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‘Ah, irritated to death,’ he repeats, his tone...irritating.‘That’s what I was feeling pulsing around my cock last night. During the night. And a few hours ago. And when I rolled you over as dawn broke, you said you wereirritatedfor me.I must’ve misheard.’
‘Oh... go away,’ I huff, pulling the sheet over my head. ‘Don’t you have vaginas you need to attend to?’
‘I’m pretty knackered after attending to yours last night. All night. Woman, you wore me out.’
Under the sheet, I smile to myself. If I’d have thought about the potential for morning-after awkwardness last night, I might not have been brave enough to be here at all. But other than sore body parts, morning breath, and the pointer sticking me in the vicinity of my ass, this isn’t too bad. While under the sheet, it also dawns on me that, if I’d known it could be like this, I might’ve tried out this temporary relationship business before. Though probably not.
I consider Will again and his attempts at keeping the atmosphere easy-breezy and light. He’s not all bad. Not that I’ll tell him. His ego is big enough already.
‘Insatiable Sadie,’ I mutter. ‘That’s me.’
‘No, you’re delectable Sadie. Sadie with the sweet smile and the sweet p—oof!’ I catch him with my elbow in the ribs. ‘I was going to say Sadie with the sweet patootie.’
‘Sure, you were. Go to work, or something.’
‘Only if you promise to be naked in my bed when you get back home.’ I sense him sit up and swing his legs out of the bed. Naturally, I push the sheet off my head to spy.
‘Stop looking at my arse,’ he calls over his shoulder.
‘Why? It’s the best part of you,’ I call back.
‘Funny,’ he says, sticking his head around the door to the bathroom. ‘Last night, you said my best part was myirritatingcock.’
‘No, I said you were an irritating cock!’
The bathroom door closes as his pillow hits it, and my phonebingswith a text. It’s followed by two more in rapid succession.
Sadie, this is Ella. I wondered if you’d be free for a catch-up tonight? I’m child free this evening after suffering a bout of Stockholm syndrome.
That’s at the mercy of my children, not Mac.
P.S. Will gave me your number the other day.
‘Do you fancy dinner this evening? Or can I interest you in a cuddle session and a takeaway?’ Will emerges from the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. He’s wrapped a small white towel around his waist.
I don’t answer but take a moment to just look at him—to just appreciate the beauty of him. Those broad shoulders and strong arms. The firmness of his chest, and the ladder of his abs. The sharpVof his hipbones and the smattering of fine hair that leads to other fine things.
‘Do you like what you see?’
His cheesy tone brings a burst of laughter from my chest.
‘You caught me. I was totally checking you out.’ Who wouldn’t?
‘It’s only fair, I suppose.’
‘You look like you’re about to make a confession.’ I’d said it as a joke, but by the gleam in his eye, he’s enjoying being called out.
‘You were naked when I got back into bed after Sir Lancelot was delivered. And asleep. Dead to the world.’ His gaze takes on that far-off look as he returns to the moment in his head. ‘You were on your front with your hands cradled under your chest. The sheet draped low across your back. I might’ve watched you for a while, remembering you in that dress. Watching you walk away from me. Seeing the sway of your hips and the swell of your arse.’
‘You were thinking about me.’ My words are so soft, I’m not sure I’d meant them to be heard.
He looks up, drawn from the memory like a hypnotist’s snap of the fingers. ‘Of course. I’m always thinking about you. About getting my paws on you. About being inside you.’ He shrugs at the admission. ‘There you were, dead asleep, and me with a stiff cock in my hand. So I woke you up for my own nefarious means by rolling you over and loving you with my mouth again.’
I don’t know what to say about any of that.Six weeks, my mind intones. A little under six weeks to let him love me—with his body, at least. Six weeks in which to also get my fill, while still remaining whole. Unscathed. My heart untouched.
Will I manage it?
‘So a night curled on the couch. How does that sound?’
