2. Saskia

Chapter 2

Saskia

Upstairs, I change out of my comfy clothes and into the outfit I’ve had planned for his arrival. Brand new lingerie underneath a black leather skirt, and a grey cashmere wrap top that makes my boobs the highlight of the outfit.

I’m a very tactile person. My favourite clothes, much like my favourite artworks, have texture and contrast. The juxtaposition of smooth leather and soft cashmere has me wanting to rub my hands all over myself.

Hopefully that means Henry won’t be able to keep his hands to himself either. I want him to want me so much he can’t bear it.

Shoes are forbidden in the cottage since I had the carpets replaced, so I wear fluffy pink slippers instead. The ensemble has a unique vibe, but with any luck, I won’t be wearing any of it for long.

In the bathroom I reapply my lipstick, blot it with a tissue, and finish off the look with a spritz of Tom Ford perfume. The name, Lost Cherry , makes me blush. What a fitting scent for us two.

Finally, while pacing between the kitchen and living room, I see headlights on the approach. The only other vehicles that come along this road are farm traffic and they’re done for the day, so I know it must be him. I check my hair in the mirror by the door, take a deep breath and adjust my top, positioning it delicately on my shoulders so it looks like it could slip down at any second. I give the girls one last nudge together in my bra, and I’m ready for my man.

My heart rate ratchets up as I contemplate how soon is too soon to open the door. I don’t want to seem desperate even though every fibre of my body is thrumming with need.

I open just in time to see him parking on the driveway area at the end of the small front garden, and he hops out, his smile clear even in the darkness.

“Good evening, Mr Stone,” I call out.

“Miss Hatton,” he says with a smile, slamming the car door and rushing up the path to the house. I haven't been Miss Hatton for a long time, but that’s what he used to call me back when we first met.

I welcome him with open arms, and his wrap tight around me, crushing me against his chest. I feel the warmth of him against my cheek, breathe in the scent of his cologne, and everything softens when he sighs into my hair, lifting me onto my tiptoes.

“There’s my girl.”

I’m so happy I could cry.

He sets me back down and pulls away to get a proper look at my face. His kiss lands on the corner of my mouth where my smile is wide. It’s too close to be a mistake. It’s a promise of what’s coming.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he says, his gorgeous green eyes flitting back and forth between mine. It’s as if he’s staring into my soul, sweeping away my worries and replacing them with reassuring thoughts.

We’ll be OK. We’ll finally be OK.

I believe him. His expression is beautiful, the porch light illuminating both him and the soft flakes that drift in from the dark December sky.

“I’ve missed you too. Come in before you get cold.”

“It smells incredible in here,” he says, stepping further into the warmth. “The food, and you.”

This is what I’ve been longing for. Him. His words. The intimate familiarity we’ve lost in our time apart.

“The place looks great,” he says, looping one arm around my shoulder as he looks around the living room. It doesn’t take long since the front door opens straight into this room, as is common in these old cottages.

An original fireplace lines one wall, with comfy sofas positioned around it in an L-shape. Stacks of firewood are piled neatly in one alcove, and the other contains the television, completely out of proportion for such a small space, but perfect for snuggly movie marathons.

Behind the longest sofa is a dining area with a table and chairs, and past that is the door to the small kitchen that has everything I need to cook the kind of hearty, nourishing meals one craves in the middle of the countryside.

“You got a tree?”

“I did.” I smile against his side. He’s finally here. “Are you ready to eat?”

“Would you mind terribly if I took a quick shower?”

“Of course not. Everything’s ready. I just need to steam the greens.”

“Let me grab my bag from the car and I’ll be as fast as I can.” He opens the door to leave, then darts back towards me, taking my face in his big hands and dropping a kiss to my forehead. My cheeks mourn the loss of his warmth.

He comes back a few seconds later, locking the door behind him. He bypasses the living room to take the stairs to the upper level, grinning the whole time. In the kitchen, I turn on the hob and hover, enjoying the sounds of the house with two people in it.

Upstairs, two double bedrooms share a bathroom, and I can hear him singing to himself as he turns on the water. The cottage is small, but the perfect size for when I need to escape the craziness of life in London.

I bought it after I made my first million pound commission, a huge milestone for any art dealer. It captured my heart the moment I saw the exterior and immediately reminded me of the cottage where Cameron Diaz falls in love with Jude Law in The Holiday .

The interior left a lot to be desired, but after negotiating a decentprice for a cash purchase, I had plenty of money left to bring it up to my standards.

I’ve left the original wooden beams and window frames untouched, but painted the place off-white throughout, with cream carpets and soft furnishings. It’s completely different to our flat in London, where the theme is much more reflective of my taste in art, but that’s always been the point. The cottage is art itself. A place for peace and relaxation.

And fucking each other’s brains out without any neighbours to hear you scream.

Henry reappears wearing faded black jeans, slung low on his hips, and a tight ribbed top, with the sleeves pushed up his forearms.

“Better?”

“Reborn,” he says, shaking his damp, dark hair like a Labrador, then raking his fingers through it and pushing it back. The man has always been handsome, and he’s only getting better with age. My lips curl into a smile as I pour him a glass of wine, sliding it across the counter. His hand catches my wrist, and tugs me towards him until I land against his chest with a soft thud. “You look so good.”

He holds me close, one palm stroking up and down my back, the other tangling in my hair. I feel his touch everywhere, dancing through my nerves, lighting a fire inside me.

I’ve needed this so much. Needed him . Wanted him. Yearned for so long, and now finally he’s here, and all my Christmas wishes are about to come true.