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“I told you, wait and see.”
It’s good to hear him laugh. The last couple of weeks were spent having far too many sombre and sobering conversations. Our world is topsy-turvy. It delivers devastating blows and in the same moment gives you more than you could ever dream of.
“How can I see if you keep this thing on?” Pulling a big sulky face, I turn to face him, grabbing onto the lapels of his wool coat to steady myself.
Although I can’t see his face, I can picture his handsome smile. His rich whisky eyes.
The cold winter breeze blusters around us, urging me closer to him until our toes touch.
“Do you trust me?” he asks with a teasing peck on my forehead.
“That’s a really silly questi—” My breath whooshes out of me as he slings me over his shoulder. His arms cross over the backs of my thighs while his hands grab ahold of my arse.
The jostling unsettles my stomach. I thought I’d get used to it, but…
I swallow down the water pooling in my mouth, ignoring the way cold sweat flecks my brow.
“You okay back there?”
Jesus, if I couldn’t feel his excitement, his behaviour would be a dead giveaway. Christopher is like a child when he’s burning over something.
My body trails down his slowly, my feet landing on top of his as his arms envelop me.
“I love you, morena.”
My cheeks heat and my heart drums loudly in my chest.
“You always tell me that before you do something really fucking stupid or pretty bloody epic.”
Silence greets my remark, and my heart starts to race.
What now?
His lips pucker on my cheek, trailing to my ear where his breaths tickle that spot that melts me into a puddle of want and need.
Pulling my lobe into his mouth, he bites down on the spongy flesh. My belly swoops, and all I can think is that I want him to keep biting and sucking.
I want to feel his hunger tear me apart. But as my hands twine in his hair, pulling him lower, he spins me away from him and my fists clench in disappointment.
He walks forward, taking me with him. I almost tip over as he reaches forward, far enough that my body tilts on the tips of his toes.
Warm, sweet air surrounds me as he pulls off my blindfold. It takes me a little while to gather myself and establish my surroundings. The whole thing hits me like a tonne of bricks. I can’t stop crying even though all I want to do is smile and laugh.
“You said it wouldn’t be ready.”
The wrought iron fence on either side of the porch has a large box with beautiful evergreens and pretty little red blooms. Their cups are speckled with the smallest wisps of ice from the rain this morning.
“I said the decorators said it wouldn’t be, but I guess I managed to convince them otherwise,” he says, taking my hand. “Come on.”
Walking me through the freshly painted, glossy black door, he wiggles his brows.
I’m completely overwhelmed as I follow his lead and toe off my leopard-print ballet pumps while he toes off his brown leather Chelsea boots. I’m so affected that I don’t think I’ll be able to take it all in properly.
He helps me take off my coat, hanging it with his on the stand by the sideboard.
The bright white hallway is furnished in some of the pieces we’d shopped for when we first bought the house. A long, thin sideboard lines the left side of the hallway, the black wood an impeccable contrast with the white walls and the ceramic black-and-white tiles.
Mix-and-match photo frames in fiery hues dot the surface. Some are photos we took, but mostly, they’re photos I’ve never seen before.
