Page 86 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
Her breathing was ragged as she moved against him, his name a sigh on her lips as she begged incoherently for more. But he was making her wait, driving her out of her mind.
His hands and mouth roved over every contour of her body, stirring her blood. He was tracing a teasing path over the aching curve of her breasts, his tongue swirling languorously around each taut pink nipple, his lips and teeth teasing them and sparking fire along her taut-strung nerve fibres.
At some point they had both shed the rest of their clothes — she hadn’t even noticed until his hand smoothed down over her bare thighs, then slipped between to seek the most intimate caresses.
Heat was flooding her veins, pooling like molten gold in the pit of her stomach. Then as the pad of his thumb stroked over the tiny seed-pearl hidden deep in the velvet folds, a shaft of pure pleasure shot through her and she gasped convulsively, her fists clenching as she dragged in a breath.
Some part of her mind had registered that he had torn open a small foil packet. She took it from him and eased the gossamer sheath over his hard length. But now everything was swirling heat and darkness as she twined her legs around him, arching her spine and drawing him deep inside her.
He took her mouth with a raw hunger, fierce and possessive, and she slid her hands down his back, responding without constraint, moving beneath him in a dance as old as time.
Tension was coiling inside her like the warning sizzle before a lightning strike. Delirious, she clung to him as they soared together, higher and dizzily higher, in a vortex of flame, until at last it exploded around them, tipping them over the edge, and they tumbled together to collapse on the bed, breathless and sweating, in a tangle of arms and legs.
* * *
Time spun slowly back into its normal course. Vicky lay curled up in the crook of Tom’s arm, her eyes closed — if she could have her wish, she would stay there for ever.
Her fingers were trailing lightly through the smattering of dark hair across his chest.
“Do you always carry condoms in your back pocket?” Dammit, why had she asked that? She didn’t really want to know the answer.
He laughed softly and propped himself up on one elbow. “Not always. I was just kind of hoping you might change your mind about me. And if there was a chance...” He twirled onefinger into a curl of her not-quite-blonde hair. “I’m not sure if that’s hopelessly optimistic or insufferably arrogant.”
“Hmm.” She pursed her lips, pretending to give the matter due consideration. “A tad arrogant, maybe — but not insufferably so.” She hesitated briefly. “Actually the reason I was so off with you that day was because I thought you were married.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Married?”
“To Lisa.”
“Ollie’s Lisa?”
“Yes.” She managed a crooked smile. “I saw you with Noah — at the kid’s party, and... I thought he was your son.”
He looked faintly puzzled. “I was babysitting. Lisa was on a late shift and Ollie had got caught up with something at the surgery, so he rang me to pick him up.”
“Oh. Then at the cricket, I heard Debbie call her Mrs Cullen.”
“And like following your satnav instead of using your head you went off down the wrong track.” There was a lilt of mocking amusement in his voice.
“Well, you did too, didn’t you?” she retorted. “You assumed that I was just the grasping kind who was only interested in selling Molly’s cottage for as much as I could get, then scooting off back to London.”
He laughed, and kissed the tip of her nose. “Okay, we’re quits.”
His hand stroked down over her body again, stirring the still-smouldering embers. A warm sigh escaped her lips, and she curved against him, breathing in the subtle male scent of his skin.
“Will Rufus be all right on his own downstairs?” she murmured.
“He’ll be fine. After his adventure, he’ll sleep right through till morning.”
Which implied that Tom would be staying till morning, too. She had no argument with that.
* * *
The café was busy, as usual. Debbie was flitting about serving customers — there seemed to be a brighter light than usual in her eyes. She danced up to Vicky’s table.
“You’re looking like the cat that got the cream,” Vicky teased.
“Am I? Well, yes, I am. Bill asked me to marry him last night.” She did a little shimmy. “And I said yes!”
