Read Online Love: Classified by Sally-Ann Jones - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sally-Ann Jones
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a fight, instead of being such a pushover?
Barney chose that moment to answer my question. The big cat launched himself joyously into Magnus’ lap and was rewarded with a gentle stroke. And I knew Jake and Josie liked him too. He’d pretty much charmed the bedsocks off the old lady, sick as she was.
Perhaps Magnus was playing with me, like a cat with a mouse. But I didn’t have the will or the energy to struggle against him. Not tonight.
He must have read surrender in my eyes because his face lit up as he said, “See you first thing.”
Crushed as I was, I hoped he’d be early.
This time, he was as good as his word. He was at my place at seven o’clock with three bulging brown paper bags stamped with the name of Jake’s deli. I was already up, having showered and dressed in new black linen trousers under a loose-fitting hot pink blouse. I’d never worn pink or red with my hair colour, but I was tired of being constrained by silly rules, even if they were my own. I also put on the emerald earrings. I thought I detected a luminous glow to my skin when I gave myself a final check in the mirror, but it might have been wishful thinking. Peta was always telling me, I reminded myself to give myself a much-needed confidence boost, that I looked ten years younger than most women my age because out of shame for my elephantine body I’d never sunbathed like the rest of our generation.
“Wow!” he said when I opened the door to him.
“Ditto,” I said, sure I was the only one being honest.
He looked amazing. In his old jeans and faded tee-shirt he looked every bit as good as he had in the Versace suit of the day before. And more believable. He didn’t seem the type to be comfortable in expensive clothes.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, flourishing a bunch of sunflowers.
“Always!”
“Come on then, let’s cook.”
“I thought you were a vegetarian,” I said as I saw what he was unloading onto the bench-top.
“It was a white lie, just to get invited inside your house.”
In no time we’d concocted a feast and laid it out on the patio table under the grape vine. There was pineapple, orange and passionfruit frappe; dill potato cakes with smoked salmon; gruyere, leek and bacon tart; Danish pastries bursting with vanilla custard and summer fruits, all washed down with champagne and café au lait.
A cheeky will y wagtail, knowing Barney was no threat, hopped onto the edge of the table, his head on one side inquisitively and pretty soon Magnus had him eating out of his fingers. I was impressed but didn’t show it. I was eating out of his hands, too. I tried not to watch him devour our breakfast because it was making him fall under his spell even more. He loved food and I loved that. He savoured every flavor, every texture, making appreciative noises. His fingers, long and elegant, caressed each mouthful before he slid it between those sensual, full lips. I glimpsed his tongue, saw the Magnus’s apple tilt as he swallowed. Even lifting a small piece of food made the biceps flex and bulge and I could see that he was very strong, though naturally so, unlike a body-builder. He was so close I could smell his clean odour, untainted by after-shave. And I admired the bronze sheen that the early sunshine was coaxing from his tanned skin and newly washed hair. My hunger for him, my greed for him, translated into my usual appetite for food and I matched his consumption, mouthful by mouthful. No delicate refusals from me. I knew he was watching me, probably disgusted, but I didn’t have the willpower to deny myself. If I couldn’t have him – and I wanted to taste all of him – then I’d damn well eat my fill. I hadn’t eaten a single thing the day before and I was going to make up for it.
When there were only a few crumbs let, he pushed aside the platters, glasses and
Barney chose that moment to answer my question. The big cat launched himself joyously into Magnus’ lap and was rewarded with a gentle stroke. And I knew Jake and Josie liked him too. He’d pretty much charmed the bedsocks off the old lady, sick as she was.
Perhaps Magnus was playing with me, like a cat with a mouse. But I didn’t have the will or the energy to struggle against him. Not tonight.
He must have read surrender in my eyes because his face lit up as he said, “See you first thing.”
Crushed as I was, I hoped he’d be early.
This time, he was as good as his word. He was at my place at seven o’clock with three bulging brown paper bags stamped with the name of Jake’s deli. I was already up, having showered and dressed in new black linen trousers under a loose-fitting hot pink blouse. I’d never worn pink or red with my hair colour, but I was tired of being constrained by silly rules, even if they were my own. I also put on the emerald earrings. I thought I detected a luminous glow to my skin when I gave myself a final check in the mirror, but it might have been wishful thinking. Peta was always telling me, I reminded myself to give myself a much-needed confidence boost, that I looked ten years younger than most women my age because out of shame for my elephantine body I’d never sunbathed like the rest of our generation.
“Wow!” he said when I opened the door to him.
“Ditto,” I said, sure I was the only one being honest.
He looked amazing. In his old jeans and faded tee-shirt he looked every bit as good as he had in the Versace suit of the day before. And more believable. He didn’t seem the type to be comfortable in expensive clothes.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, flourishing a bunch of sunflowers.
“Always!”
“Come on then, let’s cook.”
“I thought you were a vegetarian,” I said as I saw what he was unloading onto the bench-top.
“It was a white lie, just to get invited inside your house.”
In no time we’d concocted a feast and laid it out on the patio table under the grape vine. There was pineapple, orange and passionfruit frappe; dill potato cakes with smoked salmon; gruyere, leek and bacon tart; Danish pastries bursting with vanilla custard and summer fruits, all washed down with champagne and café au lait.
A cheeky will y wagtail, knowing Barney was no threat, hopped onto the edge of the table, his head on one side inquisitively and pretty soon Magnus had him eating out of his fingers. I was impressed but didn’t show it. I was eating out of his hands, too. I tried not to watch him devour our breakfast because it was making him fall under his spell even more. He loved food and I loved that. He savoured every flavor, every texture, making appreciative noises. His fingers, long and elegant, caressed each mouthful before he slid it between those sensual, full lips. I glimpsed his tongue, saw the Magnus’s apple tilt as he swallowed. Even lifting a small piece of food made the biceps flex and bulge and I could see that he was very strong, though naturally so, unlike a body-builder. He was so close I could smell his clean odour, untainted by after-shave. And I admired the bronze sheen that the early sunshine was coaxing from his tanned skin and newly washed hair. My hunger for him, my greed for him, translated into my usual appetite for food and I matched his consumption, mouthful by mouthful. No delicate refusals from me. I knew he was watching me, probably disgusted, but I didn’t have the willpower to deny myself. If I couldn’t have him – and I wanted to taste all of him – then I’d damn well eat my fill. I hadn’t eaten a single thing the day before and I was going to make up for it.
When there were only a few crumbs let, he pushed aside the platters, glasses and
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