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Mel sits next to Finn at dinner and this time, when their thighs touch under the table, she doesn’t move away, even if it’s a sort of torture. At some point he takes her hand, linking their fingers together on the table—and it is so easy, so natural, to fall back into this pattern with him.

When they move into the living room after dinner, Hattie insists on a game of Who Am I, and only once she loses the last round, unable to guess that she’s Jane Austen, does Kristen insist it’s time for bed.

“But why is Santa coming to this house, if we’re staying in that one?” Freya asks, frowning between her mum and her dad.

“Because Santa is a genius,” Hattie declares.

“He’ll know where to come because the stockings are hanging here,” Kristen says. And, indeed, stockings are currently hanging in all their red velvet glory above the woodburning stove, next to the Christmas spice candles.

“And how will he even fit down there,” Freya asks, looking skeptically at the stove—which is nowhere near as big as her fireplace at home.

“He’s been on a diet,” Finn says, and earns a snort from Hattie and one of Freya’s skeptical looks in return.

“Come on,” Kristen says. “Let’s get the mince pies.” That seems to placate Freya, who helps to put out a mince pie and a glass of sherry for Santa and a carrot for Rudolf, then manages one last look at all the presents under the tree before Mark and Kristen take her off to the cottage next door, telling everyone they’ll see them in the morning. Susan uses this as an excuse to head up to bed, too, kissing all four of them on the cheek before heading up.

“God, I’m just so stuffed,” Hattie says, sprawling on the sofa next to Mel, so that she’s taking up the majority of the room—impressive, really, given how small she is.

“Maybe it was the third mince pie that did it,” Finn says mildly.

Hattie waves him off, then groans, putting a hand on her stomach. “I’m going to have nightmares, for sure. I always do if I eat too much.”

“Well, why don’t we go for a walk, burn some of it off?” Dylan asks, who is standing next to Finn, their backs to the woodburning stove.

Hattie wrinkles her nose. “In the dark?”

Dylan laughs. “Well, why not?”

Hattie purses her lips, then concedes with a shrug. “Yeah. Why not?” She allows Dylan to pull her to her feet, and winks at Mel as they grab their coats. “See you kids later.”

And then it is just her and Finn. For a moment, it is quiet as they just look at each other. His gaze is so focused on hers that she feels something jump in her stomach. She becomes very aware that she’s sitting down, and that he’s standing, and immediately gets to her feet. Then she feels ridiculous, like she’s called attention to herself for no particular reason.

He is watching her, and she feels the weight of his focus as he takes a step toward her. She mirrors him. The corner of his mouth pulls up. “Hi,” he says.

She smiles. “Hi.”

He takes another step toward her and she tilts her chin up to look at him. He reaches out, runs his thumb lightly over her jaw. Her breath catches, and his gaze drops to her mouth. He moves slowly, eyes flickering to hers once more. Asking for permission, she knows.

She’s the one to close the last gap between them, the one to take his mouth in hers. Her arms wind around his neck, and his hands come to her waist. His tongue sweeps in, hungry, tender, and she presses herself against him, needing every inch of her against every inch of him.

He draws back, the gray in his eyes storm-cloud dark. Without a word, he moves his hands from her waist, holds one out for her to take. Another question. She links her fingers with his, following him upstairs. Neither of them speaks, but she can feel her heart beat in the back of her throat, a sense of anticipation coiling in the base of her stomach.

She goes into their bedroom first, and he shuts the door with a quiet click. Then her hands are in his hair, and his mouth is gliding down her throat and oh God, finally. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back as his mouth nips lightly, humming her approval. He turns her, moving her so that her back is against the door, then hesitates, pulling back.

He kisses the corner of her mouth, featherlight. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She runs her hands up his back, feeling solid muscle beneath his shirt, muscle built from all that work he does in houses, rather than hours at the gym.

“Yes,” she says, no trace of doubt.

“Do you think maybe we should—”

She frames his face with her hands. “Don’t,” she whispers. His gaze meets hers, searching. But she doesn’t want to talk about what this means, what’s in store for the future, whether or not this is a good decision. She doesn’t want to crash back down to reality, and she doesn’t want to lose this chance to have him one last time. “Just for tonight, let’s allow ourselves this.”

She moves her hands, running them over his chest, and he nods. He kisses her neck, the soft skin under her heart. Then, finally, her mouth again, and she closes her eyes, losing herself in it. His calloused hands run up under her top and she shudders with the feel of them, nerve endings firing. She lifts her hands up, letting him pull her top off her, so that she is there in only her bra. She sees the way his eyes glaze as his thumb sweeps up the outside curve of her breast, and her whole body lights up.

She tugs at his shirt, helping him to pull it off, and feels relief as she touches him, running her hands up the smooth contours of his chest. His hands move to the back of her thighs and his grip tightens, then he lifts her, pressing her farther against the door. She hooks her legs around his waist as he bites down on her neck, sweeps his tongue over that spot, tasting salt. She hears him groan, his fingers tightening their hold, and together they rock against each other.

Need stretches out in every direction as she arches her spine to get more friction against him. She reaches down for the button on his jeans, but they are pressed too tightly together, and she lets out a frustrated huff. He laughs, just enough of a dark edge there to make her nipples tighten, and lets go of her thighs, lowering her gently to the floor.