He nuzzles my cheek. ‘Yeah, sounds like it.’ He kisses me, our tongues entwine, and happiness infuses my body. Bailey is a great kisser, and he definitely likes to give more than he receives. I thought I would feel awkward or shy, but everything we’ve done feels so natural. It’s like we know exactly what the other person needs. I stroke his arm, feeling more relaxed than I have in years.
He shakes his hair into place, props himself up on one elbow, and gives me a slow grin. I have to restrain myself from going gaga over his dimples. He is officially the cutest guy I’ve ever been with (not that there have been that many—we’re talking single figures here).
‘How are you this morning?’ he asks.
I stretch out, rubbing my foot against his leg. ‘Full of oxytocin.’
‘That’s romantic.’
‘What can I say? I believe in the science behind social bonding.’
Bailey smirks. ‘Is that what we’ve been doing? “Socially bonding”?’
‘Well, yes. Physical interaction releases oxytocin. It’s a well-known fact.’
‘And here I was thinking we were getting it on because we liked each other.’
‘Well, that may be a small part of it.’
‘Only a small part?’ He frowns. ‘Holly, I—’
What he’s about to say is interrupted by the door opening, and I yank the bedsheets up over my breasts.
Sarah’s face appears in the crack with her hand over her eyes. ‘I’m not looking, I promise! Crumpet wanted to come and say hi. He’s been fed. I think he was missing you. Bye!’ She opens the door wider, still with her hand over her eyes, and Crumpet pushes through and jumps up on the bed into my arms. ‘Oh, and merry Christmas!’
‘Merry Christmas!’ Bailey calls after her.
‘Do you think any more of your family are coming in?’ I ask him, hugging Crumpet.
‘Possibly. I’ll get us some breakfast. Do you like eggs on toast?’
‘Uh, yes.’
‘I’ll bring them up. With a cup of tea?’
‘Sounds fantastic.’ I watch as Bailey rises from the bed, his naked body on full display. He doesn’t seem to mind me perving at him as he hunts for his jeans, boxers, and T-shirt from last night. He picks up the bauble jumper, shoots me a look, and grins. ‘Might just wear a hoodie.’
‘Very wise,’ I say.
He blows me a kiss from the doorway. ‘Enjoy your lie-in. Back soon.’
Hmm, he’s kind of fantastic too.
Despite the lack of sleep, I don’t think I’ve ever been in this good a mood on Christmas Day. After handing me a tray with my eggs, Bailey says he’s going to hit the shower. But his farewell kiss goes on longer than expected.
‘I should eat these before they get cold,’ I say, finally breaking our lip-lock.
‘Good point. Otherwise, I’m going to end up back in bed with you.’
‘Not a bad way to spend Christmas morning,’ I reply jauntily, cutting into a poached egg lightly sprinkled with salt and pepper. Thick orange yolk oozes out. Mmm, organic, farm fresh—what a treat.
‘Don’t tempt me. I’ve got a lot to do today,’ he says, rummaging in his bag for, I assume, fresh clothes.
‘I thought we did most of the food prep yesterday?’ I ask.
‘Trust me, there’s an agenda.’
‘Like what?’
