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“Sorting out cut fingers goes hand in hand with cooking.” Rosie continued to keep it light while she chewed over the dawning horror that somehow feelings she had had for him, which had never gone away, were clawing their way back to the surface, ignoring all common sense and wreaking havoc with her pride, which insisted that she play the game the way he was playing it.
“There are all sorts of rules and regulations concerning cuts in the kitchen!” she chirruped, while feasting her eyes on the magnificent sight of his body. How could she still care about someone who didn’t want her? How could those feelings stubbornly persist in the face of his emotional detachment? How could she long for a man who closed up every time the conversation became too personal? Who walked away, back to his own house at the end of every evening, when once they would spend nights together, making love whenever they woke up. A man who would one day tire of her, who would consider his appetite satisfied and who would stroll off into the horizon without a backward glance to find another woman, possibly a woman he would truly care about.
“Would you believe me if I told you that I wasn’t all that interested in the rules and regulations of what happens in a kitchen?” He settled on the bed, straddled her glorious, supine body, offered himself to her and arched back as she took him in her mouth. He had his hand behind her head, fingers clasped in her hair. When she did this, his mind always went blank. Only she knew how to do this, to take him out of his body and transport him to another place, another time, another whole dimension.
He removed himself before he could topple over the edge and eased himself along the length of her body. When she had lived in London, she had never exercised. Now, however, she had started jogging round the lanes. He was always in danger of being dragged along for the ride, despite his frequent protests that there were other far more pleasurable forms of exercise. He now knew more about the landscape of where he owned his house than he ever had. Thanks to her jogging, her body, always slender, had become highly toned and he could feel the firmness of her stomach as he tasted the salty tanginess of her perspiration. He spread apart her legs and buried himself in the apex between them, licking and teasing until she was groaning underneath him.
He had laid down all the ground rules for this strange thing they had going on between them, and she was assiduous in obeying them. Which was exactly what he wanted, naturally, but he had to admit to himself that it gave him a kick of immense satisfaction when he could feel her lose control as he explored her body. Just as she was doing now as he sucked the honeyed moistness between her legs.
When he looked up, he could see her small breasts pointing upwards, nipples pinched, and it was a massive turn-on as she looked down at him and then deliberately took one nipple between her fingers so that she could tease it, rubbing it and pinching it until he had no option but to rise up so that he could brush aside her hand and put his mouth where it had been.
He could feel her ribcage under his palm and the beating of her heart. He suckled fiercely on one nipple, loving the sense of timeless peace it gave him. He could stay there for ever, tasting her, quietly going crazy with the anticipation of entering her and feeling her tightness wrap around him.
When neither of them could stand it any longer, he straightened, and for one fleeting moment, caught up in the momentum of the moment and gripped by a passion that made his whole body feel as though it was burning up, Angelo was tempted to forgo the contraception. She had suggested going on the pill. He had shrugged and told her that she could if she wanted, but there was no way he would be taking any chances so he would carry on using protection. He trusted no one but himself.
He knew that she was leaving the whole business of contraception to him and it rocked him even to allow the thought of taking a chance to find space in his head. And yet it had.
“Two seconds,” he breathed roughly, reaching across her to the bedside drawer where he now left a packet of condoms.
Rosie wriggled up, licked his rigid shaft and felt him shudder and still as he did his utmost to control the need to spill his seed over her.
Then, with a little sigh and closing her eyes, she lay back down as he thrust into her, fully protected, taking no chances.
Their bodies moved to the same soaring rhythm. She could feel every inch of him in her, moving and pushing and bringing her closer and closer to orgasm. There were times when he was down there, between her legs, teasing her with his mouth, when she couldn’t hold on and, wonderful though it was to come against his mouth, having him in her was pure ecstasy. Her nails dug into his back. Hands on either side of her, he pushed himself up so that he could increase the friction between them. She wrapped her legs around his waist and lost herself in the moment, soaring higher and higher until she cried out and gave in to the long, shuddering climax and the ripples and waves in its aftermath.
“Very nice.” Angelo sighed with unhidden satisfaction as they both subsided, fully replete. He pulled her to him so that her head was resting on his chest, just how he liked it; this way he could stroke her hair and he enjoyed the fine, silky texture sifting through his fingers.
“Is that all you can say? Nice is such an ordinary word.”
“Very earth-shattering, if you prefer.”
“I shall have to get up in a minute. I have those vegetables to see about. I don’t suppose you’re interested in hearing how I intend to cook them?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Well, I’m going to steam them in the usual way, but then I’m going to refine the dish with some coconut milk, curry powder and cheese. Hopefully they’ll be spot-on by the time I perfect them and I won’t have to endure John Law in the kitchen pretending to be a chef when all he wants to do is...well...you know... Pretty disgusting, when his wife is outside chivvying the hired help into dressing the table just the way she likes it.”
Rosie reluctantly sidled off the bed and, with her back to Angelo, she missed his sudden stillness.
“No. I don’t know. Tell me.”
Rosie glanced over her shoulder to find his eyes on her and she gave a little shrug of her shoulders.
“You met me when I was a waitress in a cocktail bar. You know the kind of thing I’m talking about.”
Angelo could feel white-hot fury building in him like a volcano but he kept his voice calm and neutral.
“Who is this John Law character?” He could have destroyed her stalker at a whim. He had chosen not to because the threat of ruin was sometimes even more powerful than actual ruin itself. John Law? A married man? Making a play behind his woman? Threat of destruction almost seemed too good for any man like that.
“Oh, just someone who hired me a couple of weeks ago to cater a dinner party.” Rosie had wandered off into the bathroom. Angelo heard the sound of the shower but for once he had no desire to join her under it.
“And he and his wife have asked me to cater for another dinner party in a few days’ time!” she called, stepping under the shower when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to join her.
“How do you get back from these things?” Angelo had made his way into the bathroom, and through the frosted glass he could make out her long, slender shape as she vigorously soaped herself and shampooed her hair. He slung a towel round his hips, closed the lid of the toilet, sat there.
“What?” Rosie poked her head around the shower door and looked at him.
“Simple question, Rosie. How do you travel back from these dos that you cater for at night? You don’t have a car.”
“I know. It’s a nuisance but I just can’t afford to buy one at the moment.” She switched off the shower and stepped out, riffling her fingers through her wet hair and then drying herself as he continued to watch her with brooding, lazy intensity. “I’m doing pretty well at the moment. In fact, better than I thought I would be. There are lots of rich people in this part of the world, and not nearly as many people around to cater to their needs as there are in London. But I’ve still had to put out quite a bit of money for kitchen equipment. Also, the decorating took a chunk out of my savings.”
“You’re not answering my question.”
“What’s wrong?” She paused, frowned at him and then stalked out of the bathroom, back into the bedroom to change into some fresh clothes. She was beginning to feel nervous but that was something she didn’t intend to share with him. Had she done something wrong? She hated questioning herself, saw no reason for it, yet she was. They had made love, and it had been brilliant, but he hadn’t jumped into the shower with her the way he usually did; hadn’t reminded her of his insatiable appetite while they were dripping wet under the water. And the way he was staring at her now...
She slipped on her jogging bottoms, rolled them twice at the waistband so that they rode down low on her slim hips, doing this with her back to him just in case she saw something in his face she didn’t want to see. She could feel herself getting angry because she hated the helplessness that overwhelmed her whenever she thought of him ending what they had.
“What makes you think that there’s something wrong?”
“I’m not an idiot, Angelo. Why does it matter how I travel to work or back from work? Why are you making such a big deal of this?” Unless it’s a cover for something else. Unless you’re trying to engineer an argument so that you can use it as an excuse to break up...
