Crawling Into Bed With
And a Good Book
Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Cotton. Silk is too slidey.
What are you wearing?
Knickers and a smile.
What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Godiva Chocolates. (in my dreams).
If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Discarded scratch cards from the National lottery, the instructions for the alarm clock and whatever detritus my beloved has fished out of his pockets.
Interesting. *pokes SA* Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
It depends on the weather. If it’s cold then it’s the burrito thing. In the warm weather, I definitely kick the duvet off.
Ahh...I see. Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Do you have a death wish?
Ahem... no. Can I borrow a pair of socks? What are we reading?
The silence left by the end of the music was broken by the soft clunk of the station’s heating system kicking in for the night. Paul’s leg brushed against mine. Without wine to dull the heat, I crossed my legs and tried not to think what his closeness was doing to me. I struggled for something to say.
“Thanks for the curry.” It seemed as good a start as any.
“My pleasure.” He shifted beside me until our shoulders touched. “It’s nice to cook for someone. It’s not really worth just cooking for myself. Do you cook?”
“A bit, but it’s fairly basic stuff.I’ve been known to open a tin or two and heat the contents up.”
Paul laughed. “You’ll have to show me what you can do.”
“All right, I will, one of these days.”
He slid his arm across the back of the settee. “I’ll hold you to that.”
I fought the urge to edge closer.
Paul moved until the gap between us disappeared. I felt his hand, light on my hair. “You don’t mind, do you?”
The hesitancy in his voice took me by surprise. He was no longer the station boss. He was just a man, finding his way.
“No, I don’t mind at all.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve really enjoyed someone’s company”—Paul curled his fingers into my hair—“the way I enjoy yours.”
I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to kiss me. “I enjoy your company, too.” I turned to face him.
Paul’s eyes were veiled in the twilight of the room. He glided his fingers over my skin, bringing them to rest on either side of my face. He leaned close, his lips parted.
I twisted my fingers into his hair and kissed him, sliding my tongue along the curl of his lower lip until his mouth opened beneath mine. Everything throbbed. Everything ached.
“Oh…Jesus…Michael.” Paul sighed, his breath warm on my lips. He rested his forehead against mine. “Talk about still waters.”
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