But even so, each night when he left her bed to return to his, after their last sex-capade of the day, it became harder and harder not to ask him to stay. And tougher still to wake up alone.
She knew why it had to be this way. Increasing the intimacy between them would be a lie, and she had to keep those questions at bay, to deal with the longing that clutched at her chest each morning when she woke to her empty bed.
Activity helped. So she established a routine for those empty mornings. Get up, get dressed, then head out to make another snowman.
Who knew she would discover she could be a morning person after all?
She loved the cold crisp mornings and building a snowman meant she didn’t have to dwell on all the unproductive thoughts, all those questions she wasn’t allowed to ask or all the emotions Leo stirred, which she couldn’t acknowledge.
There were no more snowball fights. And she suspected she knew why, as each day the intensity of the sex, and the agonising tension of tiptoeing around all the things they weren’t allowed to talk about, increased.
Leo didn’t want to give her another opportunity to blurt out her feelings.
As those feelings had begun to terrify her, she was on board with that. Avoidance was definitely the answer.
Christmas morning arrived, and she built her last snowman—but there was no sign of Leo. She tried not to get upset or anxious that he was sleeping away this special day, when it was their last full day together.
Not a big deal, Ju. This is just an epic booty call. You’ve got no claim on him and the good news is he has no claim on you.
Luckily, she’d spotted a project that should keep her busy for most of the day.
Taking the turkey she had pulled out of the freezer the night before, she hefted it into the state-of-the-art kitchen. She was busy stuffing the bird an hour later when Leo’s deep voice rumbled down her spine and his large hands settled on her stomach.
‘What’s that?’ he murmured, as his face appeared over her right shoulder and he tugged her into his embrace.
‘A snowman,’ she said, aware of her pulse hammering too hard. ‘What does it look like?’
He laughed. ‘I thought as much.’
She twisted her head and smiled at him, her heart stuttering in her chest at the sight of his jaw darkened by beard scruff, his face so handsome her breath caught every time she looked at him.
Maybe they weren’t a couple, but was it wrong to grab these moments of closeness so she could remember them when they parted?
Sympathy pulsed in her chest as she noticed the sadness in his eyes.
Christmas was hard for him; it was when his mother had died. But she could fix that today. No questions asked.
She shifted out of his arms and reached into the fridge to snag the box of fresh eggs, the sliced ham and a quart of milk. ‘Here, why don’t you make us breakfast this morning while I concentrate on this?’
‘Breakfast, huh?’ he said, standing back and holding the produce as if he had his hands full of a couple of armed grenades.
‘Yes, ham and eggs...’ She frowned at his perplexed expression...as a strange thought occurred to her. ‘Leo, you do know how to cook ham and eggs, don’t you?’
‘Why would I know how to cook ham and eggs?’ he asked, as if she’d just asked him if he knew how to soufflé a pheasant or make sushi from scratch.
‘Because everyone knows how to cook breakfast,’ she replied. Unable to prevent the little jolt in her heart rate at what an endearing figure he made.
She’d never once seen Leo out of his depth. But that air of authority had slipped—as he stood barefoot in a kitchen, wearing boxers and nothing else, with his once perfectly styled hair sticking up on one side and his jaw darkened by a week’s beard scruff, staring at the eggs and ham as if they might bite him.
‘I’ve never cooked anything in my life,’ he declared, as if that were perfectly normal.
‘Not even an egg?’ Juno asked, actually kind of shocked. She’d done all the cooking, but that was because she enjoyed it. She’d assumed he didn’t—she hadn’t realised he couldn’t.
‘Not even an egg,’ he said without hesitation. He put the supplies on the kitchen counter. ‘Why don’t you cook as usual and I’ll watch?’ He gripped her wrist and pulled her into his arms, his hand landing on her butt under the silk robe she’d thrown on after her shower.
She snorted out a laugh, despite the leap of desire coursing through her sex-obsessed body. She’d become addicted to Leo, that much was obvious, but she knew a distraction technique when she saw one. ‘Nice try, Your Majesty,’ she said.
Drawing out of his embrace, she picked up the groceries. ‘I’ve got a much better idea,’ she added. ‘Why don’t you cook while I tell you how? It’ll be my Christmas present to you, teaching you some basic cooking skills.’