Chapter Two
BEA
So much for a quiet Sunday shift. I’ve had the day from hell, though I shouldn’t say that because I’ve much to be thankful for. Like being able to walk out of the hospital this evening, even if it is four hours after my shift was due to end. At least I’m not watching my children strapped to beds by leads, monitors and IVs. At least I’m not wondering if tonight my loved ones will pass, leaving me alone in this world.
Today has made me maudlin and I’m over it. I need distracting and know just the man to provide it.
The lights are on as I pull the car to a stop outside, the glow warm and welcoming after this fright of a day.
Warm and welcoming and Kit.
I’m home and so glad of it.
I push open the front door and drop my massive bag on the floor, shucking out of my coat. Everything takes effort and my back aches with movements. Posture is so important to a surgeon, but that doesn’t mean good carriage prevents all aches.Nothing could prevent the pain after a day like today.
The lights are on in the hallway, in the lounge, and down into the kitchen—even at the top of the stairs. This is Kit’s MO, leaving a trail of lights wherever he’s been. It’s like living with a teenager; so much so I can sometimes hear my mum’s words leaving my mouth in some reprimanding echo of my teenage years. Obviously, I try to stop myself because nothing cools the blood like sounding like your mother around your lover.
So lights, but no Kit, when all I need is a hug. I’d sent him a text as I’d left the hospital but it’s selfish of me to think he’d be waiting in the hallway with open arms. Maybe holding a glass of wine. And some dark chocolate.
I’m toeing off my shoes when he appears on the staircase
‘Honey, you’re home.’
‘I think that’s my line,’ I reply, smiling up at him. In two steps, he’s in front of me and I’m enfolded in that much-needed embrace. ‘I’m sorry I’m so late. I—’
He halts my protest with his lips. Thoroughly. One hand on the back of my head, he controls this kiss, and ergo, me. Lord knows right now I could do with the distraction, and the longer we kiss, the less clothes I need him in.
‘Take me upstairs,’ I whisper against his neck, struggling to get my hands between our bodies, to loosen his shirt or his pants—either. Both. All the clothing things.
‘What’s your hurry, darlin’?’ I can feel the smile in his kiss as he resists my attempts to undress him. ‘There’s beef in the oven.’
His non-sequitur has me pulling my mouth from his. ‘What?’ Kit can barely boil an egg, much like myself. We survive mostly on takeout and the mercy of friends.
‘I got the recipe from Fin.’ Fin, my best friend and his twin brother’s fiancé. ‘I wanted to surprise you.’
‘You have.’ I hide my smile at the sweetness of the gesture and the hopeful look on his face. He said he’d be making plans . . .
‘I sense a but.’ His words rumble against my chest.
‘No, not at all.’ I swipe my tongue across his neck, the salt and bristles of his skin hitching the need in my veins.
‘Darlin’, I can read you like a dirty wee book.’
I place my teeth between the juncture of his shoulder and neck, biting the cording of strong muscle there. I’d meant it as a mild reprimand to his assertion, but the sound he makes as my teeth meets muscle leaves all thoughts and intentions behind.
‘Tell the truth and shame the devil,’ he rasps, suddenly pushing me up against the wall, pulling my hand between us. ‘The only meat you’re interested in is this.’ My fingers curl instinctively around the hardness of his fabric covered cock. He’s not the only one groaning right now.
‘God, yes.’ I want it—want him. Hard and fast and mindlessly.
‘Here I am, playing the dutiful boyfriend, cooking you a nice meal. Planning to draw you a lovely hot bubble bath after your hard day, and all you’re interested in is my body.’ His humorous taunts are delivered between biting kisses and swipes of tongue. It’s all I can do to play along.
‘But what a body it is,’ I purr. ‘Is it any wonder I can’t help it? I’m so hot for you all the time. And your domestic side just makes me all growly.’
‘And what time of day do you call this to be coming home,’ he rasps, hitching my leg over his hip.
‘I’ve had a hard day,’ I pant into his mouth.
