Page 47 of The Scottish Island Inn

Sorrel gazed up at his chest, unintentionally biting her lip as she watched him strip. Goddamn, he is a beauty.

Sorrel knew Tam’s body. Or, she had known it, ten years ago. But ten years was a long time. Now, Sorrel could see that Tam’s chest and torso were wider, more heavily muscled; he had more hair on his chest now than he used to. She took a deep breath, taking all of him in with her eyes, greedily, wanting to stare at him, consume him with her gaze. His arms were also definitely bigger than they had been. An image of biting one of them came unbidden into Sorrel’s imagination.

‘Enjoying the view?’ he asked, his voice low, as he gazed down at her.

‘It’s all right.’ She grinned. ‘Maybe just… flex a bit?’

When they’d been a couple, Tam and Sorrel had always been playful like this. She’d always loved that their sex life was silly as well as sensual – she’d always felt that she could be herself with Tam. She was safe with him, and he’d never been anything but kind and gentle with her – apart from the heat of the moment, where they were both passionate.

But there was no guarantee that it would still be like that between them; as they joked gently with each other, she felt a glow of relief, safety and sweetness in her heart.

What a long time it had been since she’d felt that. Tam was the only person who had ever made her feel safe and seen in quite that way. A part of her felt sad at the thought.

Tam laughed, got up and took off his jeans, standing at the side of the bed.

‘I feel self-conscious,’ he chuckled. ‘You’re looking at me like you’re deciding which steak to buy.’

‘Well… maybe I’ve been hungry, too,’ Sorrel replied, shyly. She got up, on her knees, to the edge of the bed and rested her head against his chest. He took her in his strong arms, and she shivered in delight at the sensation of being held.

I wish I could just be held for the rest of my life, she thought. Just like this.

Tam reached for her chin and turned her face up to his.

‘We can’t have that,’ he murmured, and, slowly, laid her back on the bed.

TWENTY-FIVE

Sorrel woke up to the sound of birdsong and a shaft of sunlight that sliced between the curtains and onto her face. She blinked and sat up. She squinted at her phone, which she’d left on the bedside table, and then at Tam Blackwood in the bed beside her. It was 8.06 a.m.

Sorrel’s eyes widened. In her half-awake state, she’d forgotten the night before. She and Tam had… made love.

Tam snored lightly. She felt a rush of affection for him; for his body, so familiar and yet different, grown, more a man than he had been. He was heavier, stronger, but in a good way.

Sorrel put her phone back on the bedside table, intending to snuggle up to Tam’s muscular back, when the phone screen flashed and showed a text message.

Hey. Can we talk? We need to discuss the business, and me and you. I miss you. Simon x

She sat up, her heart beating fast.

The text message incensed Sorrel. I miss you.

Yeah, I bet you do, she thought, furiously. You miss your conscientious general manager, unpaid therapist and all-round life assistant.

She swore under her breath.

Tam rolled over and rubbed his eyes, then looked blearily up at her.

‘Hey. Good morning,’ he murmured, stroking her leg with his warm hand.

‘Hey,’ she said, distractedly.

‘You okay?’ Tam rolled onto his side and blinked, unfocused.

‘I’m fine.’ She kissed him softly for a moment. ‘Excuse me. Morning breath.’ She got up, took her phone to the bathroom, and sat on the edge of the bath. She didn’t want to talk to Simon now. Why did he get to decide when they had a conversation? Why did it have to be on his terms?

I’ll talk to you when I’m good and ready, she thought. And that is not now.

Is it a good time to call?