Between Heaven and Rock (The Swallow Barn Cottage Series, Book 3)

Help!

Here's part 2. Let me know what you think :P

K. <3

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"Ms. Svensson," a soft voice called her, and she moaned and burrowed deeper into whatever warm and delicious she'd been snuggling. "Ulla?"

Her wonderful pillow shifted, and she moaned in disapproval, sank her nails into its soft surface, and pulled it closer.

"Ulla," the velvet male voice called her again.

She'd slept with plenty of men with good voices - but this one was somewhere in the Top 5 Sexiest Male Baritones That Made Ulla's Thoughts Turn to Shag.

"Shut up," she grumbled, "I'm asleep."

"Doubtfully," the man answered with a low throaty chuckle. "You're talking."

She should properly wake up and investigate the rest of the man attached to this voice - and have her wicked way with him, as they put it in the rubbish novels she had to edit at work.

"Don't underestimate the gob," she answered.

God, he feels good. She couldn't quite place who he was - but who cares? So moreish! Something about him near her made her body feel lush, and jolly, and... soft. Ulla was never soft. This was surprisingly perfect.

And then she remembered who the man near her was.

At least he's not pushing her off the bed.

She needed to move away from him. That was Oliver Holyoake - and he had idiosyncrasies, the very idiosyncrasies she'd chosen to respect. She sighed and edged away from him.

"Here, let me help you," he murmured, and she felt him tug at the duvet she was curled on.

She climbed under it, and he covered her.

"I'll be right back," he whispered.

She hummed and nuzzled her pillow. This time, it was an actual pillow, but it smelled like him, and she slightly squirmed in discomfort. Ugh. This pulling sensation under one's navel was only fun when there was a relief in one's future. A multiple relief preferably. Also, it might be her half-awake libido and her half-asleep self-control talking, but he affected her more than all those other fit men she'd had in her bed, didn't he? And it wasn't just the looks, either. It was his smell, his scorching skin - the Holyoake signature, as it turned out - and just the vibe of him. Must be something chemical.

What a pity.

Ulla opened her eyes, suddenly wide awake. Is it your six month dry spell, or are you actually that much into him, Ulla? She rolled on her back and stared at the ceiling. Nope, it is not just the dry spell. There was just one thing to do in this case. She needed a shower.

She patiently waited, taking measured breaths and keeping her imagination in check for the time being. Let him come back from the bathroom, Ulla. The bloke's probably brushing teeth. And then she'd go, turn on the shower head on the most rewarding setting, and... release the tension.

He's taking his time, isn't he? Does he have several rows of teeth like a shark behind those lovely lips of his?

Stop thinking about his lips. Bugger. And his shoulders. And his arms. And his thighs. God, the thighs... And those long fingers, that would feel so good in– Stop it! He'd be back any moment. He'd taken a shower earlier in the day. She needed to stop panting. And her hand needed to stop, right there on her stomach, instead of sliding lower, and– Stop it! Ulla bit into her bottom lip, suppressing a moan.