Page 38 of Into the Dark
“I’ll make your life hell sexually.”
“That doesn’t sound even remotely possible.” Although what he tried to do earlier, with his tongue in my… I blush just thinking of the distinctly forbidden sensation of having his mouth there.
“We’ll see. I can be very fucking demanding, doctor. You really have no idea what you’ve let yourself in for—yet again.” When he kisses me, it’s a soft, deep rekindling.
Maybe we could we have each other quickly now and slower later. I’m certain I could persuade him, tempt him. But then I remember anticipation is the art of something. I can’t remember what, though, because his tongue and mouth distract me from the lucid thought.
“So later then,” he groans. It sounds frustrated, but very male and very sexy. “Make sure you eat something, yeah? Two croissants isn’t gonna do it. It’s gonna be a long fucking night. You’ve been warned.”
“Is this the sexual hell you were talking about, Mr. Lawrence?” I say as I move out of his hold. “I’m dreading it.”
As I turn away, he smacks his hand playfully off my bare behind. I throw a shocked look over my shoulder.
“And you’re really not coming in with me?” I ask when I’m at the bathroom door. I watch gleefully as he rolls his eyes in frustration.
“I honestly deserve a fucking medal for this,” he mutters. “I need to get out of here before I explode.” He moves around the bed to grab his shirt off the floor and pulls it on. Then he grabs his jacket and car keys from the dresser and comes toward me again. When I wrap my arms around his neck, he buries his mouth in my shoulder and growls, biting the skin there softly.
“Please don’t explode. I really need you to fuck me later. A lot.”
He groans again, lifting his head from my neck to pepper my face with kisses. He starts at my temple and moves across my cheek to my mouth, and then to the tip of my nose, finishing on my forehead. “You’re fucking killing me, baby. You had better be fucking naked later when I get to your house and let myself in.” He grins, pulling my house keys out of his pocket and dangling them in the air as he walks backward to the door.
“So bloody demanding!” I shout after him, grinning like a fool.
“Naked, Alex,” is what I hear as the door shuts behind him.
I get home around 2:00 p.m., my Mini weighed down with my stuff from France and the wedding. I left my car at Nick’s and we took the tunnel over to France, and I drove straight to Illeam Castle from London. Consequently, it feels like I haven’t been home in months.
After parking the car, I rummage around in the trunk for the gift hamper I brought back as a thank-you to Ed and Betty for having Fred for me. I had Delmar make it up the day I went in to settle our account.
My mind flickers to Laurent, but it doesn’t linger for any more than a few fleeting seconds. Relief is mainly what I feel. Relief I didn’t do what I wanted to do for a short time that night. Gratitude too. Because without knowing it then, that night under the stifling-hot summer air shifted something inside me. Helped me reorder things. Disorganized piles of unmanageable things had become neat and orderly again.
There’s no answer when I press Ed and Betty’s doorbell, but their car is there, and when I walk around the side of the house I hear the sound of the lawnmower starting up. The gate is open, so I edge my way through feeling like an intruder. Ed’s head is down and focused on the loud machine striping its way across the grass, but as I move further into the garden and lift my hand up to wave at him he sees me. He waves back before the obnoxious sound of the mower cuts out.
“Hi!” I smile as I approach.
He wipes his hands on his shorts and comes toward me, smiling in a way that makes me think of my dad. “Alex, bonjour!’ he says. “I knew it was today you were back, but Bets was convinced it was tomorrow.”
“I hope she didn’t have money on it.”
“Ha, no. But I wish I did! And how was Robyn’s wedding? Weather was great for it.”
“Ah, it was. It was a magical day. She throws a wedding just as well as she throws a dinner party. Not that anyone was surprised by that.”
He laughs, casting a suspicious look at the twine shopping bag I’m holding. “I hope that’s not for us.”
I shrug apologetically. “Unfortunately, it is.” I hold it up. “And it’s got a ton of cheese in it, so you’d better hurry it inside.”
Ed takes the bag from me with a sigh.
“Is Betty around?” I ask, following him toward the house.
“No, she’s up at the farmers market with Silvia and Jess.”
Silvia is Silvia Trousdale. She lives down across from the Pig & Hen, a nice woman but with a tendency to overshare on personal details. She updates me on her foot bunions every time our paths cross. They’re receding as far as I can recall. Jess is Mrs. Knight, a widowed old trout with the sourest expression I’ve ever seen on a human. Thankfully, our paths never cross because I make sure of it. She carries a faint scent of vinegar around with her too.
“Ah, so it’s back then. That’s good to hear. I picked up the most amazing spiced chutney from it last year. Would go lovely with all that cheese.”
“Ah! Maybe if I send it telepathically, Bets will pick it up.” He gestures from his head in the direction of the market, making me laugh. “It’ll be a back for a fortnight. I’ll have to keep some of this until then.” He plonks the bag on the worktop with a noisy clunk. “It’s heavy, Alex. You need to stop this. We’ve told you we don’t mind keeping an eye him. He’s no trouble at all.”