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Her expression tells me that’s never happened. In fact, the shocked look on her face tells me it’s never even entered her head.
“Fuck me,” I mumble. “I’m definitely going to do that at some point.” I push the dish with the last spoonful of pudding across to her.
She finishes off the mouthful, her eyes dancing, licks her lips, and gives a little laugh. It’s such a beautiful sound that I resolve to make her laugh like that every day from now on.
And suddenly, I can’t wait any longer. I want to crush my lips to hers, I want her body under mine. I want to make her come so hard it feels like a firework exploding, wiping away any thought of the poor excuse for men who’ve passed through her life like wet firecrackers.
“Finish your wine,” I tell her softly. “It’s time to go.”
Chapter Eleven
Poppy
Marc refuses to let me pay for dinner, then leads me across the road to the shop. Fiona has left us a variety of food and drinks, but I prefer trim milk in my tea, and Marc declares he wants some chocolate, so we wander around the shop putting odds and ends into the basket—a bag of chips, a couple of bars of dark chocolate, a few bottles of wine.
He then stops at the refrigerator, opens the door, and extracts a can of aerosol cream. He meets my gaze as he puts it in the basket, smirks, and takes the basket from me before heading for the till.
Holy moly. My head is spinning. I thought he was joking.
“Don’t look so alarmed,” he says as we walk back to the car.
“I’m not alarmed.” I’m terrified. This is so far out of my comfort zone, it’s almost in the northern hemisphere. Where is he going to want to spray the whipped cream?
We get back in the car, and I buckle myself in. My heart is pounding, and I’ve broken out in a sweat, even though it’s grown cool since we came out.
Marc sighs as he heads the car onto the road toward the lane to the lighthouse. Then he reaches out and takes my hand. “Are you okay? Are you hyperventilating?”
“I’m sorry. It was the spray cream. It tipped me over the edge.”
He gives a short laugh and lifts my hand, bringing my fingers to his lips. He kisses them lightly before lowering them back down. “I’m the one who should apologize. I promised myself I’d take it slow. Look, remember, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. And we go at your pace. Okay? This is all about you. If you change your mind at any point, you only have to say. You’re not going to upset me, and I won’t be angry. We’re doing this because you want a baby, and ultimately that’s got to be the primary goal.”
I look out of the window, into the dark night. Truth is, I’d almost forgotten I was doing this to try to get pregnant.
I glance across at him. He’s concentrating on the road, a slight frown on his brow. He’s incredibly handsome, in an insouciant, devil-may-care kind of way. I think part of me is shocked a guy like this would be interested in me. Daniel was forty, with a receding hairline, and although he was relatively good looking, he spent a lot of time at the gym, carefully maintaining his physique.
I don’t think Marc goes to the gym, but his job means that half his day is spent outdoors doing physical work. His shirt clings to his biceps and his forearms where he’s rolled up the sleeves, and his arms are tanned and honed. I know he has a tight butt because I’ve stared at it often enough. He was in the Army, and he said he was into sports. At school, guys like this wouldn’t have looked at me twice. I was small and skinny with Pippi Longstocking hair, and so bad socially I could barely hold a conversation. The thought that one of the rugby guys would not only glance my way, but agree to get me pregnant…
And that’s the first time it really sinks in. I didn’t really comprehend it before.
Marc’s going to have sex with me, and he’s going to try to get me pregnant.
Laughter rises inside me, like bubbles in a glass of champagne, and bursts forth from me before I get a chance to stop it. He glances across at me, amused. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” The laughter won’t stop, though, and by the time he pulls up at the lighthouse, I’m giggling like a schoolgirl.
