Christmas Hearts

by Nina Levine

  Smacking him playfully, I say, “I get it, you were right, but I still wanted to give him these months to get used to me being around.”

  Fury wanted me to move in with him as soon as we got together. He tried his best to boss me into it and hasn’t let up over the past four months, but I held my ground. I didn’t want to force myself onto his son; I wanted us to take our time and get a good feel for each other. I also wanted that time to date Fury. To get to know each other after four years of not being in each other’s life. I was scared that rushing straight into living with him might put too much pressure on our new relationship.

  He grins as he moves off the bed. “Let’s be honest. You were still taking that test drive, weren’t you? Making sure I lived up to your expectations.”

  I shrug as I stand and head for the en suite. “Maybe.”

  He closes the distance between us and backs me up against the wall, his hands all over me. The man can’t keep them to himself. “I’m taking it I passed.”

  A smile tugs at my lips. “I guess you could read that into the situation. But don’t forget I still have my apartment until I find someone to take over the lease. Maybe I’m still test driving you.” I grind myself against him. “Maybe you should remain on your best behaviour. For instance, I’m not opposed to having a man slave.”

  He groans as I press myself against him. “You play dirty, woman.”

  “You love it dirty.”

  Letting me go, he backs away, looking pained. “I only like it when I can do something with it.”

  Lifting my chin at the door, I say, “Go and see your son. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Reaching for my arm, he draws me close again. He slides a hand along my jawbone and threads his fingers into my hair. “I love you” falls from his lips before he claims one last kiss.

  I expect a short kiss, but he deepens it, and if I’m reading him right, struggles to end it. When we finally come up for air, I’m breathless and panting a little. “I love you, too.”

  His eyes search mine for a long few moments, and without another word, he exits the room, leaving me a wanting mess of need.

  Goddam, it’s going to be a long day.

  Five minutes later, after I’ve freshened up, I find Fury and Noah in the lounge room. Noah looks like he’s about to burst with excitement and impatience as he holds the biggest present that was under the tree.

  I sit next to Fury on the couch as he says to Noah, “Okay, you can open it now.”

  We spend the next twenty minutes opening presents and watching as Noah loses himself in the joy of discovering each present. Fury has spoiled him a little this year. I imagine his ex wouldn’t be too impressed to see how many presents Noah received—because she made it clear to him her thoughts on spoiling their son—but I get it. Fury feels a lot of guilt over being away so much. He told me he knows he went overboard on the presents, but I told him to give himself grace. There’s no perfect way to parent and he’s simply doing the best he can.

  As Noah sits surrounded by his presents, seemingly unable to decide which one to play with first, Fury whispers against my ear, “Are you ready for your birthday presents?”

  “You bought me more than one?”

  “I do recall you telling me years ago that you’re not okay with receiving one present to cover both Christmas and your birthday, so I covered all my bases by buying way more than one present. I figure this might protect me if I fuck up one year and only get you one.”

  Something tells me Fury won’t ever fuck that up, but I wanna keep him on his toes, so I say, “Nope. Fair warning: nothing will protect you if you do that.”

  He shakes his head playfully. “You know how to work your man hard.”

  I loop my hands around his neck. “Am I gonna see these presents or are we just going to sit here and talk about them?”

  Scooping me into his arms, he lifts me and says to Noah, “Come with us, Noah. We’re gonna show Zara her birthday present.”

  Noah’s head jerks up and his eyes blaze with enthusiasm. Pushing himself up off the floor, he says, “Ooh, trees, trees!”

  Fury chuckles and says, “Shh, it’s a secret, remember?”

  Noah’s eyes widen as his hand crashes over his mouth.

  Fury lets me down and reaches for his son’s hand. “It’s all good, but let’s not ruin the whole surprise, okay?”

  I’m so intrigued as to what this present could be and that’s only heightened when the two of them lead me out to the front yard.

  Noah lets go of his father’s hand and runs across the lawn to the corner garden he and Fury have been working on for a couple of weeks. “Zara! Come look!”

  “I love his excitement,” I say to Fury before hurrying to where Noah is waiting for me.

  As I draw closer, I realise what they got me for my birthday: a garden. This garden they’ve been working on together.

  Fury comes up behind me and slips his arms around my waist. Bending his mouth to my ear, he says, “Happy birthday.”

  I place a hand over his at my waist. “You really think I can keep these plants alive?”

  “You’ve kept one plant alive this year. I think you’re ready for this next level.”

  “It’s going to be pink!” Noah says as he walks all around the garden inspecting the plants.

  “These plants weren’t here yesterday,” I say to Fury as I turn in his arms. “Did you plant them last night?”

  He smiles. “Yeah.”

  “That’s why you slept in. What time did you come to bed?”

  I’d kept him awake for hours after we arrived home from Mum’s dinner. I can only imagine how little sleep he’s had.

  “Don’t worry about my sleep.” His hand lands on my ass and he pulls me closer. “What you need to start thinking about are all the ways you’re gonna show me how much you love this garden.”

  I love it when he’s playful like this. Each time he comes home from Melbourne, it takes him a couple of days to shake off the dark mood the club war shrouds him in. I give him the space to do that and I’m always then blessed with this side of him.

  “Trust me, I have lots of things on my list, but I’m a little concerned my man might be too tired for any of them tonight. We may need to let you rest for a few days.”

  “Daddy, let Zara go. I wanna show her the plants,” Noah says, his voice taking on the insistent tone that means we have less than a minute before he hounds us to give him all our attention.

  Fury ignores his son for another few moments and keeps his gaze pinned to mine. What he’s communicating in his eyes causes a whoosh of flutters in my belly. “You should know by now that I don’t rest.” He brings his mouth to my ear again and says just loud enough for me to hear, “The minute I drop Noah off this morning, we’re getting started on your list. And I don’t give a fuck if that means we’re late to lunch.”

  “Daddy!” Noah says, grabbing Fury’s arm and pulling hard.

  Fury lets me go, and after one last lingering look at me, he finally gives Noah the attention he wants. “How about you tell Zara about the plants we chose for her, little man?”

  This makes Noah happy and he attempts to give me a rundown on the plants. When he stumbles over some of the names, Fury helps him out. By the time they finish talking, I feel even more love for these two than I already felt. They not only built this garden together, but they also listened to me every time we went to the nursery, taking note of the plants I liked. And when Fury tells me one last thing about the garden, I’m sure my heart will explode with love for him.

  Pointing at the camellia sasanquas he’s planted—a plant I really love—he says, “There’re five of those. One for every birthday since we met.”

  I stare at him, speechless for a good few moments. I’ve never had a man in my life as thoughtful as he is. When I finally find my words, I say, “I love you and I’m pretty sure you’re now protected if you ever screw up with my birthday and Christmas presents,” before crashing my lips to his a
nd showing him how much I love my present.

  When the kiss ends, he says, “You know I’m never fucking that up, Zara. I intend to be yours forever, so I’m never fucking anything up.”

  It’s not even 8:00 a.m. and this is already my favourite birthday and Christmas ever.

  5

  Birdie

  * * *

  “Birdie, have you heard a word I’ve said to you?” Mum asks early Christmas morning while I stand in her kitchen staring at the kettle waiting for it to boil. She’s been prattling on about her latest dating adventure, and while I did start out paying attention, my thoughts drifted off when she got to the bit about the guy still working in the same job for the same company for the past thirty-five years. I mean, who does that?

  “Yes, I’m listening,” I lie.

  She plants her hands on her hips and gives me her “you’re lying” look. “You were not.”

  I stare back at her trying to win this little detour in conversation, but I know it’s pointless. “Seriously, how is he not bored out of his brain still doing the same job for all these decades?”

  “Seriously, why are you focussing on that rather than the fact he wants me to wear leather, strap on a collar, and submit to whatever he tells me to do?”

  I almost choke on my own tongue. “Jesus, are you going to?” Not that I’m against a little BDSM if that’s what people are into, but my mother? I can’t even imagine it. She’d likely smack him away if he tried to dominate her.

  Her eyes widen. “Darling, I like a strong man, but if I ever tell you I have a safe word, have me committed.”

  “You have a safe word?” Winter says to Mum as he enters the kitchen and catches the end of our conversation. He appears as perplexed with the idea as I was.

  “God, no,” Mum says. “But the guy I’ve been dating wants me to.”

  “You gonna keep seeing him?” Winter asks.

  “Not if I can help it,” Mum says.

  I slide my hand around his waist when he comes to me, and take hold of his face with my other hand so I can pull him down for a kiss. “Merry Christmas,” I murmur once I end the kiss. “How was your run?” He’s been gone for a good hour and is sweaty as hell, but I don’t care. I’ll take him any way I can get him. Especially since I’ve been in Sydney for the last week before he joined me late yesterday afternoon.

  He brushes his lips over mine again, whispering, “Fuck, you taste good.” Then, pulling away, he says, “The run was good, but it’s hot out there. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

  “Winter,” Mum says as he grabs the cold water out of the fridge. “I know you said you’re leaving tomorrow, but I’m missing my son-in-law. I’ve hardly seen you this year. Are you sure you can’t stay another few days?”

  I make eyes at my mother. We’ve discussed this and I’ve made it clear to her not to harass him about staying longer.

  She makes eyes back at me. Of course she does; she thinks she can get away with anything when it comes to Winter. He humours her more than anyone, but she’s about to find out that on this topic, he humours no one.

  The light in his eyes disappears. “No, I can’t, Jennifer.”

  Mum’s eyes widen a little. Winter never calls her by her full name anymore. “Not even an extra day? You could go home the day after Boxing—”

  Winter’s face turns to stone. “I’ve said no and I mean no. This isn’t up for negotiation.” He guzzles his glass of water and exits the kitchen without another word to either of us. I take in the set of his shoulders as he leaves; they’re hard as stone too.

  “Goodness,” Mum says, looking like she’s just been fully chastised. “I don’t recognise him this trip. He’s like a whole different man.”

  Mum hasn’t seen Winter in four months. A lot has happened in those months. Plus, it’s Christmas and that always brings out his darker side. “Remember it’s Christmas, Mum. Max is on his mind at this time of year. And you know he’s got the club stuff consuming him at the moment. I told you not to give him hell about this.”

  “Well, all I can say is I hope things change soon, because I’m concerned you’re losing the man you married.”

  Winter is not the man I married. I lost parts of him years ago when he lost more than anyone should lose in their lifetime. There are pieces of him still in there, but life stole some pieces it shouldn’t have. Mum doesn’t often get a glimpse into any of this because, like she said, she hardly sees him anymore. And I don’t often discuss him with her. Not in this way. She wouldn’t understand because she doesn’t understand club life. She hears about our fertility battles and my work issues, and random life stuff, but anything to do with the club is kept between Lily and me. She’s my go-to person when I need to get that stuff off my chest.

  “Please don’t bring any of this up with him. I just want us to have a nice Christmas together,” I say.

  She watches me silently for a few moments before nodding her agreement. Thankfully, she lets the subject go. “Speaking of which, what time do you think you’ll be back from your lunch at Lily’s? I’m trying to co-ordinate everyone for dinner tonight and I thought it might be nice for us to get together earlier so we can really catch up.”

  “How about four o’clock? I don’t think Winter wants to stay too long at this lunch.”

  “Can you go and check that time with him so I can confirm it for Lucas and Carey?”

  I agree and head into the guest bedroom Winter and I are staying in. I find him in the bathroom standing under the shower with both hands pressed to the tiles and his head bowed. I can’t see his face, but I don’t need to in order to know he’s not in a good place. That information is written all over his body.

  This year has been the hardest one we’ve ever lived through together. And that’s saying something because the last eight have been hard. Through it all, we’ve stayed strong, but I’ve recently admitted to myself that I think we may need some help with what we’re going through now. I’m beginning to think there might be a limit for a couple with what they can cope with, and I think maybe we’ve reached that limit. I’m worried if we don’t seek help, we might slowly unravel, and that’s not a place I ever want to get to.

  “Hey,” I say, not wanting to intrude on his quiet time but also wanting nothing more than to get in the shower with him and wrap my arms around him. To soothe him. To help him move through the pain he’s feeling.

  He doesn’t move except to swing his head to the side and look at me. The torment in his eyes hits me in the chest and I feel it too. God, how I feel it.

  We’re drowning here.

  I can’t not be with him, so I pull my clothes off and open the shower door to join him. Placing my hand to his back, I move against him, sliding my body around his so I’m in between him and the shower wall. Winter has packed on a lot of muscle in the last twelve months while pushing himself to get as strong as he can. I think it’s been his way of dealing with not only his club battle but also with our personal battle. When I’m this close to him, I feel tiny, and whenever his arms circle me, I feel so damn safe that I don’t ever want to be anywhere but in his arms. This time, though, his arms don’t come around me. He keeps his hands to the tiles either side of my body and stares down at me, not uttering a word.

  “Is it Max?” I ask softly.

  His eyes search mine before he pushes off from the tiles. Water from the shower cascades over him and he reaches for the showerhead to redirect it away from him. “Yeah. And the club.” Reaching for me, he adds, “And us. Fuck.”

  The jagged tone of his voice nearly breaks me. Nearly. But I hold my shit together. For him. “Do you want to talk about it?” Winter’s not a big talker. Not about his shit, anyway. He loves to get me to talk when I’m going through stuff, but when it comes to him, he shuts down and tries to process his pain alone. I’ve learned over the years not to force him into talking because it never ends well for us when I do that.

  He cups the back of my head and pulls my mouth to his. “No.”
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  His lips claim mine at the same time his hands reach for my ass. When he lifts me, I wrap my arms and legs around him, grateful that we have each other. Grateful that no matter what we’ve gone through, we’ve clung to our love.

  We lose ourselves in this kiss. After a week apart—because Winter insisted I come to Sydney before him so I could spend time with my family—we reunited last night with the kind of sex that staying at your mother’s house allows for. It wasn’t bad sex, but it wasn’t what we’re used to, and God how I’m missing some hot, rough sex with my husband.

  “Fuck,” he rasps, coming up for air.

  Breathless, I grip his face and pull his mouth back to mine. “Don’t fucking stop.”

  Our kiss grows demanding. Urgent. Frantic.

  Our bodies are pressed so hard together we could almost be one.

  Our need is frenzied.

  “Christ, Birdie.” Winter lets go of me so he can drop to his knees. Hooking one of my legs over his shoulder, he brings his mouth to my pussy and runs his tongue along it while rubbing his thumb over my clit.

  I cry out with pleasure, not even caring if my mother can hear me. I can’t censor myself any longer. Gripping his hair, I push the back of his head to keep his face against my pussy. I need more from his tongue. From his beard. From his fingers.

  “Oh fuck,” I almost scream when he alternates between his tongue inside me and his fingers. And when he works me deep inside with those fingers while running his tongue over and over my clit, I completely abandon myself to the pleasure.

  “Oh God, oh God.” It becomes a chant.

  I squeeze his hair.

  I press myself harder against his face.

  I pant through my building orgasm.

  “Fuck!” This time it’s a scream as I shatter. Every nerve ending is lit from the bliss Winter has delivered.

  He unhooks my leg from his shoulder and stands. Wiping my cum from his beard, he growls, “We’re going back to me doing that every morning. Life’s too fucking short not to taste you every day.”