‘Good.’
I squeezed again, thrilled when he pulsed against my palm, almost there but not quite. His mouth covered mine and as Callum slid inside me, I closed my eyes, giving myself over to the sensation of him stretching me, filling me, taking me. We might be fake but nothing in my life had ever felt this real. Whatever came next, I was already in too deep. There was no point struggling now, all I could do was hope my head stayed above water.
But if I drowned in him, so be it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
When I was little, I would lie awake in bed on Christmas morning, counting backwards from one hundred over and over until I heard my mum moving in the next room, Dad reluctantly staggering downstairs in his red and blue striped towelling dressing gown to put the kettle on, turn on the tree lights, assemble the piles of present. Then I would close my eyes and pretend to be asleep, waiting for her to come and wake me, to confirm Father Christmas had in fact paid us a visit, at which point I would vault out of bed and race to the living room, Mum laughing behind me.
According to the wind-up alarm clock on my bedside table, it was almost six a.m. when I opened my eyes the next morning, those long retired feelings of excitement and anticipation fluttering in my belly. But instead of toys and games, I rolled over to see Father Christmas had been to Balmaclay and left me a gift in the shape of Callum McClay. His body curled around mine when he felt me stir, just as it had on the train, only now wewere both naked and when I felt his erection pressing into my lower back, I didn’t jump out of bed and run away. Instead I lifted the hand that rested so casually on my chest to my lips, kissing each finger in turn, replaying all of the places they’d been the night before. There wasn’t an inch of me he hadn’t possessed, claimed as his own, and there wasn’t a single part of his body I hadn’t explored with my hands, my mouth. We’d devoured each other, riding the tide and cresting higher and higher until we crashed to the shore, exhilarated and exhausted.
It’s just the oxytocin, I told myself, practically euphoric when the fingers that had been on my lips grasped my throat as he kissed my shoulder, my back, the nape of my neck. It’s nothing more than a hormone response to physical stimuli. Skin on skin, a thumb brushing the peaks of my breast, fingers splayed on my stomach, his hand between my thighs. My body was only reacting as it was programmed to, the way human bodies had been programmed to react for thousands of years, I knew that.
But still.
‘Merry Christmas,’ he whispered, a rough raw sound in my ear as he pushed me onto my belly, my greedy gasp affirming consent, and slid inside me with one welcome thrust.
As much as I knew I needed time to think, space to ask myself what came next, it was impossible to drag myself away from him. When we finally forced ourselves out of bed, it was only to move to the shower together and, soon enough, my back was flush against the tiles, one leg hitched over his hip, the soap dish making its disapproval known by digging into my vertebrae every time Callum drove into me.
I didn’t care.
I didn’t care when we brushed our teeth side by side. I didn’t care when he towel-dried my hair even though I knew his vigorous rubbing would surely lead to frizz. I didn’t care when I chose a nonsensical outfit of mismatched pieces from my suitcase, and I didn’t care as I watched him pull on the same clothes he’d worn the day before. I was the human embodiment of bliss, boneless desire. Anything other than whatever was happening at this precise moment was a problem for future Laura. More than a decade of telling myself I didn’t need this, that wanting someone, that being wanted, wasn’t missing from my life, and it was all undone in a matter of hours.
I turned my phone over to see ten messages from Desi and Joel, nine texts demanding to know where I was and when we were leaving and one photo of Desi fast asleep with an eyeliner pencil moustache on her upper lip, Joel in the corner of the frame giving me a thumbs up.
‘It’s almost nine,’ Callum said, brushing my damp hair back to cup my face in his hands. ‘Everyone’ll be wondering what’s happened to us.’
He smiled, pupils dilated, dimples appearing in his cheeks as his goofy grin spread ever wider. I dropped my phone on the bed and my hands covered his hands. I had to be touching him at all times.
‘They’ll live,’ I told him. ‘Probably something good on the telly,Chitty Chitty Bang Bang,Sound of Music.’
‘Mum doesn’t let us watch TV on Christmas morning.She still forces us all to go to church first then it’s no telly until after lunch.’
‘That’s a denial of basic human rights,’ I gasped. ‘I’m so sorry for your suffering. But you’re right, we should make an appearance. Also, I’m bloody starving.’
‘Wait.’ Callum rushed across the room to the fireplace. ‘I’ve got something for you.’
He looked almost shy as he unhooked one of the stockings and held it out in front of him.
‘You said your mum always filled your stocking,’ he explained. ‘It’s not much, it’s just—’
Without taking it from him, I cut him off with a kiss. Stars exploded, fireworks shot off and I didn’t even care what was inside the stocking because I knew what was inside his heart. He was a good man. A kind, sweet, considerate man, and the thought that he had ever believed himself to be anything else ate me up.
‘Thank you,’ I said, standing on my tallest tiptoes, arms looped around his neck.
‘You don’t even know what it is yet,’ he replied, a glassy, happy glow in his eyes. ‘Could be a lump of coal.’
‘I’m sure there are plenty of people downstairs who will tell you that’s all I deserve.’
Releasing my grip, I took the stocking and stuck my hand inside to find three small packages. Callum took the stocking as I pulled out the slightly larger of the three and tore open the wrapping paper. Inside was a great big bag of Swedish candy.
‘The food of your homeland,’ he grinned. ‘Don’t worry, I made sure it’s vegan.’
‘So thoughtful,’ I laughed and he held open the stocking for me to pull out the second gift.
‘Ah, that’s in case you decide to leave the spa and go into business for yourself. I don’t know if they’re the proper ones but at least there’s something to get you started.’
Two palm-sized smooth, rounded rocks, so dark they were almost black, tumbled out of their loosely taped wrapping paper and into my hand and my smile stretched so wide, my cheeks ached.
