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She puts the pan in the sink and comes to stand next to me, putting her hand on my knee. For some reason, my throat gets really tight and I struggle to swallow my mouthful of omelette.

“It could be nothing.”

I sigh. “That’s what he said. But what if it’s not?”

She squeezes my thigh. “Then there’s lots of things they can do. Even if it is bowel cancer, he could still be fine.”

I put down my fork and gather her into my arms, resting my cheek on her breasts for a moment. She slips her arms around my waist, and we just stay like that for a little while.

Eventually, I let her go. “Don’t let your toast get cold.” It’s a shit excuse for a thank you, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

My throat still feels tight, though, and I don’t trust myself to say much more.

By the time we’re on the couch with her feet tucked in my lap watching Love Actually, I’m feeling better. I don’t even mind that she insisted on picking a sappy rom-com. I’ll never admit it, but some parts are actually funny.

Mia’s right. No point worrying now. The lump might turn out to be nothing. Or it might be something they can easily treat.

So I focus on massaging her feet gently with my knuckles, listening to the little sighs she makes, and watch her face while she thinks I’m not looking.

God, she’s beautiful.

Effortlessly beautiful in a sort of natural wholesome way. Her brown hair falls in soft waves below her ears. Her small nose and angular face is somehow soft instead of harsh. I can still see the pretty eighteen-year-old there beneath the layers of the older woman who is wiser, smarter, but still hesitates to put herself forward, still needs to be told how amazing she is.

When Mia yawns and switches off the TV, I scoop her up, ignoring her shriek of protest. Then I carry her up to bed and tuck myself behind her to spend another night with her in my arms.

SIXTEEN

Mia

Luke slips into my shower the next morning as easily as he has fitted into that hole I didn’t even realise I had in my heart. Like he’s the missing piece of a puzzle I thought I’d already solved.

His rough hands rub from my waist down over my hips and then he tucks us together until I can feel his hard erection pulsing against my back.

“Morning.”

“Mmm, morning.” My nipples tighten into little buds, and a shiver of sensation buzzes down my spine as he kisses my shoulder. Warm water pounds against my front. With Luke’s firm strong presence behind me, it’s almost too much. At the same time, it’s not enough. My pussy throbs with the need to be touched.

He doesn’t leave me waiting long. He walks me forward until I can place both palms on the cool tiles. With his leg, he nudges mine apart so I’m leaning forward with my ass and pussy presented for him. Then his hand glides over my back and arse possessively.

I arch my back, chasing his touch.

“Haven’t made you cum yet today.” His voice is husky and low. I can only just hear him over the shower.

I grin. “Is that your new daily mission?”

“Too right.” One large hand slides over my pussy, cupping me. “This pussy is going to be mine. And I’m going to teach her exactly how I like her to behave.”

The words should sound ridiculous, but I’m not laughing. No. I’m groaning, stretching to spread wider for him and give him access, wishing he would rub my clit already.

All he does is increase the pressure a little. My body reacts. Heat pools at my entrance and awareness of him tingles all through me.

When he finally slides his fingers into my folds to find the hard nub of my clit, I moan again. “Oh, please!”

He growls against the back of my neck, hardness pressed to the places I’m soft. Wet droplets of water and spray from the shower cool my heated skin.

Luke flicks his fingers backward and forward across my clit, applying just the right pressure. It’s like he knows exactly how I want to be touched, how much to give, and when to ease off. I sink into it, pleasure blooming in my lower belly. Then he stops.

I cry out. My head drops between my arms.

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