Look Back at Me (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 1)

Viola and Rhys on the Li-Lo (and the Floor)

Viola woke up in Rhys' bed and stretched lavishly, a sweet shudder running through her body, from her fisting and unfisting hands, to her toes she curled and uncurled with gusto. She stretched again, taking the shape of a seastar, and giggled. Perhaps, there was something to his whole idea of a flock of duvets and pillows inhabiting his bed. After the film the previous night, he'd left for the spare room, carrying two duvets and a heap of pillows with him - and she still felt like she'd spent the night surrounded by fluffy soft clouds. Viola looked at her phone. It was half past four, and she felt rested and full of energy. They had gone to bed around eleven, after all. She slid off the bed and went in search of her ex-husband. She wasn't repeating the same mistake: she was going to wake him up, say her goodbyes, and head back to the surgery. It would be a substantial walk, so she decided it would replace her jog. She'd been slacking recently, but she decided to be kind to herself and remember the events of the last few days, which surely could excuse her lack of obsessive working out.

The li-lo was utterly too short and narrow for him, and she shook her head at the ridiculous man. He should have chosen the sofa, she thought, approaching him. He slept on his stomach, one leg bent in its knee, she could see his hairy calf stick out from under the duvet. His long arm hung off the edge of the li-lo, knuckles touching the floor. His shoulder must be healing well, she thought, there was no tension in his position.

"Rhys," she called softly. "Rhys, it's morning, and I'm going to leave now, and I–"

"Sod off," he muttered from under the duvet, and Viola snorted.

"I bet you'll regret this when you're awake. Love, I'm going–"

"Sod off," he repeated and turned his head, facing away from her, burrowing under his covers.

She could only see the top of his head, with his curls sticking out of the cocoon of duvets he was packed into.

"Well, this went well," Viola said and chuckled. "Don't say I didn't try this time. And to think of it," she continued musing out loud, "I was worried about waking you–"

Suddenly, he jerked, flailed his right arm in the air, rolled on his back, and sharply sat up.

"Vi?"

Viola laughed, leaned forward, and ruffled his hair.

"Hey," she said, and he grinned sleepily.

"Hey," he answered and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. "What time is it?"

"Apparently too early for good manners," she said with a chuckle. "You just told me to sod off."

His jaw slacked. "I did what?!"

"Twice," Viola answered - and then cupped his face and planted a firm, heart-felt kiss on his lips.

He twitched in her grip, but recovered quickly, and his hands lay on her waist. Viola decided if she didn't want this to go out of control, she needed to stop right now - and then she pushed forward, falling onto him with all her weight. He fell backwards, without stopping his enthusiastic kissing, and his arms wrapped around her tightly.

A few minutes later, she was disheveled, he'd bunched up her - his - tee, and she was squirming on top of him, greedily seeking more contact with a certain part of his anatomy.

"Vi, but we still–" he mumbled into her neck he was kissing. His tone was tortured. "It's the same aggro– We don't– Bugger it–"

Viola wiggled her hips especially enthusiastically, and he gave out a pained groan.

"I'm going to– right in my pants–" He continued coughing out raspy unfinished sentences, while she started jerking the hem of his tee up, trying to get to his - lovely, lovely - stomach. "Like I'm fourteen–" he muttered, and she looked up along his body and saw him squeeze his eyes shut.