still finding it hard to believe. “I love it. It feels so right.”
“Our room, do you think?” his tone was mellow, sexy.
“Yep, definitely.”
He was behind her, pressing close. “Then I think it needs christening.” He began nuzzling her neck provocatively.
He didn’t mean right now, surely? “But the removals men could be here any minute…” her voice weakened as his lips moved to the base of her ear lobe, kissing it gently, then she felt it tug ever so softly between his teeth. His voice teasing, husky, “Minutes is fine by me…”
She turned to face him. He clasped his hands around her buttocks, pulling her to him. Her body responded in spite of herself, pressed hard against his erection.
A yearning for him warmed within. God, she wanted him. Right here. Right now.
Their lips locked together, pressing, twisting. The salty-sweet taste of him. She unbuttoned his shirt, in a rush of fingers and fumbles.
He pulled her jumper off over her head. Nestled his head between her breasts as he expertly found the hooks of her bra and released them, revealing her breasts. He gently licked a nipple, sending a dart of pleasure between her thighs. She sighed, pulled at his belt, undoing the waistband of his jeans, feeling the heat of him through his boxer shorts, his hardness beneath her fingertips. He pulled them off in a rush as she flung her own lacy panties aside.
“I love you, Kitty.” He pulled her close to him.
“I love you,” her voice a whisper.
Naked, together, in a bare room.
The carpet was soft under her thighs, her back. It was a mossy-green colour – they had changed it for a new one since. She had wondered then, if the old lady had had a husband, if they had ever made love on the floor of their bedroom on that green carpet? Had they had a family? Had their children been conceived there?
And then she was lost to his entering her. Michael’s beautiful body bearing down on her, strong yet tender. The warm, deep gliding, filling her with his love. She gave herself to him, losing the thread of all her thoughts to a blur of passion, his groan close to her ear, as he came. The release of his muscles above her, as he moved to rest gently on his forearms, brushing a gentle kiss against her forehead. The blood still pumping through their chests, pressed together.
A slow grin spread across her face.
A sharp toot outside. The horn of a lorry.
“Oh shit!” He withdrew hastily and leapt up.
Kate laughing, still lying there.
“The removals!”
How come she can remember all this? And yet, she can hardly remember what she did yesterday?
She liked to think that that was the day when Charlotte had been conceived. It was about six weeks afterwards when she realised she might be pregnant. Funny how she can remember it all in such detail, down to the feel of that carpet on her back. The wide grin on his face as he scrambled back into his clothes… A time when he loved her. She wasn’t just imagining it.
When did that go? How can that love just go?
He was still tucking the back of his shirt into his jeans as he opened the door, the buzzer having gone twice. She flattened her hair with her hands and crushed the guilty grin that threatened to break out across her face, as Michael revealed the burly middle-aged man at their threshold.
“Thought we’d beaten you to it for a minute there.” The removals man smiled through stained, gappy teeth.
“Oh, no,” Michael replied.
Kate pursed her lips to stop her giggling. She’d hoped desperately there wasn’t a giveaway damp patch on the carpet as the men in overalls unloaded the queen-size bed into their room just ten minutes later.
And here she was, in their bed, in that bedroom, suspended a foot or so above the very spot where they made love, and she found that she was crying yet-a-bloody-again.
She placed a hand gently across the small rise of her stomach. There was no baby. She’d found out an hour ago. Did the test straight away. Nothing inside
“Our room, do you think?” his tone was mellow, sexy.
“Yep, definitely.”
He was behind her, pressing close. “Then I think it needs christening.” He began nuzzling her neck provocatively.
He didn’t mean right now, surely? “But the removals men could be here any minute…” her voice weakened as his lips moved to the base of her ear lobe, kissing it gently, then she felt it tug ever so softly between his teeth. His voice teasing, husky, “Minutes is fine by me…”
She turned to face him. He clasped his hands around her buttocks, pulling her to him. Her body responded in spite of herself, pressed hard against his erection.
A yearning for him warmed within. God, she wanted him. Right here. Right now.
Their lips locked together, pressing, twisting. The salty-sweet taste of him. She unbuttoned his shirt, in a rush of fingers and fumbles.
He pulled her jumper off over her head. Nestled his head between her breasts as he expertly found the hooks of her bra and released them, revealing her breasts. He gently licked a nipple, sending a dart of pleasure between her thighs. She sighed, pulled at his belt, undoing the waistband of his jeans, feeling the heat of him through his boxer shorts, his hardness beneath her fingertips. He pulled them off in a rush as she flung her own lacy panties aside.
“I love you, Kitty.” He pulled her close to him.
“I love you,” her voice a whisper.
Naked, together, in a bare room.
The carpet was soft under her thighs, her back. It was a mossy-green colour – they had changed it for a new one since. She had wondered then, if the old lady had had a husband, if they had ever made love on the floor of their bedroom on that green carpet? Had they had a family? Had their children been conceived there?
And then she was lost to his entering her. Michael’s beautiful body bearing down on her, strong yet tender. The warm, deep gliding, filling her with his love. She gave herself to him, losing the thread of all her thoughts to a blur of passion, his groan close to her ear, as he came. The release of his muscles above her, as he moved to rest gently on his forearms, brushing a gentle kiss against her forehead. The blood still pumping through their chests, pressed together.
A slow grin spread across her face.
A sharp toot outside. The horn of a lorry.
“Oh shit!” He withdrew hastily and leapt up.
Kate laughing, still lying there.
“The removals!”
How come she can remember all this? And yet, she can hardly remember what she did yesterday?
She liked to think that that was the day when Charlotte had been conceived. It was about six weeks afterwards when she realised she might be pregnant. Funny how she can remember it all in such detail, down to the feel of that carpet on her back. The wide grin on his face as he scrambled back into his clothes… A time when he loved her. She wasn’t just imagining it.
When did that go? How can that love just go?
He was still tucking the back of his shirt into his jeans as he opened the door, the buzzer having gone twice. She flattened her hair with her hands and crushed the guilty grin that threatened to break out across her face, as Michael revealed the burly middle-aged man at their threshold.
“Thought we’d beaten you to it for a minute there.” The removals man smiled through stained, gappy teeth.
“Oh, no,” Michael replied.
Kate pursed her lips to stop her giggling. She’d hoped desperately there wasn’t a giveaway damp patch on the carpet as the men in overalls unloaded the queen-size bed into their room just ten minutes later.
And here she was, in their bed, in that bedroom, suspended a foot or so above the very spot where they made love, and she found that she was crying yet-a-bloody-again.
She placed a hand gently across the small rise of her stomach. There was no baby. She’d found out an hour ago. Did the test straight away. Nothing inside
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