Sexy Hart (Sexy Series) (20 page)

“Fuck, yeah,” he growls through gritted teeth, bending his head to kiss my jaw. “You feel so good, Clare…”

“Mmm…” I moan, totally overwhelmed but sated. He slowly takes his fingers from my jeans and continues to kiss my jaw as I pant, leaning against his chest - his hand still over my mouth, and his finger still clamped between my teeth.

“Naughty…” he mumbles with a chuckle.

“Oh my… so naughty,” I manage, “we need to get back…”

“Mmm hmm, though I wish I could stay right here - tasting your soft skin all evening.”

“Tonight,” I say, certainly, as he moves his hand from my face, resting it on my hip. “Tonight you can taste me all night; we can be alone, together… all night.”

“Can’t fucking wait.” His voice - mellifluous, and so god damned sexy.  I want to go and lay down with him now - I could simply kiss him for hours before spending the whole night getting down to it, tightly wrapped in each other.

I take the bottle of water from the fridge as he leaves to go to the bathroom, ensuring he kisses my lips before he goes, making the most of being alone. I have to stand against the fridge for a moment before I go back outside; I need to compose myself after my explosive orgasm of a few minutes ago -
gosh.
So unexpected… so hot.

We sit outside by the pool to eat in the warmth. It’s not as hot as Vegas
was, but it’s a lovely balmy temperature and the sky is the most beautiful deep lavender colour as the evening sets in. I offer (of course) to hold Emily while everyone eats - Tilly looked happy to hold her while she ate; Luke was lovingly cutting up her food so she only needed one hand, but I couldn’t resist offering because I want that baby in my arms so badly.

“I’m okay, Clare, I probably should get used to this…”

“But… but I’m leaving tomorrow. Please? Please can I have a go?” I whine, hoping she’ll let me snuggle.

Tilly giggles and stands to walk to me, bending to place the baby in my arms. “Auntie Clare, you only needed to say you wanted a cuddle. She will miss you, too.”

Holding a baby is so different to anything else in the world; they’re heavy - I mean - they’re light compared to normal humans, but these curled up, sleepy little masses are such a warm, soft, wonderful type of weight.

Made up of miniature everything, it’s just so unbelievable that it can all function so capably; that tiny little heart pumping away perfectly; the small amount of blood rushing through her veins; weeny little bones - these toes, for a start, they’re smaller than Tic-
Tacs! It’s so incredible how the beautiful little things we coo over - are, in fact, a mass of cells working harder than ever to thrive and develop into perfect little people. It makes her all the more amazing to me.

I have held hundreds of babies in my time, but Wriggler… Emily - she’s different. I love her like I would my own baby. I feel especially ‘right’ holding her - like I’ve arrived home, to a place I know I need to be but haven’t managed to reach until now. The problem is, I’m leaving again, and this ‘home’ isn’t mine anyway - it’s Tilly’s. This is her baby and this is
her
warmth and
her
joy and
her
home. Why do I feel like this is so far out of reach for me with Oliver?

“Do you want to eat, darling?” he asks, surprising me, his face happy, though - maybe a little concerned for me. Which comforts me to some degree.

“I’m okay, thank you. I’d rather make the most of Emily while I can.”

“Well, here - you must be hungry,” he says, taking a chicken skewer from a dish in the
centre of the table and using his fork to slide the meat and vegetables onto his plate. “Open up…” He stabs a perfectly grilled pepper chunk and piece of chicken with his fork and lifts it to my mouth - feeding me.

It’s delicious and I’m glad he ignored me and decided to fill my belly for his own satisfaction. “Oh… that’s so nice, okay - you can feed me.”

He chuckles and continues to put food in my mouth, careful not to drop any on my…
our
precious little niece or her fabulous outfit.

Having thought about it, I’m not too concerned about being close in this way in front of everybody else; we’d definitely have acted like this before, when we were ‘just friends’. The thing I’m noticing, however, is that I’m constantly asking the question. When we talk to each other and smile or laugh, or one of us touches the other, I start questioning how normal it is and if we’d have done this before, and if they’re going to know anything.

Now everyone knows we’ve been intimate, I feel like they’re all observing us to see if we act any differently, and because I know we’re married, it’s doubly unsettling, so I’m constantly analysing how our every move appears to everybody else. I can see how this could get exhausting. I’m really looking forward to being alone with him so we can relax and be ‘us’, though I’m dreading leaving everybody behind because I’m going to miss them so much. At least two of them will be coming back to the UK just a few days after us so I’ll have two less to miss.

Oliver feeds me the last of the skewer meat and looks over all of the food on the table. He begins to select a few different things, spooning a delicious variety of tastiness onto his plate. “Okay,” he says, “is there anything I missed or did I get most of the stuff you like?”

“That’s for me?” I ask, smiling, that little giddy feeling returning at the thought of this confident, sexy, masculine piece of eye candy spending time thinking solely about me; picking stuff out for me, deciphering which foods
I’d
prefer.

“Of course,”

“Aww,” I say, wishing I could kiss his tempting lips, “that’s so sweet. Thank you, you got everything I would have picked myself.”

“I knew it!” he says excitedly, like he was playing some sort of game - testing
himself.

“Aww,” Tilly says, “looking after our Clare, Oliver?”

“Of course, can’t have our friend going hungry while she tends to your offspring, can we?”

“Quite right.” she responds with a grin and a wink.

I wrap the soft, pink blanket a little tighter around the baby and lift her to my shoulder, resting one hand on her super-cute, nappy-wrapped, tiny bottom and the other on her beautiful little head, as Oliver begins to feed me again. The food is delicious and I feel so special sitting here, cradling my favourite cherub and being cared for by my handsome BFF. No; husband.
Husband.

When everybody has finished and an evening chill fills the air around us, Gemma and Jay say their goodbyes and take little Jack home, and the rest of us move inside. The gentlemen clear up the dishes, not allowing any of the ladies to help, so we relax on the sofas, tired, yawning and ready for bed. It has been a very long day - for Oliver and I particularly - but a long journey is exhausting, not to mention your first few days with a new baby, so we’re all quiet, comfortable and content just sitting, thinking.

I still have Emily but I know I’ll have to pass her over to someone else any minute. It was wonderful to be able to feed her; Tilly isn’t breastfeeding for one reason or another - I’m not going to ask questions, she’ll do what’s right for her - but it means that Luke and any other lucky person is able to offer her the small amount of expressed breast milk that Tilly has managed to pump. I’m surprised by just how little she takes of it, newborn bellies must be so tiny.

Tilly says getting the milk hurts a lot and I can understand why; having a pump attached to a super-tender nipple, productively sucking whatever can be retrieved must be really quite sore. Just as having a little person tugging on them must be equally as painful. Ouch. (Still want to do it though, pump or babe, I’ll happily take that pain if the Universe decides to bless me with my own.)

As my friends close their eyes and rest back, the men quietly return to join us. Daniel sits with Bea and pulls her into his embrace so she curls up and tucks herself under his arm. Luke does something fairly similar with Til, and Oliver comes to sit between Alexia and I.

“Now, would you both like a cuddle or would just one of you like to be my side-warmer?” he asks, quietly.

Alexia smiles and shakes her head. “I’m good, thanks, Oliver.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, shuffling a little closer
to me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders as Emily curls her delicate little hand around my forefinger.

Again, I have to assess the situation to confirm that this is something we would have done prior to the impulsive madness that was ‘Vegas’. And yes, of course it is. I can relax knowing that we were in this very position before we even left for the memorable trip a couple of days ago.

He strokes her soft hair and surprises me by kissing my cheek. I immediately look around me at everyone else but they’re all semi-asleep with eyes closed so - thank goodness - no one saw. I take the opportunity to look up at his face and smile, simply taking in his handsome features. It’s funny how I’ve always seen them before, but now they’re even more gorgeous than I’ve ever noticed, and I try to accept that this handsome face is my husband.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers, “I’ll keep an eye on the baby, enjoy your cuddle and have a rest.”

I smile at him, grateful for his thoughtfulness, and I kiss the air; an act of affection intended only for him. He grins, perfectly, and returns the gesture, my eyes automatically locking on those full, delicious lips and the stubble framing them. Oh gosh, I could pash this dazzlingly good looking man really rather enthusiastically right now, given appropriate circumstances.

“Stop, I know where your mind is headed, and this isn’t the place,” he whispers, grinning cheekily. I’m an open book when it comes to Oliver, how he can tell so much just from reading my face is really quite impressive, no one else has ever been so intuitive before, when it comes to my facial expressions.

I look down and smile, bashfully, concentrating on Emily’s tiny fingernails to distract me from the super-horn. I can already feel myself twitch down there just thinking about an indulgent, lusty snog-fest with him.

“Later,” he whispers at my ear, brushing his lips against it, sexily. My eyes close immediately, desperately wishing we were alone and wrapped up in one another so I could lick and suck and….
uh.

It’s not long before Emily’s tiny little body writhes in my arms, waking me abruptly from my doze.

“It’s okay,” Oliver whispers, reassuringly, “she’s just having a little stretch.”

I lift her to my shoulder between us and pat her back gently, allowing her to get
cosy again. She makes a few cute little sucky noises before drifting back into her baby dreams, facing Oliver. He tilts his head to look closely at her face and he smiles, stunningly, his eyes twinkling in delight; I can so clearly see how smitten he is by our best friend’s baby and it brings a slight pain to my chest… I want that so badly, I want that with
our
baby, too. I love how much he appears to want this himself.

He kisses her head, gently, and rests his hand on top of mine on her back. I feel so content like this, so comfortable and filled with love for these two wonderful people. My time will come; someday, it’ll be my turn to hold my baby and snuggle like this with his or her daddy, together as a family. Our family. My family.

“I’m sorry, Mum and Dad,” Tilly whispers, surprising me as she stands in front of us, “but I’m going to need my munchkin back now, I’m missing her. You do look like the perfect parents though, suits you…” she winks, and Oliver quickly snatches his hand away from mine and stretches, sitting away from me a little.

“She wouldn’t let me have my own cuddle so I had to share hers,” Oliver says, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tilly carefully takes the baby from me and makes her way back over to her husband where she curls up in his lap, laying Emily on his chest on her tummy, and she rests her face next to her. Luke wraps one arm tightly around his wife and places the other hand on his baby’s darling head before he kisses Tilly’s. It’s the most beautifully loving picture one could see. It’s almost a tear jerker; so romantic.

Oliver puts his arm back around my shoulder and tugs me against him until I’m leaning into him fully. “We should probably think of making a move soon, if everyone falls into a deep sleep now, we’ll never want to get up and make our way back,” he says quietly.

“Mmm hmm…” I respond sleepily, “just give everyone five more minutes.”

“Mmm…” he agrees, rubbing his jaw against my hair in a grooming fashion, like we’re cats or something, and he sighs loudly as his body fully relaxes against me. We must be fast asleep in a few seconds, comfortable, warm and together. I just mustn’t forget my surroundings as I’m sleeping in his embrace. I must not.

~~~~~~~

“Olly, Clare…” Bea whispers as she shakes my knee, waking me, “
wake up, you two, we should leave now.”

I frown as I look at her, I was so deep in sleep and involved in a vivid dream about a confrontation between Bea and Oliver and I about our recent secret nuptials. Dream-Bea was so angry
at us, she was hurt and extremely cross that we’d been so deceptive.
Oh god, I hope that’s not how it’s going to be in real life…

“Come on,
wakey, wakey. It’s nearly midnight.”