Page 93 of A Country Practice Christmas
‘It’ll look better after it’s painted,’ he says.
I hold up my ornaments. ‘Where do these go?’
Grumbling under his breath that it might’ve been a mistake to tell me about Christmas, he pulls me to the end of a hallway to what will be a kitchen but is currently an expansive timber island bench and a hotchpotch of unrelated appliances: a portable induction stove; an air fryer sitting on a bar fridge.
‘I was going to get the kitchen built next.’
‘You’re renovating the terrace instead.’
Cameron’s tree is a spruce like the one he set up at Julia’s house, but this one is only chest height.
‘You don’t have any decorations.’
‘I gave them away.’
I hang the dove, the cow and the rosella at the top of the tree, but Cameron hangs the snowflake sphere at the bottom. ‘Smallest to largest,’ he explains.
‘There are ornament rules?’
‘Also sleeping rules.’ He kisses my nose. ‘Bed.’
‘Your house is big.’
‘CJ kept telling me to add to it.’
‘I liked Reuben.’
‘Me too.’
First, Cameron shows me a bathroom, then a simply furnished room with a single bed. He leaves my bag inside the door.
‘This is CJ’s room. The sheets are clean. I’ll be back soon.’
He leaves so quickly I don’t have the chance to ask questions. But I use the bathroom, brush my teeth, dress in shortie pyjamas with pink candy stripes and perch on the end of the bed. When he appears in the doorway, I spring to my feet.
‘Why do you want me to sleep here?’
He puts his hands on my shoulders. ‘I’m not going to rush you.’
‘You’ve looked after my horse for sixteen years. I can’t see how that’s rushing.’
He lifts his head, narrows his eyes. ‘Sex.’
‘Because I’m not as experienced as you? That’s arrogant.’
‘I love you.’ No prevarication. My knees wobble. He tips up my chin. ‘I love every single thing.’
Within a heartbeat, my lips are on his and my hands are in his hair and his tongue is in my mouth and his hands are on my waist and his erection is pressing hard against my thigh. Then, hands sliding from my waist to my hips, his mouth still on mine, he stands and walks me backwards out of the room. Desperate to ease the ache in my thighs, I cling onto his shoulders and wrap my legs around his hips. Taking my weight easily, he adjusts my position and that makes the ache even worse. Another kiss, teasing, taunting, as he carries me into the bedroom and we tumble onto the bed. Then a long, slow, wet kiss that heats me from the top of my head to my breasts to my thighs to my toes. He rolls me onto my back, pushes hair from my face. He rubs my mouth with careful fingers.
‘You’ll give me a chance?’
I kiss his serious mouth. ‘A snowflake is an infinite number of equilateral triangles. That’s how I feel about you.’
He groans a laugh. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I think I’ve always loved you.’ I wrap my arms around his neck. ‘And I always will.’
He trails a path of kisses down my neck, nuzzles my breasts and circles with his tongue until I squirm. When he lies on his side, our bodies line up. He strokes my skin until I’m shaky and needy and desperate to have him inside me.
