Oh, I’m aware. A great seductress I make, huh?
‘With a mouth this size,’ I mutter, ‘you have to ask yourself how.’
‘Your mouth is perfect.’ His smile is one of supreme satisfaction, and suddenly, neither of us are thinking about yogurt right now. It really is no wonder my pink cheeks have drawn his thumb. It brushes the path of my cheek, chucking my chin before dipping down to where the cotton robe has gaped again. ‘In fact, you’re pretty damn perfect everywhere.’
As his hand slides inside, I find myself leaning closer, his fingers teasing the curve of my breast as he takes the weight into his hand.
‘What do you want to do today?’ I ignore the smug tilt of his lips because I’m almost certain he’d like to spend the day the same way as I do right now, because as he asks, he leans closer, too.
‘I had an idea,’ I begin carefully, desperate to keep my sighs to a minimum.
‘I’m all ears.’ And I’m all nerve endings and sensation.
‘I—’ Ohyeah. Just like that. ‘Thought we might take a little time to guarantee the error for consummation m-margin last night was nil.’
‘Thatisan idea.’ His thumb and finger pull my nipple into a tight, aching bud.
‘Just to be sure.’
‘I agree. We should make sure this marriage is consummated very... very. . . thoroughly.’
I close the last few inches of space between us, pressing my mouth to his. He tastes of coffee and mint and like a dozen other things I need. I fight to keep the contact between us, his teasing lips almost as provocative as his half-smile, the faint scrape of his stubble doing funny things to my insides.
‘You’re such a tease,’ I whisper, barely noticing how the robe is now almost open to my navel, one breast full in his hand.
‘So do something about it,’ he coaxes, sliding the cotton towelling from my shoulder. ‘Come here.’
‘Why? Are you going to make good on what you said would happen at this table?’
‘That all depends on how bad you want it.’
‘Bad enough to ask,’ I answer truthfully, my insides igniting with the expectation.
‘Bad enough to know people are beyond this door? How good are you at keeping quiet?’
‘I.. . think I can wait.’ I’m not into the whole being watched thing, I don’t think. I find myself leaning back, severing the connection between us. The idea just leaves me cold.
‘Chicken,’ he whispers, leaning back, his arms now passive on the arms of his chair.
‘If you ever owned chickens, you’d know that isn’t an insult.’ In response, the ass starts making poultry noises. ‘Chickens are smart, inquisitive, and friendly. Not to mention a little bloodthirsty.’
‘What about that margin for error?’ he taunts. ‘When there’s a perfectly good table here for our use.’
‘I’m sure there will be other dining tables,’ I answer, which, by the hardening of his expression, he seems to take as there will be other men.
I suddenly feel like a bitch, but wasn’t he the one who drew up our timeline?
Oh, God. This is going to be a long six months.
Before I can apologise, which I hadn’t planned on anyway, or before he can do his masterful thing and spurn me or whatever, my phone springs to life at the other end of the room with a buzz that tells me it now has a little charge.A little is better than nothing.I slip out of my chair because the moment is awkward. Also, I have a business to run, and I barely looked at my phone yesterday.
‘Olivia, come back to breakfast,’ his darkness demands. ‘You didn’t finish your yogurt.’
‘Hang on. I’ll just get my phone.’ And be the rude colonial scrolling through her feed at the table.
‘I need to talk to you about something first.’
‘Sure.’Okay, Dad. I promise to pay attention to yourwe-need-to-talktalk. I unplug the charger from the socket, accidentally swiping the dark screen.
