him, my legs in-between his splayed ones, his arms wrapped around my waist.
‘Oh, but you are. And it’s sexy as hell.’ His voice roughened as he said it, causing a bolt of heat to sear through me, frazzling whatever was currently left of my thoughts. His day old scruff grazed my face tantalisingly as he kissed along my jawline before finally, finally finding my mouth again. His arms tightened around me and I pulled him closer, my hands at his neck, wanting him more than I had ever thought possible. His eyes glistened when, eventually he pulled away.
‘Katie Stone I love you. I know that you’ve had a hard time with things, that you’ve been hurt, and I know I’m a long way from perfect, but spending time with you has made me a happier man than I ever thought it possible to be again. You’ve made me a better man too and I want to continue to improve on that. But I can’t do that without you.’
I didn’t say anything. The words were there, in my head, but I couldn’t get them out.
‘Of course, if you refuse, I’m just going to have to go right home and mess up that house again. And keep messing it up until you realise that we’re meant to be together. That we were always meant to be together.’
Those damn words in my head still wouldn’t come out so I curled my fingers into his jacket, pulled him towards me and kissed him instead. He got the message.
***
Last night, on Christmas Eve, the whole family had descended on Michael’s house and turned it into chaos, a wonderful, warm, loving chaos, which I was absorbed into immediately. It seemed that the rest of the family had been kept informed on the progress of The Christmas Project through Janey. Ostensibly, this was meant to refer to the transformation of the house where the festivities were planned to take place. But as Janey relayed this, there was a little twinkle in her eye. I saw Michael give her an amused, but suspicious, look before turning that gaze on me.
‘I have a feeling we may have been set up.’ His arm curled around me, pulling me in against his hard body.
‘I have a feeling you may be right.’ As I rested my head against his broad chest, watching children and adults smack the daylights out of imaginary sports balls on the television, I realised that sometimes not being in total control of everything wasn’t such a bad thing.
Michael held my hand as we padded down the stairs. Outside the light had yet to show itself and despite splashing his face with water and cleaning his teeth, Michael still looked half asleep. And so damn beautiful that I was severely tempted to turn straight around and back upstairs. Except that was half the reason we were so tired already.
‘What are you smiling at?’
He’d caught me.
‘You.’
‘Do I amuse you?’
‘Yes.’
He cocked an eyebrow.
‘In a good way.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He snuggled his face down into the hollow of my neck and just held me for a moment, taking advantage of the fact that I was still a step or two behind him. And then I felt his fingers splay around my waist and his lips move slowly up my neck.
‘Michael,’ I whispered, not for a moment wanting him to stop.
He dropped his forehead onto my shoulder and made a low groan. Lifting his head, he gave it a brief shake, grinned and tugged me onwards down the stairs.
‘Katie! Uncle Mikey!’
An assortment of nieces and nephews charged towards us as we entered the living room, and, at a glance, all of them far more awake than any one of the adults present. Pilot, already adorned with a collar of red tinsel, stood waiting patiently for his master’s morning greeting. Michael and I both gave him a big cuddle and head rub before he went bouncing happily back to sit by the tree, and was soon further decorated by a giggling nephew popping a sticky bow on the top of his head. Merry Christmas hugs and kisses were then exchanged between everyone else and a corner of sofa freed up. Michael flopped down on it, pulling me onto his lap, cuddling me into him as fresh coffee was poured for us from the steaming pot on the sideboard.
I rested my head on Michael’s shoulder, watching the children, listening to the banter between the adult siblings and the pretend remonstrations of them from their own parents and grandparents. The only light came from the delicate white fairy lights Michael and I had fixed all around the picture rail and those on the tree. The soft illumination, devoid of any other, lent it a perfect magical Christmas air.
As Michael gratefully took the mug from his brother, the clock on the mantelpiece gave out its gentle musical chime. Michael looked over at it, squinted, then groaned.
‘It’s 6 a.m. On a day off.’
Ripples of laughter washed through those around us.
‘Welcome to our world!’ they laughed.
And as I sat there, in the arms of the man I loved, in the midst of it all, I thought that it really was the most wonderful world to be a part of.
Loved The Christmas Project? Then turn the page to enjoy another Christmas treat from Maxine Morrey in her debut snowy novel
Winter’s Fairytale
Out now!
Chapter One
There were whole chapters dedicated to the throwing of the bouquet in the very many books I had pored over in the run up to this day, all instructing me on How To Have The Perfect Wedding. Oddly enough, there wasn’t one sentence referring to the appropriate etiquette involved in throwing your first ever punch instead. In fact, there was also a conspicuously absent chapter on what to do if your spineless fiancé decides that the actual wedding day is the best time to tell you he doesn’t want to get married. Not that it mattered. It turned out I didn’t need tuition on how to punch – I was a natural, apparently. Unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on whose perspective you were looking at it from – my ex Groom To Be hadn’t even had the guts to turn up to the church at all. Which is why Rob, the best man, a perfectly nice bloke, was sat on his backside on the vestry floor, holding a hastily acquired wodge of tissues to his now bleeding nose.
‘I’m so sorry!’ I held out my hand to help him up and he, understandably, looked at it warily before opting to push himself up. I let my hand fall back down to my side.
‘I don’t know what came over me. That obviously wasn’t really meant for you. But honestly? It was either you or the vicar.’
We both glanced over at the vicar who had paled and was now the same colour as his crisp white robe.
Rob nodded. ‘You probably made the right choice,’ he pulled the tissues away and looked at them briefly before shoving them back on his nose, ‘I think.’
An awkward silence settled on the three of us.
‘I really had no idea.’ Rob said, his voice muffled
