering I want it just as much as he does.
The moment his lips meet mine and he drags me down onto the floor on top of him, the argument for putting this off makes absolutely no sense.
His hands are everywhere, pulling at my beloved Christmas pyjamas and sliding them over my head.
The first time we did this, things were less than perfect. We had no power, no food, no beautiful twinkling lights on the Christmas tree like we do now. We had no idea if this would ever work out. We didn’t even know if we could stand to be around each other without feet of snow keeping us there. But now, two years later… it’s hard to think of a life any less perfect than this.
I mean, yes he’s still a cheeky arsehole who finds pleasure in winding me up. But he makes me laugh every single day. He makes Skye laugh every single day. He loves us both with his whole heart, and what makes it better is that I don’t think even he knew he was capable of it.
The first time I met him, he was a smooth-talking cocky young man who thought he was a gift to womankind. The second time I met him, he was jaded and moody and thought women should leave him the fuck alone.
Now? Now he’s my husband. My partner in business, in life, in parenting. He’s my lover, and he’s my best friend. He’s given me a family when my own are thousands of miles away. And he’s given me a reason to laugh every single day.
“Next year we’re getting matching ones, and you’re joining in, too,” I whisper as I kiss his neck and run my hands over his wide shoulders.
He flips me over, splitting my legs apart with his knee and pinning my arms down at my sides. “Put it on the agenda next year and we’ll discuss the terms of the deal,” he says, before returning his mouth to my neck.
My thighs squeeze together around him. He knows exactly how to make me desperate for him and he goes straight to that little spot below my ear every time.
“I’m sick of your deals,” I whisper. “I never win them!”
He comes back up and gives me a smirk that turns into a smile. “I think you like it that way. You know what happens to the loser.”
I giggle, “What?”
He pushes himself inside me and I sigh at the size of it, like I always do. His arms wrap around me and he rolls us both over, so now I’m the one perched on top of his chest. He grips on to my hips and starts grinding them against him and after a second, I don’t even remember what we were talking about.
“I fucking love you, Isla,” he says, as he leaves me to do the grinding myself and wraps his arms around my body, kissing the top of my head.
“I love you, too.”
THE END
