She nodded. She’dbarelynodded when he picked up one of her legs and placed it over his shoulder. He nuzzled the inside of her thigh. “You’re right, though.”
“What am I right about?”
“We don’t have to rush. We have all the time we need. All this time just for us.” He kissed her thigh, slow and worshipful. “No need to rush.”
This time, when he put his mouth between her legs, he was so careful and controlled she almost collapsed from anticipation, not shock.
She eased back against the wall, trying not to let her legs shake.
“I should do this every day,” he muttered to himself in between licks. “Why don’t I do this every day?”
“L-life gets in the way?”
“Life needs to re-prioritize,” he declared, and then probably said a few more things. She wasn’t listening. Shecouldn’tlisten. Her body had re-prioritized—all her senses to Jasper’s touch, and his mouth, and the little darts of lightning that coiled inside her with every suck and kiss. She ground herself against him, going on tip-toes to get the right angle, to open herself up to him so his tongue could dive deeper, his fingers could find—
She cried out as the coiled lightning inside her struck, again and again. She lost her balance but Jasper was waiting for that. He caught her, holding her tight in his arms until the last shuddering aftershock of orgasm relented and she slumped into his embrace.
He looked entirely too pleased with himself. She mock-scowled and jabbed him in the chest. “We barely got in the door!”
“I know. I’m terrible. I didn’t even take my boots off.”
“You didn’t—” Her eyes widened in actual outrage and he laughed out loud.
“But you’re right. We should be sensible about this.” He stood up, helping her get to her feet too, and then extravagantly wiped his mouth with a wicked glint in his eye. “We should explore the cottage, first. Make sure we know whether the heating controls are. Check to see if the fridge and pantry are stocked, or whether we need to call for delivery—”
“Absolutely not,” Abigail growled. “I’ve finally got you to myself, we are not callinganyoneelse over to interrupt.”
“Even for dinner?”
“We can starve.”
He smirked, drawing her into his arms. “I don’t think there’s any risk of that.”
“And we don’t need to change the heating. It’s plenty warm in here. In fact, if anything, I think you looktoowarm.” She tugged on his jacket and dragged it open and down his arms. “We’d better fix that.”
“Can’t wear my shoes into the house.”
“You’re the one who left them on!”
When she finally had him more suitable dressed—or rather, undressed—she took her time getting an eyeful.
“Actually, I would like to check out the kitchen,” she said, tipping her head to one side. “Give me a minute?”
He caught up with her before she made it three steps, wrapping strong arms around her and laughing into her hair. “I’d prefer to give you something else. But it will take more than a minute.”
“Promises, promises.”
It took hours. She was sore in the best way, exhausted into bliss, and—though she wouldn’t have thought it possible, after the Christmas feast earlier—she was hungry.
They took their time picking out morsels from the fridge. They took their time in the walk-in shower and the bath big enough for two. They laughed, and talked like they hadn’t in years, about everything and nothing and redoing their own bathroom with their own massive bath, and relaxed into each other’s company as though they had no other cares in the world.
The rest of the world was still out there. Everyone and everything they loved. Ruby, and their friends, and Christmas in Pine Valley. And it would still be there when they left this perfect jewel of a moment of time for themselves.
It was everything she hadn’t known she’d needed. Except she had known, hadn’t she? Her friends had seen right through her. She wanted Jasper to be happy—and she wanted this. A chance to remind them both of who and what they were for each other, as husband and wife, as fated mates, as two people still disgustingly, deliriously passionate about each other.
She sighed and rested her head on Jasper’s chest. They’d found the bedroom, at last. It had taken a while. And several detours. Which was impressive, given the cottage only had about four rooms total, but they’d managed it.
She counted on her fingers—wet room, kitchen, living, bath—okay, with the bedroom that was five, unless you counted the pantry as a separate room…
