Page 50 of Saved By Love at Christmas
“Why? Don’t you like it?” His eyes, which had turned a deep blue, bored into me.
“I think I like it a little too much. Are we going too fast?” I suddenly felt a little vulnerable.
Like always, he understood my mood change and moved his stool closer to mine. “Rubes, we can go as slow or fast as you like. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise our new relationship, you know that. But you also need to know I find you incredibly sexy and beautiful. I always have.”
His admission misted my eyes.
I kissed his cheek. “I’ve always felt the same about you. Well, not beautiful, but gorgeous is more appropriate for a guy, I think.”
And just like that, we laughed together.
“Right, enough sexy talk. Let’s sort this chilli out.”
* * *
RUBY
Being with Ben was as easy as breathing. A cliché, I know, but very true. With all my previous partners, I’d felt the lack of connection, like some integral ingredient was missing. Maybe it was because, in my subconscious, I compared everyone to Ben. We’d shared everything over the years, never embarrassed about discussing any subject. I guess that was why I always felt happy and at peace when he was around.
“You’ve got that expression on your face again, Rubes.”
I blinked and looked in his direction from my spot at the kitchen table where I was supposed to be setting the cutlery.
“Which one?”
He stopped stirring the chilli and came to stand beside me. “The one where you’re having a heavy conversation with yourself.”
I placed the napkins next to the cutlery and looked back at him.
“Not heavy, but more things are coming to me now. You know, where things that happened in the past with partners now make complete sense.”
“And they are?” he asked, as he set wine glasses down on the coasters.
“Did you, when you were with previous girlfriends, think something fundamental was missing from those relationships?”
He frowned. “Kind of. They were never…” He paused and then fixed me with an intense stare that made my tummy roll.
He didn’t say a thing, and I held my breath.
He reached out and stroked my hair. “They were never you.”
“That’s exactly how I felt. I guess internally, I was comparing them to you. They never matched up.”
“I think,” he said, as he went to the fridge to get the wine, “that maybe we had to kiss a few frogs before I found my princess, or in your case, prince.”
“Trust you to get an animal-related analogy in there somewhere.”
We laughed.
I planted a kiss on his cheek as he placed the wine on the table.
“But it’s very true. And you’re one hot frog.” I winked.
“Hey, you’ve kissed me now so I’m a prince, not a frog,” he protested, his hand clutching his chest as if offended.
After kissing his cheek once more, I whispered, “Frog, prince, whatever. You’re gorgeous and all mine.”
He grumbled and ran a hand through his hair, eyes fixed on me.
