“Italian recipe.Sauce with meat and vegetables, over fettuccine.I buy everything atLittle Italy, an Italian shop in town.I know it’s not a very original name, but it gives you the idea, doesn’t it?And they make the fettuccine by hand, you know?It’s not that dried or pre-cooked stuff you get atTesco; it’s egg fettuccine.”
“I’m not really sure what you’re talking about, but I’ll take your word for it.”
“As long as you like it, it doesn’t matter where it came from.”
“I like that you take the time to explain everything to me, set the table like it’s a dinner party, put on music, and cook for me.”
“I went too far, didn’t I?”
“I just told you I like it, didn’t I?”
“I don’t know how to make dessert, though, I should warn you.I bought two slices of cappuccino cake this morning at the supermarket.”
“Thank goodness.You’re too perfect, Doctor, and I don’t know if I can keep up.”
“Don’t talk shit.You’re Jamie Murray.”
I shrug.
“They must have invented the word ‘perfection’ for you.”
Ah, Doctor, I’d like to think so, but it’s kind of you to say.
“More wine?”he asks as he stands, reaching for the bottle on the kitchen counter.
“No, thank you.I’d like to remain lucid.”
“Don’t tell me a couple of glasses of wine will knock you out.”
“No, but I’m thinking about all the things I’d like to do, and I want to savour them all, every second, because I think it’s really worth it.”
The Doctor stands in the kitchen doorway, a confused expression on his face.
I get up and approach him.
“Yes, Doctor, I am talking about the things I want to do to you.”My hand slides to the back of his neck.“Possibly right now.”
“You don’t like wasting time.”
I lean in, my lips tracing slowly along his neck.I move closer to his ear as the Doctor tilts his head.“I’m not wasting my time if I’m with you.”
My hand slides down his jawline, and as he turns towards me, I capture his lips with mine.He presses his hands to my chest, fingers splayed across the fabric, as I push him back against the doorframe.I want to deepen the kiss, to feel the heat of him against me and know if the trembling in his body means he wants this as much as I do.
The Doctor presses his palms to my chest, but not to push me away.We’re still kissing, hungry and desperate, as he guides me backwards.
“Bedroom.Now,” he orders, his voice rough.
I laugh against his lips.“You don’t have much patience either.”
“Zero patience when it comes to you.”
“I didn’t take you for a forward player.”
“You have no idea what kind of player I am.”
Chapter34
Martin
