LOVING SANTA'S GIFT

Emma's POV 

The next few days passed in a hazy blur. I'd gone back to Declan's apartment the other day after Liam ravaged my body again, fully prepared to snatch my suitcase and ghost him forever. 

But fate had other plans. I bumped into both him and Fiona at the lobby. She clung to his arm like a trophy and they both froze when they saw me. 

I didn't say a word. I simply smiled, kept walking and dragged my suitcase behind me with a silent pride. Declan didn't even try to stop me and that stung more than I'd expected. 

But that pain didn't last long. Because back at Liam's house, the real distraction began. 

I woke up that morning to warm lips wrapped around my nipple and a strong hand sliding between my thighs. 

A sharp moan left my throat. "Liam..."

"Good morning to you too," he murmured against my skin, his voice deep and rough from sleep.

His fingers stroked my c**t expertly, he already knew what made me squirm. We hadn't exactly been keeping things 'fake' in the bedroom. Since I moved into his house, this has become our routine. Me waking up to his mouth, his hands, his thick c**k and sinful body.

A gasp left my mouth when he slid two fingers inside me, curling them in a way that made my legs tremble violently.

"You're already so wet," he said as he brushed his lips against my jaw. 

"Maybe because you keep waking me up like this," I managed to say, digging my fingers into his shoulder.

He gave a low chuckle and kissed my stomach. "Complaining?"

"Never," I whispered. 

After a few more strokes he went inside me, stretching me in a way that felt almost too much, but just right. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he began with slow and deep thrusts. 

God, how did a man like this exist?

He was 34. Ten years older than me. A grown man who knew exactly what he was doing with his hands, mouth and definitely his c**k. 

Declan, my ex, was only 27. A man-child who'd barely figured out where the clit was. 

Liam, on the other hand, had my body memorised by the second night. And it scared me how much I like it.

He fucked like he had something to prove. Like he wanted to erase every stupid memory of my past. Sometimes he did it slowly, like he was savouring me. Sometimes he lost control and took me roughly against the kitchen counter and the bedroom table.

I wasn't complaining. But I had gone to the clinic two days ago for an emergency contraceptive. I wasn't about to add a surprise baby to my list of 2025 problems.

After we both came hard and tangled in each other, I curled into his sweaty chest. 

"You know," I said, breathing fast, "for a lawyer, you're surprisingly good at... this."

He gave a small laugh. "Thanks, I guess? Law and fucking aren't that different. Both require focus, accuracy, and strategy." 

"You're ridiculous," I mumbled against his chest.

"And you're like it." 

Unfortunately... I did. This was definitely not how I planned my Christmas, but I was loving Santa's gift. 

A few hours later, I was sitting in a plane beside Liam with my stomach doing strange flips. Two weeks until Christmas and we were on our way to the Republic of Ireland, Dublin. This was where I'd have spent my holiday with Declan. 

He looked relaxed in his hoodie and jeans, scrolling through his phone like this was just another work trip. Meanwhile, I was practically vibrating in my seat, rereading the information about him he'd sent to my phone. 

Favourite food: "Mom's shepherd pie."

First pet: "a black sheep named Whisley."

Favourite hiding spot as a kid: "the barn behind their house."

Worst subject: "maths."

The thing he hates the most: "cold tea."

I muttered the facts under my breath like I was preparing for a final exam. Because I was. If I messed this up, I'd embarrass both of us in front of his family.

"You're nervous," Liam said as he gambled sideways at me. 

"Nope. I'm completely fine," I lied. 

"You're mumbling about sheep." He said, smiling slightly.

"That's because whiskey was a sheep." 

"We've got this." He said as his fingers brushed mine between the seats. "Just follow my lead." 

I laughed and relaxed a little. "Just don't leave me alone with your mom." 

'I won't. Probably." 

I shot him a glare and he winked. 

The plane landed in Dublin, and the cold December air whipped my hair around. We finally pulled up at his family's house and I wasn't sure what to expect. 

It was cosy and full of charm. Twinkling light lined the roof and the white walls. It wasn't flashy, it was big but warm and full of life. 

Inside his mother greeted us with a squeal and a hug that nearly knocked me back. Her arms were soft and her perfume reminded me of cinnamon and my late mother. 

"You must be Emma!" She gushed. "Oh look at you! You're even prettier than Liam described. 

"I blinked. "Oh... thank you." He had talked about me to his mother.

His sister Siobhán hugged me too, and then his uncle cracked a joke about Liam finally bringing home a girl who didn't look like a tax write-off.

They welcomed me as if I belonged there. It was overwhelming. I smiled, taking in a deep breath, trying to keep up with the rush of Irish accents, laughter and the smell of food in the kitchen. 

Just then, I heard a tiny voice. "Daddy?" 

Everyone turned as a small girl in red boots walked into the living room. Her brown, curly hair bounced as she rubbed her sleepy eyes. 

I could feel my heart miss some beats and resume beating faster. She looked like a tiny version of Liam. She had his stormy grey eyes and jawline. 

She blinked up at me and then whispered. "Are you my new mommy?"

BETWEEN LAUGHTER AND SCREAM

Emma's POV 

When the little girl's small voice echoed in the living room, Are you my mummy? My heart stopped. I froze mid-smile, unsure if my voice was even capable of responding.

A tiny pair of feet padded toward us, with her grey eyes widened. And for a moment, time did that funny thing where it slows down. 

"Um.." I said, choking on my words as I stepped forward.

I looked from the little girl to Liam. His mouth was open,  but then he closed it, blinked once and gently said. 

"Hey, Orla, sweetheart. You don't say that to someone you just met. Say hello first. This is Emma." 

Orla blinked shyly at me and tilted her head. Then she whispered, "Hello." Her voice was small but polite; her eyes were fixed on me, as if she were sizing me up. 

I could barely breathe. I hadn't prepared for this part because he didn't tell me he had a daughter. I wanted to say something smart. 

Instead, my voice came out as: "Hi... Orla. Your eyes are the same as your daddy's." 

Her little brows creased, and that tiny smile reformed. Before I could say anything further, Mrs Moira O'Connor, Liam's mother, burst in with a plate of steaming food. 

"Dinner is ready! Come on, everyone, sit, sit!" Her voice was loud with joy. 

Just as we were settling at the table, another pair of footsteps appeared. 

"Da," Liam said in a quiet voice. 

A tall, slightly worn man in a dark pullover entered. He had broad shoulders like Liam's, salt-and-pepper hair, and a calm face that didn't quite match his serious aura. 

"You must be Emma," he said as he brought out his hand, offering me a handshake. 

"Nice to meet you," I said, gripping his hand. His grip was firm but brief. 

"I'm Seamus," he introduced and turned his attention to Liam.

I noticed that Liam didn't hug him. Seamus didn't pat his shoulder. The only thing that passed between them was a short but heavy look. 

Dinner was surprisingly warm and filled with laughter. Liam's uncle, Padraig or uncle Paddy, makes jokes about how I pronounced Irish names. 

Siobhán kept repeating, Siobhán, no. Not See-bhon!. Liam was also getting teased for not teaching me to speak Irish. 

"Liam, when will you teach Emma how to say my name properly?" Moira teased, placing a dollop of mashed potatoes on my plate. 

"Just as soon as she survives my sisters' accents," he said, laughing. 

Siobhán leaned over. "Try saying it like She-vawn. Like a soft Shh." 

I repeated it a few times until even Uncle Paddy was laughing. "Close enough, lass!"

All the while, I kept sneaking glances at Liam. He was attentive and genuinely involved with Orla. He asked her about school, joked about her drawings and when she talked about her favourite part of all her school trips, Liam lit up in a way that made something inside me ache. 

Finally, dinner was over and I loved it. But right before we were about to excuse ourselves, Uncle Paddy spoke. 

"My daughter and her fiancé are visiting from London soon, and they'll be joining us for Christmas dinner too. Thought it'd be nice if you met them, Emma," He said, leaning back with a grin. 

I could feel my pulse race. More introductions weren't good for our plan. But I masked my face with a tight smile. "That sounds... lovely."

"Our room's this way," Liam said quietly as we ascended the stairs. 

"Are we sharing?" I asked in a tone just above a whisper.

He shrugged, then tilted his head. "There isn't an extra room unless we squeeze someone into the guest bed."

"Fine," I replied, forcing a smile. "But you better not snore." 

"You're the one who sleeps like a chainsaw in the windstorm." He opened the door to his room and entered. 

"Why didn't you tell me about Orla?" I asked, my tone softer than I expected. 

He didn't answer at first. He just looked at me. Finally, he murmured.

"Because she's not up for discussion. Not until I knew you'd be here. I didn't want to explain. 

I froze at his words. I felt my stomach sink, but instead of responding, I stepped into the bathroom and shut the door to brush my teeth.

Seconds later, I heard a knock. "Emma?" His voice came. 

I didn't want to talk. Before I could answer, he opened the door, closing the space between us. 

His presence was too close and warm. Liam didn't say anything, his eyes just held mine. And then without warning, his lips were on mine. 

It was soft at first, then harder and then hungry, like he was trying to memorise every inch of me. I should've stopped him or pushed him away. 

Instead, I whispered his name as his tongue brushed mine. I could feel my thigh become moist. But when I stood on my toes, inching closer to him we heard a sharp scream. 

"MUMMY!!"

My eyes shot open and we both froze. It was Orla. And she sounded terrified.

HER MOTHER

Emma's POV 

As my eyes fluttered open, I woke up to silence. And not the usual warmth of Liam's chest at my back or the soft press of his lips on mine. Not his teasing fingers slimming over my skin. 

I woke up to cold air and an empty bed. My eyelids closed multiple times, blinking into the dim light. I sat up and glanced to his side of the bed, but it was still made and untouched. 

That was when the memories from last night returned. Orla's scream was caused by the light in her room going off, and she was scared of the dark. Liam had quickly gotten the lights back on, but her tears hadn't stopped until he crept into her bed and promised to stay.

I had stood awkwardly by the door, staring at the affectionate moment between father and daughter before I went back to the room. He hadn't come back at night. 

I dragged myself from the bed and padded to the bathroom. The mirror was fogged, and the sink was damp. He'd been here and left, but didn't wake me. Great. 

After quickly washing up, I got dressed in a comfortable shirt and pants and stepped out into the hallway. The house was already lively with movements and voices.  

But there was no sight of Liam. I found Siobhán first in the kitchen, pouring tea into a thick ceramic mug. 

"Morning, Emma," she said with a soft smile. "Did you sleep well?"

 "Yeah. Thanks." I replied while returning the smile. Hesitating, I asked. "Umm.. do you know where Liam is?" 

She nodded. "Left for dad's mechanic workshop. He said something about checking bikes." 

My eyebrows widened. "Checking bikes at your dad's mechanic workshop." 

Siobhán's smile deepened. "Surprised? Liam's hands aren't just for courtroom drama. He spends his time checking bikes when he's back home." 

He hadn't mentioned that. Again, he'd kept another part of him away from me. 

"He's full of surprise," I said, forcing a small laugh. 

In the living room, Mrs Moira was arranging a small list. "Emma, darling," she called with the soft smile she'd given me yesterday. 

"Do you need anything? Maybe, personal items."

I could feel my chest squeeze and my heart float with warmth. "That's very kind of you." I paused and stared at her for a while. Even my aunt had never shown me such warmth and kindness. 

"Actually I forgot my moisturiser. It's the only one that doesn't make me break out."

"Write it here," she said, pushing the notepad toward me. "We'll stop by the store later."

While I was writing, she suddenly asked, "Do you know Liam's native name?" 

Looking up at her, I saw her eyes twinkle with something unexplainable. 

"Ailill," I said as I tried not to grin. "He told me it means elf or something like that. And he hates it."

For a moment, she was quiet, before she let out a laugh. "He does. One day I'll tell you how he had that name." 

I smiled and gave her a curt nod. I knew she had just tested me. Liam had warned me before we arrived. 

A little while later, Siobhán called out from the hallway, holding Orla's small coat. "I'm taking her to the park. You want to come?"

"Of course." I wanted to see what the city looked like and I needed the distraction. 

The nearest park was only a short walk away. It seemed to have snowed a bit last night, but the sun was already up. The houses we passed had their porches decorated with Christmas trees and lights. 

Ahead, Orla was running and giggling while her brown curly hair bounced under her hat. My lips curled up in a smile as I watched her. She was beautiful and a happy kid. 

Liam is lucky to have her as a kid, and she's lucky to be his daughter. Or they both are lucky to be in each other's lives. 

"She likes you," Siobhán said, bringing me out of my reverie. "You're the forest woman she's met like this." 

I stopped in my tracks. "Like this?" My brows arched, askance. 

"She doesn't usually see her dad with... anyone." Siobhán glanced at me as she explained. "Don't hurt her, Emma." 

I felt my stomach do those strange flips again, but this time it twisted. I wasn't only going to hurt her, but all of them. I've been acting a lie. 

"I won't." I managed to say. 

We found a bench near the kids' area and settled in. Conversation rolled smoothly as we talked about random things like the weather, holidays, and makeups. 

But then, we heard loud voices. Children were shouting, and I turned to see a small crowd forming near where Orla was. 

A girl who looked five years older was yelling at Orla, who was cornered away and her tiny shoulders were hunched.

I couldn't hear the words, but her face was pale and tight. Then the girl shoved her. Immediately I bolted toward them.

"Oi!" Siobhán yelled, storming ahead. 

As we reached them, the girl's mother rushed over too, glaring at us. "You have no right to shout at my child!" Her Irish accent was so thick.

"No right?" Siobhán bristled. "Your daughter was bullying a five-year-old!" Her tone was high. 

"She was defending herself," the girl's mother stretched the word like she wanted to convince herself rather than us. "The brat tried to take her toy."

Brat?

I stepped forward, feeling fury rise in my throat. "If your daughter is this mean, maybe you should ask yourself who taught her." 

Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?" 

"You're excused," I replied, as I moved closer. 

"You want respect? Teach your child how to act like a decent human being. And maybe keep your insults out of a public playground." 

I could see rage flood her eyes. "Who even are you to this child?" The woman snapped, angry. "Her nanny?" 

"I'm her mother." The words slipped out before I could even stop them. 

The rude girl's mother blinked like I'd slapped her. Siobhán's lips parted in shock, and her brows raised. Orla stared up at me, her eyes wide and unreadable. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. 

My cheeks flushed with heat, but I didn't look away. Still, I didn't correct myself, because at that moment it felt natural. 

Orla didn't say anything; instead, she stepped closer to me, and her small hand brushed mine. I felt my throat tighten. 

What did I just do? What did I just say? And why do I feel so damn right?