time for breakfast.’
Fliss smiled and nodded her agreement. He crossed the room to kiss her briefly before disappearing. Sunlight was only just starting to trickle through the windows. She stretched pleasurably, then snuggled back under the duvet for an uninterrupted two hours of sleep.
Luke ruthlessly put Fliss out of his mind as he went through the daily routines of morning stables. There was more than enough to keep his mind fully occupied. Only when he turned back to the house and let himself remember who was waiting there for him did the vived memories of the previous night – not to mention the early morning – come flooding back.
He’d promised himself one night and hoped it would be enough to satisfy his curiosity. He had needed to slake his unexpected and overwhelming desire for this all-too enticing woman. But as his mind’s eye traced the delectable contours of Fliss’s naked body, Luke realised it had been nowhere near enough. He wanted more. He wanted her. Now. And tonight. And all the nights after that that it would take to get her out of his system.
He was perilously close to giving in. He could slip back into bed, roll them both over and bring her back to consciousness with his kisses until she was squirming beneath him, ready with wanting, just as she had been last night. She’d wrap her legs around him, teasing and tempting, urging him on until he couldn’t help but lose control.
Luke had never had a problem saying no before. But there was something about Fliss which made him abandon all his carefully constructed rules and firmly established boundaries.
He just didn’t know how to resist her.
And the thought of where that could lead terrified him.
‘There’s bacon in the oven. How do you like your eggs?’ Fliss’s question was prosaic enough, though the sparkle in her eyes was anything but.
Luke leaned against the kitchen door and surveyed the chaos. He ought to be relieved that she wasn’t waiting in his bed. Instead, Fliss had clearly wasted no time in making herself at home. She was sitting on the old rocking chair, with her feet up on the table and the kitten curled happily in her lap. His kitchen table normally held a neatly folded newspaper and a few placemats but today it was strewn with the evidence of Fliss’s breakfast: toast crumbs, a milk carton with the lid nowhere to be seen, and Luke’s newspaper crumpled and sticky with honey.
Yet he still couldn’t stop his mouth curving into a smile at the sight of her. He’d never known a woman who managed to look as gorgeous at the breakfast table as she did. No make up. Hair unbrushed. Wearing the old sweater he’d lent her the day before and a pair of his pyjama bottoms, rolled up several times. Effortlessly adorable.
He walked across to the Welsh dresser and switched the radio off. Loudly blaring pop music was not his preferred accompaniment to meals.
‘Scrambled,’ he said into the sudden silence. ‘Thanks.’
Fliss scooped Marshmallow up off her lap and handed her to Luke while she went over to the range. He noticed that she’d borrowed another pair of his socks.
‘Coffee’s in the pot,’ she said. ‘Unless you prefer tea?’
‘Coffee’s fine.’ Luke stroked the kitten briefly and then deposited her in the cardboard box bed where two empty bowls indicated that she’d already been fed and watered.
‘I wrote down your phone messages.’ Fliss nodded towards the notepad on the sideboard. ‘Mr Zhao was very eager that you should ring him later to discuss Chrysanthemum’s prospects.’
‘Fine.’ Luke poured coffee into a mug and picked up the newspaper in a pointed attempt to block any further breakfast table conversation. The more he engaged with her chatter, the harder it was to remember that he had to send her away. Today. This morning. As
Learning to Kill: Stories