Nel chuckles at her brother before turning to me. “I’m fine. Just a little cold.”
It would be really easy to offer to warm her up but I think that might be a little too much, too soon for Harry. He seems to understand my thought process though because he screws his face up in disgust and wanders into the lounge muttering something about not being drunk enough for this. Nel and I chuckle, left alone in the kitchen.
“Areyouokay?” she asks me.
“Peachy,” I reply with a smug smile that has her gaze dropping to my mouth and her lip clenched between her teeth.
“What Harry said…” she starts as though to defend him but trails off, unsure what to say, but I take her face in my hands.
“Harry and I are good, don’t you worry, little elf.” She smiles, her cheeks moving beneath my palms.
“Apparently he’s going to mess you up if you make me cry.” Her amused smirk tells me her money would be on me in that altercation.
I smile back at her and lean down so our lips are a breath apart. “If I hurt you, I’ll let him.” I kiss her gently and she leans into me, returning my kiss with delicate flicks of her tongue against my lips. I grant her access as my hands roam to find the soft curvature of her arse and squeeze at her cheeks with some force.
Smiling against me, she interrupts our little tongue tango to say, “This is how we got into trouble in the first place, Mr. Partridge.”
“Yeah, we should probably get back in there before someone comes and catches us being naughty again.”
“Bad form to be naughty at Christmas.”
I take a step back before we start sucking face again but take her hand in mine and bring her knuckles to my lips. “Don’t worry, little elf. Santa’s taking the day off.”
She chuckles as I plant a reverent kiss on the back of her hand.
We sit separately when we get back into the lounge, but my eyes keep being drawn to Nel. She seems so relaxed, so open. We’re playing more games but Oscar has lost interest and sits cross legged between Nel’s legs where she’s sat on the floor, her back against the couch where Harry sits. Oscar is reading a book while Nel tickles at his back absentmindedly while laughing at Rhiannon trying to hum a tune for us all to guess and getting more and more frustrated when we can’t interpret her drunken warbling.
The twins fall asleep in the middle of the room snuggling into each other and looking all kinds of cute in their little matching Christmas outfits. Luke picks up Margot to take her to bed and I automatically do the same to Freddie, cradling the little one to my shoulder.
“You two coming up to bed?” I look at my Godsons, Oscar struggling to keep his eyes open and Lucas is still practically vibrating with energy. He looks to his mother in question and she doesn’t give him the answer he wants.
“I think it’s time for bed, bub.”
“Okay,” he says but with an attitude that says he is far from okay with it.
“Come on, buddy.” I hold my hand out to him and he does the same for Oscar so we follow Luke up the stairs in a chain. I let the boys do their thing in the bathroom while I follow Luke to one of the spare rooms and lay Freddie down next to Margot on the double bed to strip her and put her into pyjamas.
“You need a hand?” Despite the fact that the kids fell asleep amongst the revelry downstairs, not even disturbed by their mother’s awful attempts at musicality, I find myself whispering here in the quiet of this room.
“Nah, you’re fine,” Luke matches my whisper. “Thanks for bringing him up, I don’t think Rhiannon was in the best state,” he chuckles.
“She’s certainly having a good time.”
“She is, she deserves it too.” The smile on his face portrays the utter adoration he has for his wife and my mind goes straight to Nel again, wondering if my face lights up like that when I think of her.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” I say, shaking the mushy thoughts from my head.
The boys are in their room—well, it’s Oscar’s room as Lucas’ room is being used for Gordan and Hen—and in their pyjamas when I get there.
“Alright, what story are we reading?” I ask, going to the bookshelf.
“I’m okay without a story, Uncle Jake,” Lucas yawns.
“Well, it’s not just about you,” I say softly, turning to look at Lucas but he just jerks his head to Oscar’s bed, where Oscar is out cold. “Oh.”
“I don’t like Oscar’s books, they’re too young for me.”
“Okay, well Hen and Gordan are still downstairs, want me to go into your room and get one of your books?”
