Page 140 of Carry Me Home

I don’t answer. Instead I edge her knickers down, pressing my mouth against the gentle curve of her mound, sliding my tongue into places I never dreamed it would go.

‘Ah shit,’ she whimpers. She’s a verbal kind of woman. And I love it.

A lick, a press, a suck of her most sensitive place and I slip my fingers inside her, making her arch away from the door completely. I catch her behind with my free hand, holding her still as I feast on the only meal I want.

She’s arching, whimpering, until she pushes me away. ‘No, Tom, wait.’

I duck my head out from under her dress, and look up at her as she blinks down at me. ‘Anything wrong?’

‘No. I just want you on the bed and inside me.’ Her gaze holds mine, wild curls a halo above her head, face flushed. ‘If I don’t feel you inside me, right now, I think I might implode.’

‘That sounds terribly messy.’ I straighten up, pull her into my arms. ‘Better not risk it.’

Settling her on the bed, I shed my tie, shirt, belt. She sits up to help with the button on my jeans and together we push them down. Nina’s gaze zeroes straight in on my dick as soon as it’s free.

‘Oh.’ It’s almost a whimper.

‘Oh?’

Her gaze meets mine and she bites down on her bottom lip.

‘Oh.’ Her teeth release and a wicked smile flashes across her face. ‘Oh, indeed. Mr Darcy. I think you’d better come here.’

So I do, pounding forward, capturing her mouth with mine until we are nothing but teeth, and skin, and the very air itself.

The morning comes too fast.

I wake to sunlight through thin curtains and Nina pressed against my side, her head on my shoulder, one leg thrown over mine. She’s still asleep. Her face is soft, and beautifully unguarded. Just Nina, breathing slowly, her fingers curled against my ribs.

I don’t move. I lie here and let it be real.

The harbour sounds come through the window – gulls, waves, the clank of halyards, a fisherman’s voice carrying across the water. The coffee machine downstairs clicking on its timer, warming up for the day. The smell of salt air and lavender and the warmth of Nina’s skin, which I will now spend the rest of my life associating with Sunday mornings.

‘Stop watching me.’ Her voice is thick with sleep. Her eyes don’t open. ‘I can feel it.’

‘I’m not watching.’

‘You’re absolutely watching.’

‘I’m lying here minding my own business. You happen to be in my line of sight.’

She opens one eye. ‘It’s too early.’

‘It’s nine o’clock.’

‘Exactly. Too early.’ She burrows closer, hiding her face against my chest. ‘Five more minutes.’

‘I have to go. Mum will send a search party.’

‘Five more minutes.’ Her arm tightens around me. ‘Then you can face Ivy.’

I give her ten. Fifteen. Twenty. The minutes stretch, warm and slow, and I hold on to each one the way you hold a breath you don’t want to release.

Finally, she sighs and rolls away and back onto her pillow. ‘Okay. Go. Before I physically prevent you.’

‘Is that an option?’

‘Don’t tempt me. Again.’ She sits up, pushes the hair off her face and I relish the view of all of her. Her warm skin, the curve of her breasts, the pebbling of her nipples against the morning air. ‘Tom?’