Page 53 of Storm in a D Cup

‘Babe, I know your curves better than anything,’ he drawled. He was such a ham lately. Was it the Genie Stacie effect?No, no, no – don’t think about her. Think about the sweltering hot sex awaiting us.

‘There’s always something new to discover,’ I whispered, moving in closer to lick the side of his neck.

He shivered and murmured, ‘I swear I’m going to crash if you keep this up…’

I giggled – as throatily as I could, mind you – as my hand touched his thigh. I didn’t need to go there or turn on the overhead light to see he was… intrigued.

What guy could resist any kind of foreplay?

When we finally arrived, he came to a stop, his breath ragged, his eyes glistening and hooded. At the end of the drive we were rewarded with an amazing hilltop view and a tiny, lodge-like romantic hotel and restaurant.

First, a romantic dinner, to which Julian responded with a flush of pleasure. He knew where this was going and was already, shall we say,visiblyin the mood and eating quickly, but I slowed him down. Tonight it wouldn’t be about making a baby. It would be about making love. Our love.

I’ll spare you the smoldering looks we cast each other during our meal. Suffice to say that when we got to our room I quickly slipped into the chocolate knickers and oy – you should have seen the look on his face when I stepped out of the bathroom dressed only in my edible underwear. A look I hadn’t seen, let’s face it, in a long, long time.

‘Is this wonderful sight for me?’ he murmured.

‘Dessert’s ready,’ I teased him and as he pushed me back onto the bed, nibbling on my earlobe and kissing me and… I swear to you in two seconds flat I was a goner. And then… he began to consume his dessert.

I lay back, taking in the magic moment, the way it used to be. Yes, this was Julian, and this was me. And together, we made a wonderfulWe. Forget about everything else. He loved me. We were a family. And we were on our way back to being like we used to be. Full steam ahead.

As I was enjoying his attention, Julian coughed. Then again, making a wheezing sound. I lifted myself up onto my elbows. ‘You OK?’

He shook his head, gasping and clutching at his throat. He was turning red and desperately trying to breathe, but nothing was happening. Was he choking on the chocolate? I shot to my feet, beating his back right between the shoulder blades, but it wasn’t getting any better. His face was turning purple now as he staggered to his feet, me trying to help him.

Wearing absolutely jack squat, save what was left of my edible underwear, I reached for the phone and dialed for an ambulance, threw a tiny towel around myself and flung the door open, shouting for help down the stairs into the darkness of the night.

*

When he opened his eyes, Julian found himself all tubed up and an IV needle stuck into his arm. His hair all sweaty and matted and his face extremely pale now, he was a real mess (said by the woman now wearing a hospital nightie and with traces of chocolate where chocolate can be fun but only for so long).

He looked at me over his mask and I took his free hand, trying not to sag with relief that the ambulance crew had arrived in time.

‘You’re OK,’ I said quickly. ‘Nothing to worry about.’ Ha. Talk about underwear understatements.

He closed his eyes and blinked once. That must have meantyes.

‘Mm-hm-hm?’ he asked, meaning,What happened?

I blushed. ‘It was an allergic reaction.’

His eyebrows shot up in question.To what?

Now this was going to be embarrassing. ‘Uhm, remember my chocolate underwear?’

He blinked once. He remembered. Not that anyone could forget that. ‘I’m so sorry – Ithoughtit was chocolate. But it was actuallyGianduiahazelnut fudge…’

Made with the best hazelnuts in the whole of the region. And Julian (how could I forget?) was highly allergic to hazelnuts. He’d had an allergic reaction once when he was a kid that had almost cost him his life.

His head fell back with a mutter muffled by the mask and he closed his eyes in the notion that he had once again narrowly escaped death from a hazelnut. And I was the uber-nut who gave it to him.

‘We’ll look back on this one day and laugh?’ I said helpfully to Julian.

He blinked twice forno, coughed and exhaled so heavily through his mask he sounded like Darth Vader. Leave it to me to see the funny-ish side of things.

Luckily the hotel had been near the Guardia Medica. Memories of the night before zapped through my mind, leaving me cold with horror.

‘Is he allergic to cortisone?’ the doctor had asked me dutifully, his needle poised, ready to inject into Julian’s vein something that would either save him or give him thecoup de grace.

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