“I can’t, it’s too nice,” I tease, licking the cream from my lips.
He grins. “I’d force you into submission if you weren’t crippled.”
I laugh, then wince as my meds haven’t kicked in yet and the pain in my ribs jabs me with each rock of laughter. “Oh, how?”
He smirks, and I wonder what he’s thinking. There are many ways he could easily get me to submit. Kissing me is one and probably the easiest. He could tickle me or lick my neck or just snatch it from me, which he could easily do now. I’m not in any position to fight, but I’d prefer a kiss.
“Give us a bite, and I’ll tell you.”
A smile pushes my cheeks. I’d spoon feed it to him if I could, or better still, rub this cream over his body and lick it off. “Here.” I hold the wedge with my good arm, bringing it to his mouth.
He takes a big bite and wipes the cream from the corner of his mouth.
“Nice?”
“Yeah, I wish I’d got two slabs,” he mumbles.
“Did you not get anything while you were there?”
“No, just had a coffee.”
“They do nice cookies. Would you go again?”
“Sure.”
Of course he would. I bet he loved all the attention, being the only bloke. “Do you want another bite?”
“No, baby. You have it.”
I suck in a breath. The word baby caresses my skin, sending goosebumps along my arms like a domino effect.
I finish the cake and lick my fingers, savouring the fluffy cream taste and texture. My hand drops to my side, accidentally touching Callum’s hand as it rests in the crevice of where our legs meet. His thumb circles my palm, causing my heart to pick up a pace and a tremble courses through my body.
“Are you cold, baby?”
Before I can answer, he pulls the blanket draped over the back of the sofa behind me and covers my legs. How can I tell him it’s him? I smile and let him fuss with the cover. Then his hand goes back to resting next to mine and his thumb rubs circles on me again. With his other hand, he tugs his jeans near his groin.
“Was that a maintenance manoeuvre or a stiffy adjustment?” I joke.
He laughs, looking me up and down. “It’s those fucking sheep pyjamas. They do it for me every time.”
“Really?”
“No, Steph. Not really.”
I knock his shoulder with my good arm. “I have some reindeer ones upstairs. Perhaps they’ll get you going.”
He laughs again. If only I could get him going. He looks into my eyes . His thumb still strokes my hand, and he pulls his bottom lips between his teeth. My breathing quickens.
“Can I get you anything?”
My head shakes from side to side. I don’t want him to move or stop stroking my hand or looking into my eyes. I hope he can see how sorry I am and how much love I still have for him as he peers into my soul.
“I’m gonna put the kettle on, then I have some work to do.” He stands. “Want a drink?”
“I need the loo.”
“Come on, then.” He wraps an arm around my back, helping me off the sofa, and I hold my breath as the pain in my ribs spreads to my side and back.