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

Stop, Drop, and Roll

2 out of 2 :)

Please, read and comment on the author's note at the end of this chapter.

Cheers! xx

Love,

K.

***

Seven days later...

"Oli," she called and kissed his warm, slightly salty skin.

He hummed under her, signalling he was listening.

"Are we not going to get up and work? Again?" she asked.

She properly didn't feel like it - but someone had to point out that in the past seven days they had worked for, maybe, four hours in total. They had tried! They'd sit down, and then one would reach for another - and hello, another round on the floor. Or the kitchen table. Or a chair. Or against the wall. So many walls in this cottage! Or the bed. Oh, that bed! Those bedposts! So many usages!

He hummed again, this time with a slightly different intonation, and she stretched on him and rubbed her nose to his nape. He pushed his left hand behind him and stroked her hip.

"You're right," she said and settled her cheek on him. "We can always try tomorrow."

She drew a lazy circle on his shoulder with the tips of her fingers, and skimmed them along his upper arm and down to his elbow. She stopped there, not wanting to touch his forearm. The scar from his surgery was red, and she'd noticed some swelling.

"So, what did Dr. Fenton say about your arm?" she asked nonchalantly.

Technically, she had no right to stick her nose in his business. For the past six and a half days - he'd had an appointment in the surgery one morning and had been away - they had stayed in the cottage, hadn't seen anyone - and nothing had been discussed between them. They had shagged - all the time! - and talked, shockingly, almost as much as they shagged. They'd talked about their childhoods, their past, their exes, music, books, films. They'd even tried to watch some. They had managed to watch about ten minutes of Monty Python's Life of Brian. Well, maybe eight. On minute seven you were already kissing his neck, Ulla. He was not paying attention to the screen at that stage. Let's face it, Oliver Holyoake now knew more about her than any other human being. And still, 'technically'...

"He referred me to Abernathy General. I'm going for some tests on Monday," he answered sleepily. "He thinks the fixation plate might have shifted after the initial surgery."

Ulla lifted her head and looked at his scar. She appreciated his openness and that he didn't downplay his injury - but she suspected he was in more pain than he let on.

"How soon after the initial surgery?" she asked gingerly.

He chuckled under her.

"Definitely before you showed up at my doorstep," he said and looked back at her over his shoulder.

"I'm just worried–" She caught his glimpse and grimaced. "And yes, I do worry. No need to look so smug! What I'm saying is that there's no way you're paying much attention to it when we shag, and we might be making matters worse."

He didn't answer, and she saw the corner of his lips curl up.

"What's up?" she asked in a grumpy tone.

"Nothing," he said.

She made a dischuffed noise and slid off him.

"I need water," she grumbled and climbed off the bed. "Maybe we should have a cuppa. What time is it even?"