Chapter 10 #3
A trio of beeps again — this time I recognize it as a microwave announcing its task is done.
Moments later, heavy, slow footsteps clang on the staircase.
A lowered head of tousled black hair appears, then a wide, brown chest bearing a smattering of dark hair, then finally a large tray full of breakfast delights being carried very carefully.
Rob, in nothing but a pair of white briefs, steps up into the room.
He looks up at me, his expression triumphant.
“Those stairs are so tight, I didn’t think I’d make it without the whole tray going overboard.” He sets it on the bed.
“Wow. You didn’t have to do all this.” Although I’m glad he has.
“Well, I was hungry. And I didn’t, really. The inn doesn’t normally serve breakfast to the cabins, but I have ways of making things happen.” He winks comically. “The lattes got a little cool, so I nuked them, but otherwise it’s all fresh.”
He leans in for a kiss, his movements natural. “Morning, beautiful.” He smirks at me. “You’re . . . disheveled, to be honest. And a bit sweaty. But still gorgeous.” He kisses me again.
I laugh, and then cover my mouth with my hand. “Thanks. And probably suffering from dragon breath, too.”
“I didn’t like to say anything, but . . . Have a reheated latte. That will help.”
He waggles his eyebrows and gestures to the tray with a flourish. “Madame, for you we ’ave herbed pancakes with poached eggs, because it is Easter Sunday, cured salmon, cheese scones and homemade yogurt. And plum nectar, I think they said.”
“Fantastic. I’m starving. Also, slightly hungover.” I grab a plate and a fork and dig into a pancake with some salmon and a poached egg on top, the yolk oozing.
“Yeah, well, I had to get you drunk enough to finally get you into bed, didn’t I?” he jokes. “But not so drunk you’d pass out. Had to make you think it was your idea. All part of my cunning masterplan.” He rubs his hands together then takes a large bite of a cheese scone.
“Your evil genius worked. Well played, sir. I am but putty in your hands.”
“Yeah, you are.” He takes another bite and chews. “Okay then, today. We could stay in bed all day.” He looks at me suggestively. “But then again, it’s beautiful, clear, sunny. We should probably make the most of being here and go outside. It’s 10.45 already.”
“What?” I mumble through the delicious pancake. “I thought it was earlier.”
“I guess we were up pretty late. I don’t think we got to sleep until maybe three. Four? It’s kind of a blur.”
I grin. “Yeah, I was having some fairly pornographic flashbacks. Last night was incredible. The most incredible ever.”
“Oh, yeah? Best ever?” He lifts an eyebrow.
“Well, don’t get all cocky on me now. It’s probably muscle memory, right?
I mean, for me it was the first time we’ve slept together, but not for you, far from it.
And not even for my body. It was probably all programmed how to please each other.
Nothing to do with any skill on your part, of course.
” I poke him in the ribs as he takes a forkful of my pancake.
“Is that right?” He grins back at me. “We’ll have to try again and see, won’t we?”
Two hours later, we’re still in bed, the square of sunlight in a different spot, now highlighting the sheen on Rob’s bare chest. Lying against his shoulder, I trace my fingers across his smooth skin, stroking the patch of hair on his chest.
“I feel so lucky to have met you. It could so easily have never happened.”
“Me too.” Rob kisses my head and keeps his mouth there, murmuring into my frizzed-up hair. “I’ve always felt so lucky that we met, but even more today. The luckiest guy alive.” He squeezes me.
I squeeze him back, then lean back to look up at his face, my head resting in the crook of his elbow. His eyes are damp.
“Hey,” I say, reaching up to touch his face.
“Sorry. It’s just I — I’ve been waiting for this. I’m happy.” He wipes his face against his free arm, and looks back at me. “I love you so much, Josie. And I wasn’t sure you were going to come back to me.”
He’s so sweet. “I know. But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere. I’m . . . so in love with you. Totally, completely, in love with you. I guess it was always going to happen. I’m still me, and you’re you, so—”
But his kiss stops me, and we fall into each other yet again, both of us saying, “I love you, I love you,” more times than I can count. Now we’ve started, it seems almost impossible to stop.
It’s late afternoon by the time we make it out of bed, and that’s only to take a shower and brush our teeth.
“I reek,” I admit, putting on a white bathrobe.
He nods. “Yep, you do. But so do I. You’re getting a five-minute head start in the shower, then I’m coming in.”
We never make it outside that day, despite the sunshine.
We order dinner in and eat in our bathrobes in the living room.
Then we make lazy love on the couch, sliding onto the floor, eventually lying on our backs on the carpet, spent, and deliriously happy.
But the floor is too hard to relax on, so we drag ourselves up the iron stairs again to the mussed-up bed in the loft, which becomes our private paradise for a second night.
I don’t want to leave this place. Or him. Ever.
I’m sorry, David.
I don’t think I’m coming back for you.