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He drives home, and I don’t hold back as I moan through my release, gripping the sheets.
He does the same, grunting as his hips shudder, letting go. Dean folds his body over mine, planting kisses on my chest and my neck as we breathe our way down to settle.
I turn my head, holding him close. I don’t say anything. Neither does he.
Once we’ve recovered, he pushes up on one hand to look at me. His eyes are relaxed and sleepy. Content. “Get dressed.” Another kiss lands on my lips before he pulls out of me, holding his hands for me to take.
I do, and he pulls me to sit up. “Dressed? Where are we going?”
Dean smiles. “Somewhere. Just trust me.”
Half an hour later, we’re pulling up in my perfectly sized Fiesta on the outskirts of a beautiful little village. Cobbled streets lead my eyes towards a trickling stream with an old stone bridge curved over it. A white iron gate stands at the end of someone’s garden; their small cottage backing out onto fields of green and rolling hills.
Engulfing. That’s how I’m finding the feeling of joy that this unknown place is bringing me. I smile seeing tall green trees dancing in the sunlight. An old pub on the corner with people stepping inside. Children playing in the small park opposite. A dog running down the road without fear of being hit by cars.
I don’t know what it is, but this place brings me immediate peace. “It’s beautiful.”
Dean smiles, getting out the car. He walks around to my side, opening the door and holding out his hand. He pulls me to my feet. “I’m glad you like it.”
I frown with a smile. “Why?”
He laughs, tugging my hand. “Come on. Let me show you.”
We walk past the pub, past the village shop and the park. Only the sound of children laughing and the water trickling can be heard. I squeeze Dean’s hand in mine, and he looks at me.
He smiles, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. He’s happy here.
Tapping feet hitting the cobbles come up behind me. I turn around, looking down, seeing the black and white Border Collie go trotting by, stopping to look back at the two of us before heruns off. My heart swells. I don’t recall a time I’ve ever felt this happy. Me. Him. Our family. I’ve envisioned it. “This place.” Other words escape me.
“I know,” Dean says. He looks content as he nods his head, leading me to a large cottage further down the road. The antique grey painted on the outside looks neat and clean. Tumbling flowers hang either side of the door. It screams cozy and warm. Safe.
“What is this place?”
“You like it?” His expression looks hopeful. His eyes sweep over my face.
“Dean, I love it. But, why are we here?”
The brown wooden door opens, and a man steps out. “Mr and Mrs Carter?”
I look to Dean, rolling my eyes.
He smiles rather than scowls.
“If you’d like to come inside.”
Dean holds out one arm, the other he places at the small of my back, and I keep my eyes on his as I follow the man in.
The cottage is all open plan. Bright light pours in through bifold doors on the back, leading to the garden full of flowers, plants and fresh cut grass. A large wooden table sits in the middle of the dining area, low hanging bulbs drop in the centre. The walls are painted white. Everything white and wood. It’s homely.
“You like it?” Dean whispers, his lips pushing to the back of my head.
I turn, bewildered. “It’s gorgeous. But?” I smile shaking my head. “Is this what I think?”
My heart runs wild when I see his green pool’s brighten. “You want it? It’s yours.”
“Dean,” I choke, my breath getting clogged in my throat. I gawk at him, completely overcome.
“Would you like to see the three bedrooms upstairs?”presumably the estate agent asks.
