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57 - My Precious

What on earth had gotten into that gorgeous head of his? Wasn't he thinking straight? Or at all? He brought people with him to the gig, seriously? Okay, yes, the geeky part of me is incredibly thrilled to meet Peter Jackson and his partner Fran and the fact he's invited us to stay a few days with them after the tour finishes – in his hobbit house! – would normally render me mute with disbelief and excitement, but right now, this minute, I would give anything in the world for them to just go home and leave me alone with my fiancé.

Fiancé. The word has a nice ring to it. I giggled aloud at my own pun and Ben looked at me, quirking a brow and giving that little half smile that always, always drives me crazy. God, go home you kiwi genius and leave me to my man!

"Come on Pete, I think it's time we called it a night," Fran pulled at Peter's sleeve.

"It's only eleven," the Hobbitmaster responded, looking at his watch with a frown.

"Yes, and we've got a long drive ahead of us."

"What are you talking about Fran, it's only..." Fran gave him a small kick on the shin and sent a telling glance to both Ben and I. "Oh! Oh yes, you're right, we should go."

They told me once again how much they'd enjoyed the show and looked forward to seeing me again soon, said goodnight and finally – finally! – left.

"Thank God," I muttered.

Ben's chuckle tickled my ear. "I think Fran got the message from the look on your face, my love."

"What look?"

"The one you're giving me right now," he murmured. "The one that says I need to get you upstairs pretty damn quickly or there'll be scandalous photos in the world's press by morning." We'd been having a drink in the hotel bar but privacy was only a short lift ride away and that's where we headed, thankfully finding it otherwise unoccupied.

"Darling, I..." I began but he silenced me with a kiss so hot I felt my skeleton melt and turn to silly putty inside my skin. My knees gave way but luckily his hands at my waist kept me upright while my fingers raked through his curls. When he moaned into my mouth it sent roaring flames to awaken bits of me that had lain dormant for seven weeks – well, apart from that one Skype session...

"What were you going to say, love?" His voice was gruff and husky, his lips masterful as they devoured my neck.

Me? Say something? "Hgjmfpjgf," I managed, whimpering. The lift door opened and he picked me up and carried me to our room.

"You have the key card, sweetheart," Ben murmured.

What? Shit! Do I? "Didn't I give it to you?"

"No, love." His lips brushed mine ever so softly and I whimpered again, desperately needing so much more. Dammit, what the hell did I do with the key? "Is it in your purse?"

Purse. That's a good idea. Yes. I blinked at him, wondering where my purse could be.

He set me down on my feet gently and with a smirk on his face that had me drooling, took my purse from where it was clutched tightly in my hand, opened it and found the key card. Two seconds later he kicked the door shut behind us and pushed me up against it, reprising the kiss from the lift as I struggled to think coherently.

Oh God, he's even better at kissing than I remember, almost as if he's been practising. Maybe he's been filming love scenes? No, silly, he's been Smaug, not Christopher Tietjens, and he certainly wouldn't have been kissing Bilbo Baggins. Although, that would give the 'Johnlock' shippers something to get excited about.

When we came up for air, panting as if we'd run a marathon, he threw off his jacket and yanked at his tie as I reached around to my zip. "Fuck! It's stuck!"

"Rip it," he said, kicking his shoes to the other side of the room and tearing at his socks.

"I love this dress."

His hands held my face as he kissed me, hard, eyes smouldering as he growled in my ear, "Rip. It. Off."

Caveman Ben. Oh God. I'm done.

---

"What do you want?"

"You."

"To eat, love." Ben had picked up the phone to dial room service.

"Oh." Still, I got a firm kiss in spite of my error. Score. "Um, I don't know – what are you having?"

"You," he grinned cheekily.

"No stealing my lines, Snortlebatch." Another lovely kiss. Oh, I am a lucky, lucky woman. "I'll have fruit and muesli please and the most humungous cup of coffee they can find."

Ed and entourage were flying to Auckland today but as our gig wasn't until tomorrow night, I'd arranged to stay the extra day here with Ben and fly up tomorrow. Auckland was our last concert of the tour; after that I would come back here until Ben had completed his Smaug duties and we would fly home together to London. He had arranged a day off today so we could spend it together and as far as I was concerned there was absolutely no need for us to leave this room; anything we needed other than each other could be delivered to our door.

I got up and pulled on a robe, opening the curtains to look at the view over the city and harbour. Arms came and wrapped around my middle as a chin rested on my head; I sighed, utterly content, as the heat from his body warmed me from top to toe.

"When are you going to make an honest man out of me, Miss de Luca?" I turned to face him but a knock at the door heralded the arrival of our breakfast before I could answer. "Don't make me wait too long," he told me with a kiss before going to let room service in. "I want you as my wife sooner rather than later."

Me too, Cumbers, me too. Trouble was, my schedule was beginning to look almost as busy as his, for the rest of this year, anyway. As we ate we discussed what kind of wedding we each wanted, relieved that we agreed on a small, intimate ceremony with family and close friends.

"Do I have to do anything special for us to be married in a Catholic church?" he asked.

"Actually, Ben, I don't want to be married in the Catholic Church." He looked rather nonplussed, so I explained. "They don't make you become a Catholic any more, though we'd have to get permission from the Bishop, but if we marry in my church I would have to promise to uphold my faith and bring our...children up as Catholics." Our children. Oh God. "And I don't want to do that."

Little miniature Bens running around underfoot...oh, Mother of Mercy. Keep it together Cara.

"Sweetheart, are you sure?"

I nodded. "I want them to decide for themselves when they're old enough to understand and whether they choose to adopt a particular belief or not, it doesn't matter. If you're happy with that, I mean...I guess you should have a say in it too," I smiled, still seeing tiny Cumbers kids in my head.

"It sounds perfect." He put down his coffee cup and came closer. "You're perfect and I love you so much." Hands began loosening the belt of my robe. "How many children would you like?"

Oh hell. "Umm, three or four?" I hazarded a guess. "But I'm open to other offers."

A wicked smile lit his face as he pulled me to him, sliding his hands inside my robe. "Well then, perhaps we should get a little more practise at what makes babies until we're ready to do it for real."

Good plan. Count me in.