Losing My Identity by Fiona Cameron

Author:Fiona Cameron [Cameron, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780993331473
Publisher: Flying Swan Press
Published: 2020-03-19T18:30:00+00:00

‘The en suite’s your territory,’ Hari said, as they reached the bedroom. ‘I’ll use the other bathroom.’

On the tiled shelf, a pink-handled toothbrush, a tube of Aesop toothpaste, and a bottle of Korres Fig shower gel, in a basket with a pink ribbon bow on the handle. Folded on the rail, a couple of fluffy dusky pink towels, obviously new, but freshly laundered. Just for a second, it felt creepy. Had he opened the bathroom cupboards at her place, to spy on her? Then she realised how stupid she was being. He’d been to the cottage. He’d seen what she’d assembled in its only bathroom. He was merely being considerate. She decided to borrow the towelling robe hanging on the door.

Hari was already in bed when she went back through. He turned back the covers to welcome her. Fresh sheets too!

‘You showered?’

‘I did.’ With my head at the most awkward angle, because the one thing you forgot, my dear, was a shower-cap. ‘I was all sweaty.’

He grinned. ‘I’m hoping I might get you a little sweaty again shortly.’

‘You’d planned on getting me back here tonight, hadn’t you?’

‘A boy can always hope. I bought all the kit for you ages ago. The day after you told me pink’s your favourite colour.’

Fibber!

He drew her down beside him.

His lips brushed against her ear. ‘Is there anywhere you don’t like to be touched?’

‘I don’t know.’

He giggled, although she could tell that was the last thing he wanted to do.

‘Don’t laugh at me.’

‘I’m not. I’m laughing at my own crassness. You’re a talented, competent woman, but you’re also very innocent about some things. I need to be more careful and tactful.’

Not so innocent as you imagine, brother. Just not accustomed to a man who gives a flying fish about what I like and what I don’t. I’m used to selfish, careless men. And what was acceptable when Sam and I were in our twenties turned out not to be, once I grew up…

‘No, you don’t. I’m not a child.’

Then those clever, slender-fingered, expert hands were all over her. This man’s an anatomist. I don’t have to draw him a map…

‘Stop fighting it,’ he murmured. ‘I want you to be ready, so I won’t hurt you.’

‘I’m a bit nervous. It’s a while since I’ve been with anyone.’

‘It’s been a while for me too.’

Leila suspected his ‘while’ and hers came from separate dictionaries. Possibly separate languages.

But she was too far-gone to start linguistic analysis. Hari was a mixture of strait-laced and incredibly sensual that drove her to distraction. And distracted her. What brought her back to earth was the noise of the bedhead – it was a wooden one, heavily-carved – beating a tattoo against the wall. And he clearly wasn’t a man to take his pleasures quietly. The whole building would be able to tell what they were doing. Jeez! I hope no one thinks it’s Hari banging on the wall and shouting for help, and calls the fire brigade! It was her turn to stifle the urge to giggle.

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