Yawning, I peer over the edge of the duvet, which in my sleep I’d pulled right up over my nose. He glances towards me, enquiry in his eyes.
‘How are you feeling? And points are deducted if you say fine.’
‘I didn’t know I had any points. My shoulder is feeling better. Still sore,’ I add as his eyes narrow.’ I sit up to prove my point, the duvet falling away and then I’m aware that my nipples, objecting to being removed from my cosy nest, have hardened into stiff points beneath the soft, thin fabric of his T-shirt, which I am now wearing properly. ‘What time is it?’ I ask, gathering up the duvet to cover myself.
I needn’t have bothered, he’s seen them and he takes more than a second to look up at my face, not doing a very good job of hiding his smile or the sudden flare of interest in his eyes, even though he manages to say quite deadpan, ‘It’s about two in the afternoon. You must be hungry.’
‘Mm, a little.’ I’m horribly conscious that that my nipples are tingling, hardening further, demonstrating a different kind of hunger altogether.
Shit, I remember his mouth on them, the hot wet heat of his mouth, him sucking and licking with lazy, arrogant swipes of his tongue, holding me firm and smirking whenever I writhed beneath begging him for more.
‘In fact, do you know what, I’m starving,’ I say in a desperate bid to defuse the growing tension coiling through my body. I fling back the covers and make a grab for the big sweatshirt in my rucksack, hastily tugging it on, grateful that I can use my right arm again, even though it’s still a little tender.
‘This is a lovely room,’ I say, looking around as if I’m noticing it for the first time. Actually, until now, I hadn’t noticed how amazing this room is. Above me is the apex of a sloping ceiling, which ends with a floor-to-ceiling triangular window opposite the end of the bed. Even though the rain is still coming down in horizontal sheets, which makes me appreciate the cosy bed even more, I can see that the view is usually spectacular.
‘This place is stunning,’ says Tom, thankfully following my lead and ignoring the buzz of chemistry in the air. ‘Someone’s spent a lot of money on it and the good news is, according to the booking sheets downstairs in the hall, it’s available this week, so we’ve got it all to ourselves.’
‘That’s good news?’
‘In that no one’s going to turf us out.’
‘See what you mean.’
‘If I had my credit card and a phone, I’d book it. Would that make you feel better?’ asks Tom.
‘Yes, it would.’
‘When we get back, I’ll contact them and explain and pay.’
I stare at him. ‘That’s very honest of you.’
‘It’s the right thing to do. Besides I think they must be pretty decent people; they obviously want their guests to have all mod cons. You should see the living room, it’s got an amazing panoramic view. They’ve even got binoculars. A wood-burning stove. A decent sized TV and Bose sound system.’
‘As far as I’m concerned, this bed alone is one of the seven wonders of the world. It’s so comfortable.’
‘After two nights in the great outdoors, anything is going to be comfortable,’ says Tom. ‘I’ll go make you something to eat.’ He holds up a hand before I can say a word. ‘Just enjoy being looked after.’
I give him a grudging smile. ‘Am I really that difficult?’
‘No, you’re not. But you are allowed time off for good behaviour and bad accidents. It’s a miracle you didn’t break anything.’
‘Mmm,’ I say rubbing gently at the bruised tissues around my shoulder joint.
‘Tom!’ I call as he’s about to leave. I feel a need to reassure him that I’m not going to hold him back. ‘We’ll just rest up tonight and then get back on the road tomorrow.’
He comes back and sits on the edge of the bed. ‘We’re not going anywhere tomorrow. A day’s rest will do us both the power of good. I’ve looked it up on the map and as the crow flies we’re only twelve kilometres from the motorway. If we leave early on Saturday morning, we can be at the slip road by ten and hitch a ride. There’s bound to be someone heading South, if not all the way to London. We could be there by teatime and the deadline is eight p.m. That’s achievable.’
‘But more realistic if we leave tomorrow,’ I persist.
I can see him swallow but then he shakes his head. ‘You heard the doctor. A day’s rest, give your leg a chance to heal.’
I sigh. My leg is throbbing at the moment, pulsing with pain. I’d only slow him down and the thought of walking for any length of time fills me with anxiety anyway. I don’t want to let him down.
‘Okay, but we leave really early on Saturday.’
‘Deal,’ he says.
Tom returns a little while later with a tray with a plate of toast and jam, the opened pack of digestives and a mug of pasta, chicken and sweetcorn. ‘Those packs really aren’t too bad.’
‘I get them from Aldi. Cheap and cheerful.’
‘What and pack them as a midnight snack in case you get hungry?’ He’s teasing but he has no idea how close to the truth he is.
‘Thank you, this looks lovely.’ It’s the first time I’ve ever had a tray in bed and it’s wonderfully decadent. I feel like I’m a film star staying in a swanky hotel with room service.
He gives me an odd look as if I’m being sarcastic or something.
‘How’s that leg? I ought to wash it with saline solution like Annette suggested. And I’m going to need some more dressings. We’ve used them all.’
‘Yes, Dr Dereborn,’ I say with resignation. I know he’s right.
He gives me a crooked grin. ‘I’ve always wanted to play doctors and nurses.’
I laugh. ‘I bet you have. Do you want me to come back to the bathroom?’
‘Not really.’
