One Night With The Italian Doc. Kate Hardy
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want.
‘I’m going to go,’ Anton said. ‘I just wanted to clear the air.’
‘It doesn’t feel very clear,’ Louise said, because it was thick with sexual tension, a tension that had come to a head last night but had had no outlet for either of them.
‘You’re right, it doesn’t,’ Anton agreed. ‘You are such a flirt, Louise,’ he said, his mouth approaching hers.
‘I know.’ She smiled then asked a question as his lovely mouth approached. ‘If you were intending to just pop in to clear the air, why did you brush your teeth before you came in?’
‘I was hoping to clear the air but you have worn me down.’
They were far from worn down as their mouths finally met. It was supposed to break the tension but instead it upped it as, in the dark, Louise found out how lovely that sulky mouth could be.
The mixture of soft lips and rough stubble had her break on contact.
Anton had decided on one small kiss to chase away a wretched day but small was relative, Anton told himself as he slipped in his tongue and met the caress of hers, for it was still a small kiss if he compared it to the one he really wanted to give.
For Louise, it was bliss. She could not remember a kiss that had been nicer, and her hands moved up to his head and their kiss deepened from intimate to provocative. As he moved to remove her hands and halt things he changed his mind as his thumb grazed her breast. Anton heard the purr and the nudge of her body into his palm, like a cat demanding attention, and so he stroked her through the fabric, until for both of them he had to feel her.
Anton went to lift her top, just to get to her breast, but the heat pack slipped off and she willed his hand to change direction, her tongue urging him on as Anton obliged.
He could feel the ball of tension of her uterus as his hand slipped down instead of up, stroking her tense stomach as he kissed her more deeply.
Louise lifted her knees to the bliss and the sensation but then she peeled her mouth from his.
‘Anton …’
‘I know that you do,’ he said, not caring a bit. ‘What colour underwear?’ he asked, as he toyed with the lace.
‘Cream and green, with a red bow—it’s from the Mistletoe collection.’
She loved his moan in her mouth and the feel of his fingers creeping lower. His warm palm massaged low on her stomach as his finger hit the spot and Louise felt her face become red and hot as she kissed now his neck then his ears. One of his hands was behind her head, supporting it, while beneath the other she succumbed.
The tension hit and his mouth suckled hers as he stroked her through the deepest come of her life and then she felt the bliss abate as her stomach lay soft beneath his palm. Her intimate twitches stilled and Louise lay quiet for a moment.
‘Better?’ Anton asked.
‘Positively sedated.’
She lay in sated bliss, pain free for the first time today, and trying to tell herself it was just the sex she wanted as she moved her hand and stroked his thick erection.
‘Poor Anton,’ she said.
‘There have been way too many poor Antons of late,’ Anton said. ‘I’m going to go and you’re going to sleep and—’
‘We never discuss this again.’ Louise smiled. ‘Got it!’
How was she supposed to sleep after that? Louise thought as Anton made his way out.
It took about forty-seven seconds!
LOUISE AWOKE TO the sound of the domestic’s floor polisher in the hallway and the even happier sound of no pager, which meant nothing had happened with Emily and so she padded out to the ward.
‘How is she?’ Louise asked Evie.
‘Very good,’ Evie said. ‘She’s slept mostly through and her back ache has eased and the contractions have stopped.’ She looked at Louise, who was yawning. ‘Why don’t you go home?’
‘I’m going to have a shower and then I’ll see Emily over to her room before I do just that.’
‘Well, the royal suite is empty.’ Evie smiled as she used the name they all called it. ‘I’ll go and set it up.’
‘I’ll do that when I’ve had my shower,’ Louise said, smiling when she heard Anton’s voice.
‘Morning, Louise,’ Anton said, looking all the more handsome for not having shaven. ‘How did you sleep?’
‘Oh, I went out like a light,’ Louise answered. She headed off to the shower and had to wash with the disinfectant soap used for washing hands. Smelling like a bathroom cleaner commercial, she headed out to set up the room for Emily.
It was hardly a royal suite but it had its own loo and was more spacious than others and there was a trundle bed if Hugh wanted to stay. Louise checked the oxygen and suction and that there were pads and vomit bowels and suchlike.
Anton checked in on Emily and was very happy with her lack of progress and agreed that she could be moved.
‘Every day that you don’t go into labour is a good day,’ Anton said, as Louise helped her onto the bed. ‘For now you are on strict bed rest and that means bedpans.’
‘Okay.’ Emily nodded. She wasn’t going to argue if it meant her baby stayed put. ‘I feel much more positive today.’ She looked over at Louise. ‘You can go home now.’
‘I am,’ Louise said. ‘But you’re to text me with anything you want me to bring in for you. I can visit tonight or tomorrow. I’m off for two days now but—’
‘I’ll text you,’ Emily interrupted, because Louise lived by her phone and they texted each other most days anyway.
As they headed out—Anton to start his shift, Louise to commence her days off—he asked if he could have a word with her in his office.
‘Sure,’ Louise said.
She knew what was coming and immediately she broached it. ‘Don’t worry, I get that last night was an aberration.’ She saw him frown. ‘A one-off.’
Anton wasn’t so sure. He had no regrets about last night and he looked at the woman standing before him and wanted to get to know her some more, but before he did there was something that he first needed to know.
‘This referral, are you sure that now is the right time?’
‘Very sure,’ Louise said. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for close to a year.’
‘Okay …’ Anton said, because that alone was enough for him to ensure last night remained an aberration, although still he would like to give them a chance. ‘Why don’t you wait a while? Maybe we can—?’
‘Anton, I already have waited a while. I’m twenty-nine years old and for twenty-eight of those years I have wanted a baby. I didn’t just dress up my dollies and put them in a pram, Anton, I used to put them up my dress …’ Anton smiled as she carried on. ‘I’m not brilliant at relationships.’
‘Why would you say that?’
‘Oh, I’ve gathered quite a list of the reasons over the years.’ Louise started to tick off on her fingers. ‘I’m high maintenance, vain, obsessed with having a baby, inappropriate at times … I could go on but you get the drift. And, yes, I am all of those things and shall happily continue to be them. But, while relationships may not be my forte, I do know for a fact that I shall be a brilliant mum. So many women do it themselves these days.’
‘Even