Sweetly Isolated (The Swallow Barn Cottage Series, Book 1)

Catch and Don't Release

Day 10

Waking up in the bed with the man wasn't a new experience, but Tina surely approved of this deluxe edition. He was starkers, duvet wrapped around his hips - blimey, that's such a gorgeous back! - sprawled on his stomach, basically diagonally, one long arm hanging off the edge of the bed, another wrapped around her, his forearm hot and heavy on her naked stomach, his nose squashed on one side, hair sticking around his head, soft half-snores, half-snuffles escaping him. There's a dream of a man right there.

Tina ogled him for a few seconds, shook her head with a small laugh, and slid from under his extremity. A displeased noise rumbled in his throat. Tina made a comforting shush a couple of times, covered him up with the duvet, and slipped out of the bedroom.

After a visit to the loo and the bathroom, she went downstairs in her robe, and turned on the Sage. It was still dark outside. She sat down, wincing and chuckling at the same time. Her body felt unfamiliar: tired and lush. Let's face it, even when she was in a monogamous, long-term, committed relationship with a sexually active male, she'd never had that much shag - and in the course of less than twelve hours! And more so, she'd never felt that good afterwards. With August, she would have gotten up, styled her hair, and dressed in some cute outfit, and prepared an elaborate breakfast for them, some 'vegnola' or some other healthy rubbish. It would have never come to her mind to wander her cottage in her bathrobe, without putting on carefully chosen lingerie and brushing her hair - and especially without reviewing the previous night, trying to determine whether the man had enjoyed it. To think of it, there hadn't been a single instance in the last twelve hours when she'd worried about her untoned stomach or whether she looked attractive turning this way or bending that way. Holyoake letting her know what felt good - in short approving growls, often involving swearwords, which she found ever so sexy - surely helped; but mostly, she simply had been having too much fun to care!

The coffee machine beeped signalling the bevvie was ready, but Tina just continued sitting, watching snow fall behind the window. There were only five days, including this one, left - and then life would get back to normal.

See, Tina, the thing you've always been so scared of - someone in the business finding out who you really are - has happened. And the world didn't end. And it wasn't just 'someone.' It was John bloody Holyoake. And if anything, it felt ace.

There was no going back to 'normal' anymore, was there?

Tina poured herself coffee and went to her study. She turned on her computer and stared at the screen.

Two hours later a knock came to her door.

"Yes?" she said and swirled on her chair to face the door.

He stuck his disheveled head in.

"Morning." There was a sleepy smile on his face. "It's official. You're my personal Benzodiazepines. I slept like a baby. And I haven't slept that long since I was a baby." Cliché alert. But also, awww! He looked her over. "How's writing?"

Tina shook her head.

"Hm." He stepped into her study. "Didn't help, huh?"

Tina laughed. "Well, I can't say that's why I 'fell under the Christmas tree' with you - but no, it didn't help."

"Why did you fall under the Christmas tree with me?" he asked nonchalantly.

Is he pretending to study her bookshelf to hide his face? That would be adorable.

"Basically, it's the dancing," she said with a laugh.

He looked at her askance. She stretched her leg and brushed the instep of her foot to his ankle.