If Only In Our Dreams: MM Holiday Romance (Christmas Daddies Book 3) by Fae Quin

Author:Fae Quin [Quin, Fae]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lima Studios LLC
Published: 2024-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

Robin came home with me that night. We shared a glass of wine on the couch. He told me stories about Miles as a little kid, the beach they’d grown up visiting, and I regaled him with tales about my dad and the smiles he had never seemed to run out of.

It was odd.

I’d never felt this close with anyone other than Trixie, and even that was different.

There was no underlying current of sexual tension there.

I’d certainly never looked at her and wondered what her tongue tasted like.

Robin was my catnip. He made me laugh the way no one ever had before. He brought out emotions I hadn’t even known I could feel. He made my heart feel light, my hands sweaty. He filled my belly with butterflies every time he smiled. And when he was sitting next to me, the rest of the world ceased to exist. All its what-ifs and worst-case-scenarios completely gone.

When I was with him, all the years before him melted away. Like there had only been him all along, I just hadn’t known it yet. And for the first time in my life I was beginning to wonder if love at first sight existed outside of fairytales.

“Am I spending the night again?” Robin asked, voice mellow. He’d finished his glass of wine. It sat sentinel on the coffee table beside my laptop. This morning I’d woken up earlier than usual—before even the girls were up—to get some work done on my book.

“You are,” I told him, and the smile he sent my way silenced any concerns I might’ve had that he didn’t want to.

“Are you gonna do that thing to my dick again?” Robin’s tone was sultry-soft.

Quirking a brow, I shifted closer. “I don’t know,” I hummed just to tease him. I loved how open and honest he was. I loved the way he held nothing back most of the time. The way he wore his heart on his sleeve. The way that beneath his bluster he was timid as a mouse.

I don’t think he’d ever gotten a chance to be anything other than brave.

He was a fighter, I knew that.

But I didn’t think he liked fighting.

And after hearing about his parents—the story he’d told me about his father in particular—I got the feeling that no one had ever taken care of Robin Johnson.

At least…not the way he deserved.

He looked tired.

Like he hadn’t been sleeping again. Which was odd, considering how soundly he seemed to rest whenever I was around.

There were so many things I wanted to ask him. Questions about his past. Questions about his medical history. Questions about what he wanted to do after Christmas, and if there was room in his life for someone like me. If he still wanted to be a dad. If he didn’t mind early mornings, and chocolate chip pancakes, and LilPoe reruns.

But I didn’t ask him any of those questions. Because this was new, and he was warm and exhausted.

And I wanted to be a safe space for him.

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