Paint Me Anew (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 2)

Night Starts

Three weeks or so later...

Anya took a shower and climbed in her bed with yet another book on the e-business component of hospitality management when her phone beeped. The message was from Klaus, asking her to drop by his bedroom - but obviously, only if she wanted to and hadn't gone to bed yet. Anya shoved her book onto the bedside table, pushed her feet into her slippers, and walked out of her room.

She knocked, and he let her in. He'd clearly just taken a shower as well, and the ends of his ginger curls were wet. Anya habitually pushed her desire to the back of her mind - to touch him, to run her fingers through his hair, to press into him head to toe - and slightly rose on her tiptoes to meet his restrained kiss.

"Ready for tomorrow?" he asked and pulled her after him, his hand loosely wrapped around her fingers.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, and she joined him.

"Yeah." She nodded. "Although, according to Snezha, nothing can prepare you for a Fleckney wedding."

He chuckled softly. "Especially if the Holyoakes are involved." He leaned in and kissed her cheekbone. "I can't wait to see your dress," he whispered into her ear.

"It's nothing special," she muttered, flustered by his proximity. It felt as if she'd forgotten the effect he had on her. "Yola said–" She stumbled because his lips brushed at her skin again. "She said it was a bit boring." Anya censored Yola's griping and accusations of 'hiding an arse to die for.' "But it matches your Cambridge blue tie."

"How do you know what colour my tie is?"

She couldn't see but she could just imagine that little smirk that, no doubt, curled up one corner of his mouth.

"Olofsson told me." Anya's voice wavered. "Klaus?"

He hummed questioningly and stuck his nose behind her ear.

"Why did you ask me to come?"

She felt him nuzzle her hair. Goosebumps ran down the back of her neck.

"I wanted to offer you to stay the night," he said.

His breath, dancing on the side of her throat, made her jolt. She could still think somewhat clearly, because, so far, he kept his hands to himself.

"Why now?" she muttered.

It had been three weeks since his operation. They'd been sleeping in different rooms. At the beginning she'd tried to offer to stay in his - formerly almost their - bedroom on a cot, but he firmly refused. A nurse had been staying with him for a while. Anya understood - Klaus didn't want her to see the reality of him being bedridden, with IVs sticking out of him, wearing a brace, getting used to new medication with all possible side effects - and she respected his choice. It didn't make the sense of emptiness and her craving any less excruciating.

"You probably should rest before tomorrow," she added and squeezed her eyes tightly. Resist the temptation, Anya. God, he smells nice. And he's so warm. She pressed her knees together. The tug of arousal in her lower stomach was sharp and painful. "It's going to be a long day," she rasped out.

"That's why I'm asking you to stay," he whispered, and his palm heavily lay on her knee. "I'm nervous about tomorrow." His lips slid along the muscle between her shoulder and her neck. "And I've missed you. I'm–" He chuckled again and rubbed her thigh with his thumb. "–starved for Anna."

She stared at him askance - admittedly, because she didn't want to turn her head since it would mean he'd stop kissing her neck. He peeked at her, also sideways, his eyelashes half-lowered, in an exaggerated, flirtatious gesture.