Page 54 of Rescuing Rosie
‘Which is your favourite walk?’ she asked. ‘And can we do that together?’
‘Sure. Haystacks, probably. You’d enjoy Cat Bells.’
She looked at him. ‘Haystacks? Cat Bells? For real? Did the poetry extend to naming fells?’
‘No no – the names are ancient. The word “fell” has Norse origins, from the time of the Vikings.’
‘Wow.’
‘And most of them come from something to do with their physical appearance. Cat Bells I think means the place of wildcats – they were common here once, if you can believe that.’ He looked over at her. ‘Then there’s Cockup, Great Cockup and Little Cockup.’
‘Shutup.’
He chuckled. ‘See that fell there, towards the northwest?’
‘In English, please.’
‘Ahead to your left, at the end of that wide valley, the furthest one away.’
‘I see it.’
‘Another lovely climb. Great End.’ His face remained expressionless.
‘Great End? They should rename it Madison’s Bottom.’
‘Funny, that’s what I was thinking too.’
The Hill and Dale car was parked outside the shop, so Ant drove on past and pulled up in a parking space near the church. ‘Leave your crutches,’ he said, ‘I’ll drop you back at the hotel later.’
He supported her round the waist, and they made their way to the back of the shop, where there were two doors. He unlocked one, let Wainwright in, then helped her up a steep flight of stairs. At the top was a lounge looking out over the village green. It was piled high with boxes.
‘Kitchen’s through there,’ he said, waving at an open doorway, ‘small but there’s everything you’d need. The flat was let out furnished so it’s well equipped.’
She was barely taking in a word. It was a cute flat; it was bright, there was a view, there was stuff and it worked. Cool. Now she just wanted him to kiss her, take her to bed; she wanted his mouth on hers, on her skin, on every bit of her; she wanted to unzip his sensible trousers, pull them down, take that hardness in her hands, and guide it inside her.
‘… be enough?’ he asked.
‘Sorry, I lost concentration. I’m sure everything’s fine,’ she said, squeezing his arm.
‘So … um, shall I demonstrate the kettle?’ He turned to look at her, and a blush rose up his cheeks. Clearly, he could read her mind.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’d like you to demonstrate the bed, please. And if you’d be so kind as to carry me there.’ She unzipped her pink puffer and threw it onto a chair.
He picked her up and took her through to a small bedroom in which sat a stack of boot boxes, a double bed, a chest of drawers and a print of a painting of Grasmere – one she’d seen in the window of the local art gallery. ‘No – sorry,’ he said to Wainwright, shutting the door on him. He lay her down on the bed, unlaced her single boot and took it off, then her socks. Then he removed his own boots and fleece, and when he went to fold it up she tugged it from his hand and threw it to the floor.
He grinned. ‘In a hurry?’ Then to her surprise he removed her top with lightning speed, and with incredible dexterity,whipped off her leggings while making sure not to hurt her ankle. Then he removed his own shirt and trousers, revealing a breathtaking body, no doubt honed by all that climbing and walking and carrying heavy packs. As he did, she took off her underwear.
He sat down on the bed and gazed at her. ‘Rosie – it’s been a while. I’m out of practice.’ He trailed a finger down from her neck, between her breasts, and on down her stomach, stopping at the top of her legs. Her heart began to pound as her body flooded with heat, and she squirmed beneath his touch.
‘I’m here for your revision,’ she gasped. ‘Just here’s good.’ She took his hand and opened her legs.
He stayed sitting where he was, his eyes locked on hers, his pupils dilating, and slowly moved his fingers until he found her sweet spot, and she sucked in a breath, then moaned, whispering, ‘Yes, god yes.’ He carried on, and she lay, hardly moving, not wanting to break the exquisite tension – of his eyes locked on hers, of his fingers stroking, circling, entering her, sliding in and out, faster, deeper.
Already, she felt herself on the edge, and caught hold of his hand.
‘Let me …’ she said, sitting up, and she pulled off his boxers then took him in her hand. He closed his eyes and let out a soft groan.
It was too much. She couldn’t wait. She lifted her left leg across him, oblivious to any pain in her ankle, and sat in his lap, taking his face in her hands, kissing him deeply. Their mouths opened and their tongues curled together; she pushed her breasts into him, her nipples hard against his warm, broad, firm torso.
