On Top of Everything by Sarah-Kate Lynch

Author:Sarah-Kate Lynch [Sarah-Kate Lynch]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781775533672
Publisher: Random House New Zealand
Published: 2012-02-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘We’ve struck a bit of a problem,’ Will told me a few days later. Stanley was standing behind him, looking worried, which should have struck fear into my heart but didn’t.

Despite the generally serious atmosphere that lurked ominously in the hallway, I just could not focus on the problem, whatever it was. It was not foremost in my mind. It was far from it. Much closer, so close as to be taking up nearly all the available space, in fact, was Will himself. Yes, Will was on my mind. Completely and utterly. The thing is, I had dreamt about him. In a rather explicit fashion.

And as he stood there looking at me the dream, which I had until that moment forgotten, came back in a blinding rush and sort of tackled me, starting down near the floor and ending in my cheeks by way of a chronic blush.

In the dream he had come into my room and sat on the side of my bed and just smiled at me in the most patient, understanding, adoring fashion. Then he had pulled back the covers, slipped off my nightie (transformed for dreaming purposes from the usual T-shirt with the hole in one armpit to a saucy see-through Agent Provocateur-type thing) and run his hands down my body, like a blind man, feeling every bone and hollow and bump until I was totally exposed head to toe, naked and moaning with longing.

Then he had stood up, his clothes sort of dissolving into a puddle on the floor, and he had climbed into the bed next to me. He lay there, just stroking me — my breasts, my collarbone, my ribs, my hips — and then his fingers had slipped down below. He’d pulled me on top of him then and with his hands on my thighs he had guided us both to an extremely erotic and satisfactory ending.

Plus, the dream hadn’t ended there. Unlike in real life where sex is often followed by the immediately gentle snoring of one or other or both parties, Will and I had lain on our sides facing each other on the bed, holding hands. He had told me that he loved me, that he would always be there for me, that with him beside me I had nothing to fear and never would ever again.

In the dream, I had wanted to cry because I was so happy.

Now I wanted to cry again because it hadn’t really happened. As well as not having recently had sex, I had also not recently (cupcakes not included) had happiness. And now here was Will trying to explain to me what was going wrong with my tearooms-to-be and I was too busy wondering if it had been the cheesiest dream in the entire universe or the loveliest one to concentrate. I knew I should have been nodding or shaking my head or going ‘tut tut’ but instead I could only gaze blankly at the space just to Will’s left because I could not bring myself to look at him.

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