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CHAPTER TEN
Naughty
“It’s six o’clock, time to get up.” The robotic voice sounds cold, unfriendly. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to block out the annoying noise, but it seems to be getting louder. Mingled with the command is the sound of heavy rain hitting the window, an unpleasant combination that serves only to push me further under the duvet.
“It’s six o’clock, time to get up,” the tinny voice repeats.
Nick emits a groan, and I nuzzle my face deeper into his chest. His arms feel so strong and warm around me, so comforting; I never want him to let me go. Our naked bodies fit together so well, like two pieces of hot clay melded together. I could spend forever like this, but as the screeching voice from the alarm continues to bash us, he gently eases out of my embrace.
“You heard the lady. Time to get up, gorgeous.” He reaches for the dresser and turns off the clock.
“Do we have to?” I murmur. “I was having such a great dream.”
“That’s funny. So was I.”
“Really? Was I in it?”
“Of course.”
“Was it a naughty dream?”
“Yes. A very, very naughty one.”
“Mmm. Tell me all the details.”
“I’d much rather give you a demonstration, but if we go down that road, neither of us will be going to work today.” He kisses my forehead then throws back the covers and races to the bathroom to take a pee. With a satisfied smile, I bury my face in his pillow and breathe in his sweet scent. The bed feels so empty without him, and I’m already craving his heat again. Suddenly, images from last night flash through my mind and I get a rush of butterflies. What a night. What a crazy, crazy night. What mad, passionate sex we had.
Heat colours my cheeks and I chuckle to myself as more images flash up: Nick suspending me in mid-air. Me coming three times, the third one so intense it caused me to black out. My blush deepens and I shake my head incredulously. Right now, at this very moment, life is the best it has ever been.
For a few heartbeats, I lie on my back, listening to the sound of hard rain pelting the window. Harsh winds. A tree branch banging against the glass. Doors opening and closing outside on the landing. Creaking floorboards. Taps turning. The rush of water as Nick steps in the shower. God, I really don’t want to go to work today. I want to stay here, warm and cosy with the man I love, sheltered forever from the pressures of the world.
Pulling up the duvet, I snuggle back down and try to get a bit more shut-eye, but the odds are against me. Within seconds, Nick’s standing over me with an angelic smile on his lips; his eyes glisten with adoration. Reaching out, he softly runs his fingers down my cheek. “Last night was mind-blowing,” he whispers. “I’ve never known anything like it. What you did to me, the way you loved me so completely … it was the most wonderful experience of my life. You’ve brought me back from the brink, Carly. Made me feel I have the right to walk in the land of the living once more.”
I blink up at him and smile, showing all my teeth. There’s a lot I want to say, but the words won’t come, so I just keep smiling, hoping all I’m thinking can be communicated with a look.
“Darling, I’ve run you a bath,” he continues. “And I’m fixing us breakfast. So, whenever you’re ready …” He glances pointedly at a chair stacked with fresh towels and a black-silk dressing gown. “I don’t want you to be late for work.”
I laugh good-humoredly. “Okay, I’m going, I’m going.”
Gently, Nick helps me into the dressing gown and after securing the belt, ushers me to the bathroom where he leaves me to finish getting ready.
When he’s gone, I climb into the tub and allow the water to completely submerge me, every muscle and nerve growing calm. This is just what I need to wake me up. When I’ve finished bathing, I towel myself down, brush my teeth and return to the bedroom, where I find all my work clothes laid out on the bed. Cutting short my morning make-up ritual, I dress in a hurry, apply only a bit of lippy and mascara, then make my way downstairs.
As I enter the kitchen, my nostrils are greeted by the glorious scent of bacon and freshly-ground coffee.
“I hope you’re feeling hungry,” Nick smiles. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I made you a bit of everything.” He takes a pan off the cooker and shakes the steaming contents onto a plate. “Did you have a nice bath?”
“Yes, it was lovely. Wow, that food smells delicious. You really are spoiling me; I don’t feel worthy.”
He laughs softly as he takes a second plate from the drying rack and lays it on the sideboard. Smoothing down my bright-pink cardigan, I covertly survey the room. It’s wonderfully old-fashioned and sort of reminds me of a rustic farmhouse. In the centre sits an island made of solid oak, above which hangs an array of pots and pans suspended from a metal ceiling rack. A traditional red kettle stands on the stove, whistling merrily as the water is boiled. I glance behind me; no sign of a dishwasher or microwave anywhere. Clearly, Nick likes to keep things Old School and conjures up everything from scratch.
My mouth starts to water. It looks as if he’s cooked us up a real feast: French toast with bacon, scrambled eggs, fruit salad and coffee.
“That looks so good,” I murmur.
Smiling sweetly, Nick dishes out the food, and then we sit beside each other at the island, perched on chrome-plated stools. We don’t talk a whole lot, just focus on clearing our plates. I eat and eat, this time not caring if he thinks I’m a glutton. This food is too good to tackle delicately; it needs to be devoured and appreciated the way it deserves to be.
“What?” I ask, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
