Page 119 of Summer At Willow Tree Farm

As soon as the kids had disappeared around the side of the farmhouse, Art grabbed her round the waist and dragged her to him. He kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, reminding her he’d had to leave at dawn and they’d missed their usual morning canoodle.

She plunged her fingers into his hair, and devoured his mouth right back. Forced to draw back, she sucked an unsteady breath into her lungs. Heat spread up her torso at the hunger in his eyes.

Good grief, would their passion for each other never cease?

She cradled his jaw. She certainly hoped not.

‘Why do I get the feeling you are not remotely upset that Toto found the sledges ahead of schedule?’ she asked.

He kissed her nose. ‘Because I’m not. It’s all part of my evil plan.’

Grasping her hand, he led her towards the house.

‘What evil plan?’ she said, aiming for coy but getting breathless instead.

‘Guess?’ he said, slamming open the farmhouse door and kicking off his boots.

He gave her a few seconds to lose her own boots.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘Your evil plan is to get an hour’s head start on the vegetable prep for tomorrow’s lunch.’

‘Nope. And don’t remind me of that,’ he said, then bent down and hefted her onto his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

She shrieked as he spun her round, the lights from the Christmas tree a blur of motion as her heart slammed into her ribs and her head swam. ‘Art, put me down.’

‘Shut up.’ He gave her bottom a playful swat and began to march up the stairs, bouncing her effervescent stomach on his shoulder each step of the way. ‘Now guess again.’

‘Your evil plan is to punish me for all the vegetable prep we’re going to have to do for tomorrow’s lunch by dropping me on my head,’ she said, wriggling furiously, and laughing breathlessly at the same time, as excitement and anticipation shimmered through her body.

‘Closer,’ he said, as he dumped her on the bed in their bedroom – the bedroom that had once been hers alone during the first months of her stay at the farmhouse.

Climbing on top of her, he gripped her wrists and flung her hands above her head. Trapped under him, her heart kicked her ribs in hard heavy thuds, the fierce love she felt for him reflected in the deep chocolate brown as his gaze roamed over her face, then fixed on her lips.

‘Figured it out yet?’ he asked.

She nodded, the emotion too full to allow for coherent speech.

‘Good.’ He kissed her thoroughly, making her moan, as his lips trailed down to her collarbone and sucked on the pounding pulse in her neck.

As he implemented his evil plan, locating each one of her erogenous zones and exploiting them mercilessly, the question that had been mocking her for days now, no weeks, lurched into the forefront of her mind. The question she had been too scared to ask. Then drifted away again, as the endorphin rush drowned out everything but the taste, the feel of Art.

*

Eventually they lay naked and sated on the sheets, her hand resting on his chest. His fingers stroked her hair as he cradled the back of her head and held her close.

She propped herself up on her elbow to look down at the harsh, handsome face she had come to adore.

‘Art?’

He groaned. ‘I know, we need to get up and in the shower before they get back.’

His eyelids opened and he turned to look out the window. Snow had started to fall again in big fat flakes, illuminated by the foggy light of the wintry dusk.

He closed his eyes again and tugged her closer.

‘But there’s no rush,’ he said, snuggling her into his side. ‘We both know they’re not going to get back until it’s pitch dark.’ A lazy, satisfied smile split his face. ‘Thank God our kids never do a bloody thing we tell them.’

Our kids.