Chapter 10

10

Mack

It smells like a bakery in here. A yummy, fatty bakery full of food I want to put in my mouth. I can't stop looking around at our living room. I have no idea how Davey managed all of this in one afternoon, but Griff's sudden need for help with his back deck makes sense. Considering I'm not the most handy guy, I'd been so confused why he needed my help. And outside . It was fucking cold.

It was all worth it though. My body has thawed from the inside out, and if it took a disastrous camping trip to make this happen, I'll gladly live through that nightmare again. Our tree looks like the decorations have thrown up on it, and it's definitely more bottom heavy than anything, but I've never seen a better sight. Even when Van and Kiera get into a fight over a Santa ornament, Davey just scoops Kiera up to put the star on top, and the whole meltdown is avoided .

When they're almost finished, I lean back against the couch, legs stretched out in front of me and the tray of food by my side.

The feeling that settles over me isn't one I get a whole lot, so it takes me a moment to place it. Not confusion, not like I've taken a wrong turn. This is … I think I'm content. At peace.

Acknowledging that is enough to put a damper on it though. And I don't want that. I don't want the reminder this all has to end. I want to enjoy it and be grateful for these times, these moments, and hope we can stretch them out for a little bit longer.

Maybe when the kids are older, maybe I'll have to face the changes then, but for now, I'm going to sink into the contentment of having my family here with me.

Damn, my heart feels full.

It's a feeling I could fly on.

Once the tree is done, Davey makes us monster hot chocolates with whipped cream and marshmallows, then puts a Christmas movie on. I've already eaten too much sugar, but like hell am I going to say no to this. Kiera and Van kneel at the table while they drink as Davey settles on the couch and catches my eyes.

He pats the spot beside him.

I'm all jittery inside as I slide into the space. It's where I would have eventually sat anyway—once the kids were done and settled between us—but the fact he invited me here, just us, my gut tickles over it.

I clutch my mug with both hands so I have something to do with them.

"The Grinch? Really?"

"Kiera loves it," he whispers .

"It also gives her nightmares."

Davey's pretty dark lashes flutter with an eye roll. "That was one time."

"It might happen again."

He waves a hand toward the TV. "Feel free to tell her we're watching something else."

Yeah, I'm not dumb enough to do that. I hunch down on the couch some more, judging whether I can spread my legs wide enough that my knee will touch his. Given I'm still in jeans that don't like being parted, I'm worried I'll bust open the crotch before that could happen.

Dammit.

Okay, what else?

Even thinking about this is dangerous. The three of them, surrounded by all those flowers and snowflakes, really got me in the heart, and now I'm possibly going to be maybe ruining that, all because I want to touch Davey. Would he let me move closer? What about snuggle? It's not something we've done in years, and definitely not since we broke up, but men do that, right? When they're friends. Could we snuggle as two friends ?

I shoot him a quick glance and find him already watching me. He catches his face in time because the soft look snaps into an easy smile before he turns back to the TV.

Something I need to do as well. The TV. The movie. We're watching it together, and I'm definitely not being distracted by my ex-husband and the insanely sweet thing that he did.

This is the sort of thing I should be planning.

Dammit, why is it that the one person who would kill it at planning sweet things for us to do is the one person I can't go to for help? Even I'm not dumb enough to be all hey, babe, can you help me plan a date for us that I can use to get you back?

Davey's knee drops against mine .

My gaze zeros in on the contact, wondering if he read that play from my own mind. He's wearing soft sweats—a pair of mine, I think?—which makes movement easier, and maybe I should excuse myself to go and get changed too.

Though now I'm more curious about excusing myself to go and see if that same pair of sweats is in my drawer. If Davey's wearing mine, I'll have no choice but to demand he removes them at once. Uh … after the kids are in bed. But then. Then he'd have to give them back. Immediately. While I stood there and watched.

"You okay?" he leans in to ask.

"Yup."

"Then why are you … are you panting?"

Ah. Fuck. I was breathing loudly. Not panting , but the thought of Davey taking his pants off is getting me hard. I really, really, really need to stop my mind from going there.

"Need to take a piss." I ditch my hot chocolate on the table and jog upstairs, hoping the exertion will get my cock to behave. He's my ex for a reason, and those reasons haven't changed.

But, fuck.

It's been years.

Maybe not for him, but I just can't bring myself to sleep with anyone else. As far as my dick is concerned, I'm still married, and the only guy it wants is Davey. I close my bedroom door and press my forehead to it.

This isn't fair .

Why can't I move on from him?

Okay.

Plan.

I straighten and glance over at my dresser. If my sweats are in there, I'll change into them and ignore the way I want to fuck him. I'll remember all the whys to the situation we've gotten ourselves into and forget the insanely sweet thing he did tonight.

If they're not in there … I don't think I'm strong enough to resist Davey wearing my clothes.

I flex my fists a couple of times, trying to convince myself this deal is stupid. If they're in there or not, it's not like I can just go and hit on my ex-husband.

We're in two totally different places. He's dated and slept around if his MyMatch profile is anything to go by, and I'm the forgotten ex who hasn't gotten the memo.

But daaaamn, it's been a long time. So long. If it was only one night, one hookup, would he be down for that? If he was getting it from me, casually , would he have to go out and find strange men while he's in town?

I'm sure he has his options in all the cities he visits, but Kilborough is a small place, and I don't want to be bumping into men who've sucked my husband's dick.

It's such a pretty dick.

The number of times we've been together is countless. I took it for granted, and where I could always count on another orgasm, now I struggle to even remember what he felt like against me, what he smelled like, how he sounded.

I crave it all again so much. The short visits home make these feelings manageable to resist, but it's already been two weeks of life with him, and it's not ending anytime soon. I'm one man, fighting for my life out here.

Fuck it.

With a decisiveness that doesn't come easily to me, I cross my room to the dresser and tug open the drawer. All of my pants are folded sort of neatly, and I have to sort through the stacks twice before I'm sure .

They're not here.

Those sweats he's wearing are mine.

Heat flushes my face as I strip out of my clothes and grab my thinnest, sluttiest pair of sweats. They won't keep me warm, but the kids will be asleep soon, and once that happens … I'm going to seduce my husband.

There's a soft knock at the door.

Fuck .

I scramble into the pants and tug a pajama shirt on, not bothering to button up the front before going to answer it.

Of course, it's Davey, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and a smirk on his lips.

"I thought you were taking a piss."

"Wanted to get changed too."

"Right …" His gaze trails down my torso, and I need to remind my dick that it's nothing. Its time will come. "Just put Van to bed," he murmurs. "Kiera crashed out on the couch."

"That was fast."

"Eh. It's late, and Uncle Art wore them out today." Davey turns to go. "I'll put Kiera to bed, then we can watch?—"

I reach out and pinch the waist of his pants. Davey pauses, glancing down before looking back up at me.

"What are you doing?"

Honestly, I'm on autopilot. I have no fucking clue. "These mine?"

"Oh. Yeah. You know I like—" He cuts off and shrugs. "It's never been a problem before."

"And it's not a problem now," I croak.

If I'd been holding out hope for him buying the same pair and mine being, I dunno, in the wash or something, that doubt is gone now. He's wearing my sweats. I made myself a deal.

Fuck, it's hard to get the words out. Almost impossible to take that step. All I'd have to do is slip my thumb up, run it over his lower stomach, into that V I love so much.

But my hand is frozen, and I'm shitting myself with the thought.

"Mack …?"

"Yeah?"

"You need to let me go if I'm going to put Kiera to bed." His voice has deepened. This is my chance.

Kiera will be okay on the couch. If I let Davey go now, I might never get this courage again.

"You …" I'm debating what I'm going to say next until the words are already out. "You made tonight magical. You're always so good at that."

"It's nothing."

"It's not. I'm not the only one who feels it. There's a special sort of something in the air when you're here with us."

"Me?" Davey steps closer, shaking his head so those glossy black curls dance with the movement. "You've always been the one we center around. Just look at what you planned for us this weekend. I never would have thought of tonight if it wasn't for you."

"Except my plan crashed and burned." I sigh, still not letting go of him. "Sorry. That I couldn't make the weekend perfect."

"Perfect?" Davey steps closer again, and this time, his hands find my face. "My only perfect weekends are the ones with you."