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“Do they still make it hard for you to breathe?” I ask, running my hand along his heart and he nods.
“Been thinking about buying a gas mask.”
Rolling my eyes, I tease, “Maybe you should. Considering you’re getting old and all.”
His eyes deepen in played anger and he snarls against my throat, “Tell that to the neighbors. I got complaints the other day that you’re screaming like you’re being gang banged every time the lights go out.”
Gasping I look at him in shock, “Did they really say that?”
Callan nods and I really can’t tell whether he’s making this up or not. It’s not impossible. I am pretty loud and our neighbors are an upfront bunch...
I’m feeling slightly mortified, but despite that there’s a stirring in my body. “Are we done with the dancing? I want to go upstairs.”
“Thank feck,” Callan sighs, “thought you’d never ask.”
Quickly we make our way into the house when there’s a sound of something falling on the second floor, before yelps and shouting erupts and Callan shakes his head.
“Bloody hell,” he curses, “those leprechauns are going at it again.”
Smacking him I say, “You havegotto stop calling our daughters leprechauns.”
“Why? They are mischievous, little imps and this morning they asked me if I’ve ever found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”
My mouth curves to the side, “And what did you answer?”
“Said aye,” he growls, gripping my buttocks possessively, “but it was nothing compared to your mothers sweet arse.”
At that I burst out in laughter and it’s as if I’m sparkling when we walk inside, because I have a feeling that our house is the luckiest one on this street. A pot of gold. At the end of the rainbow.
The End
