‘Then that’s what you’ll have done.’
He shakes his head.
‘It’s another operation. Another six weeks in plaster. I haven’t got time …’
‘You’ll make time.’
He stares at me.
‘I’m not going back on crutches, not while Boyd’s around. If I need to deal with him, I want to be able to move.’
‘But you don’t need to deal with him. You said so yourself. You’ve got Bill’s people. You’ve got Foultons. Forget about Boyd and get yourself sorted.’
‘When the time’s right.’
I know him well enough to realise he won’t back down on this.
‘Fair enough, but as soon as Boyd’s out of the picture, you’re having that operation. And then if you’re still in pain, we’ll find ways to deal with it … together.’
He nods. His eyes soften.
‘The pills are kicking in.’
‘Good.’ And I know something else that might help. ‘Because we’re having a bath.’
I step back.
‘But you just had a shower.’
‘And you’ve been sweating your bollocks off all morning. I want you cleaned up before we go in for more.’
‘But …’
‘No arguing. We’re bath virgins, Foster. It’s about time we had a soak.’
I gaze in despair at the mountain of unruly suds obscuring the huge, round, sunken tub. It’s been almost half an hour since I turned on the taps and it’s finally ready. At least I think it is. After pouring in far too much expensive hotel bubble bath, I’m now presented with something that looks like an over-the-top Ibiza foam party. I’ve no idea where the water level is.
‘We’re not going to be able to see each other in that,’ Dan remarks, curling an arm around my waist. ‘I could just take a quick shower and see you in the bedroom.’
I lean back against his chest.
‘Okay, so I misjudged the bubbles.’
‘No shit?’
‘Get your clothes off and stop complaining. It’ll be romantic. Erotic … probably.’
I break his grip and move away, making it perfectly clear I mean business. With a reluctant shrug, he removes his T-shirt and throws it onto a vanity unit. The joggers follow quickly. I take a moment to ogle his body in all its naked glory. Resisting a sudden urge to drag him back to the bedroom, I pull the shirt over my head and let it fall to the floor.
‘Now, that’s erotic.’ Coming towards me, he wraps me in his arms, brings a hand to my buttocks and presses me in against his crotch.
‘In the tub,’ I order, determined to see this through. ‘Now.’
As soon as I’m released, I navigate a path down the marble steps into the water, relieved that at least I’ve managed to get the temperature right. Dropping to my knees, I shuffle to the far end and position myself on a ledge. Past the mountain range of suds, I can just about see Dan. He’s still standing at the side.
‘What’s the matter?’ I laugh. ‘Haven’t you ever taken a bath?’ Immediately, I curse myself for my own stupidity. That’s not something you ask of a person who was banned from the family bathroom as a child.
‘Of course I have.’ He steps into the water, hesitantly. ‘A few years ago. I’ve just never taken a bath in a giant, deformed meringue.’ He shrugs. ‘I’m a shower man really. Quick and efficient.’
‘Well, I’m going to transform you into a bath man. What do you think about that?’
‘Try your best.’
Picking up on my reference to our first walk together, he smiles as he lowers himself into the water, immediately disappearing behind a wall of foam.
‘Maya,’ he calls. ‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes,’ I call back. ‘Follow the sound of my voice.’
‘I think I’m going snow blind.’
‘Stay with me. You can do it.’
The water surges, bubbles move and part, and there he is, edging towards me on his knees, complete with a soapy beard.
I snigger.
‘Hello Santa.’
‘Hello.’ Deepening his voice, he widens his eyes. ‘Have you been a good girl this year?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
He moves up close, slipping a hand around my back and pulling me onto his lap. A tidal wave of bubbles escape the bath.
‘Oh dear, what have you been up to?’
‘Kinky sex. Lots of it,’ I announce proudly. ‘I’ve even had anal.’
‘Naughty.’ He taps the end of my nose. ‘No presents for you.’
The arms tighten, and I’m drawn in for a kiss, bubbles tickling at my chin. When he’s done, he piles foam on top of my head.
‘There you go. A crown for my queen.’ He pecks me on the lips.
I can’t help but laugh, content that he’s relaxing, forgetting the worries, having fun.
‘Any sign of the soap?’
I shake my head. ‘I last saw it about half an hour ago. I could go in search.’
His grip tightens.
‘No way. We might never find each other again.’ He sweeps a hand through the water. ‘Bingo.’ He holds up a sponge. ‘This’ll do. Let’s clean you up, you filthy woman.’
Before I can remind him I’ve already showered this morning, I’m swept around, temporarily disorientated by a haze of white foam and swishing of water. Within seconds, I find myself back on his lap. Only this time, he’s settled onto the ledge, legs stretched out, and I’m held in place against his chest, facing away from him. His left hand comes to my inner thigh, urging my legs apart before it clamps back across my stomach. Resting his chin on my shoulder, he sets about sliding the sponge along my thighs, firmly here, softly there, lulling me into a world of pleasure and taking full control of the situation.
‘So,’ he murmurs into my ear. ‘Where do you want to get married?’
I try to
