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THE FIFTEENTH pt3
"You didn't answer my calls." Taylor's voice startles me, and I turn to see him standing beside me. I didn't even hear him walk up, but it is clear from the expression in his eyes he is worried.
"I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't hear my phone ring. Truthfully, I have been kind of on another planet." With a sigh, he comes and sits down next to me. I can tell from his body language he is angry but trying to suppress it. Wordlessly I pass him over Nonna's letter. He sits still for several minutes as he reads, and then he turns to me. "She left you a bakery?" Taylor asks, the incredulity apparent in his voice.
"Um, yup." I start to giggle. The giggle turns to laughter, which turns to great, big hiccupping sobs. I am a mess. I miss my Nonna so much, and the thought that she has the confidence in me to have done something so crazy—yes, crazy—enough as buy me a bakery means that I am torn between excitement and terror.
Taylor enfolds me in his arms.Related chapters
Thirty Days THE SIXTEENTH
The daylight filtering through the skylights wakes me, and I scrabble around for my phone on the bedside table in an attempt to see what time it is. A heavy arm traps me and pulls me back as Taylor buries his face in my neck, nibbling on my ear. I can feel Taylor's erection pushing into my back as his fingers trace a lazy pattern along my inner thighs. I push my hips back, grinding into Taylor's crotch, and I hear him chuckle softly. He pulls my leg back across his thigh, giving him access to run his fingers through my wet folds. He dips his fingers inside of me, pulling and stretching me open. I moan quietly, clutching at the sheets with tight fists. I hear the rip of foil, and then he is pushing inside of me, filling me to the hilt. The angle of Taylor's cock rubs persistently, sending sparks through my abdomen. I feel my orgasm building, a slow-burning fire in my belly. The waves of pleasure are drawn out as Taylor continues to rock his hips gently, his dexterous fingers keeping me
Thirty Days THE SIXTEENTH pt2
It is dark when we finally slump onto the sofa, and I grumble to Taylor that I am never going to take a walk around London again if that is his idea of a gentle stroll. He throws a cushion at me in retaliation, and soon we are wrestling each other, finding each other's ticklish spots."Enough. Truce!" I finally gasp when I can no longer take any more. With a grin, knowing he has won, Taylor offers a hand to help me up. I take it cautiously, expecting another round of tickling, but instead, he pulls me into his arms and lowers his mouth to mine. His teasing nips pull at my lower lip, and when I open up, he slides his tongue in. I moan into his mouth as he caresses me, his hands mirroring those actions of his tongue. He cups my butt with his hands and pulls me in tight, and I can feel the ridge of his erection growing through his jeans, as he lets out a low growl.It gives me a thrill to know that I can affect Taylor like this. All my life I have felt dowdy and, while not ugly, not beau
Thirty Days THE SEVENTEENTH
I am standing in the beautiful orangery that is the focal point of Taylor’s grandmother’s house, feeling like a complete outsider. Granted, everyone has been perfectly charming, but I can feel the question marks in their eyes burning holes into my back. “Ignore them. They are a complete waste of space.” A charming voice startles me as a slim arm slips through mine. I turn my head to find myself staring into a pair of dark chocolate eyes so similar to Taylor’s that I can only conclude that they belong to his little sister. “Nicola?” I ask, the tremble in my voice evident. Taylor went off to get a drink five minutes ago, and I have been feeling exposed ever since. Just having Nicola by my side instantly relaxes me, and I offer her a grateful smile for rescuing me. “Yup, the baby sister. And you are Abby.” The last bit is not a question, but a statement. “I am so glad to finally meet you. Taylor has told me so much about you.” My curiosity is piqued at the excitement in Nicola’s voice
Thirty Days THE SEVENTEENTH pt2
The rest of the afternoon flies by as I get to know Nicola better and am introduced to a number of cousins, aunts and uncles whose names I forget almost instantly. Like Genevieve, they are all very welcoming, and I am grateful that there is none of the hostility that I experienced with Taylor’s parents. Richard’s absence has been noted, and a few people question his whereabouts, but I am simply grateful that he is not there. The idea of seeing him again makes my skin crawl. The party is winding down, and I excuse myself to use the toilet before we leave. As I make my way to the guest cloakroom, I take in the beautiful surroundings that is Genevieve’s home. Although completely different in personality from Nonna’s, I get the same sense of calm and comfort that I always used to get when I visited her flat. The walls are covered in pictures of family, including more recent ones of Taylor and Nicola in some exotic destination, which I can only suppose is from one of his sourcing trips to
Thirty Days THE EIGHTEENTH
I wake up alone, which is not unusual, but the feeling of dread that I fell asleep with has only intensified after a restless night of vivid dreams. The apartment feels empty, almost musty, in Taylor’s absence, and there is something else I just can’t pin down. A sadness that seems to have seeped into the walls. My phone tells me that eight o’clock is fast approaching, and I need to get my butt out of bed soon or I am going to be late for work. My head is filled with the memories of Genevieve’s party and my confrontation with Richard, which I have yet to tell Taylor about. I sigh out loud and promise myself that I will bring it up with Taylor as soon as I see him; if I don’t tell him, I can’t think what the consequences will be. Despite the warmth of the apartment, I feel chilled to the bone and find myself dressing accordingly, wrapping up in some dark-grey cord skinny jeans and a black cashmere cowl neck jumper over a grey silk long-sleeve T-shirt. The choice of colours reflects m
Thirty Days THE EIGHTEENTH pt2
I make it as far as the ladies’ toilets before I am overcome by my emotions. I lock myself in a stall and let the tears course down, doing my best to remain silent. After a few minutes, I hear the bathroom door open and footsteps approach as I hold my breath, hoping no one will notice me in here. “Abby, I know you are in here,” Taylor’s voice rings out, and I shrink back, knowing that talking to Taylor now is the last thing I need. “Abby, please…talk to me…” His voice, while not pleading, is not as harsh as it was in the meeting. “What do you want, Taylor?” I can’t help the bitterness that oozes out. “You couldn’t have given me some warning about this, like—I don’t know—last night? I can’t help but think there is more going on than simply a change in company direction.” Taylor lets out a sigh, and I hold my breath as I wait for his response. When he finally speaks, his voice is stiff, as if he is trying to hold back. “Look, Abby, all this, you and me, it is clear to me now that i
Thirty Days THE NINETEENTH
I raise myself off the cold floor to find my limbs stiff and aching, mirroring the state of my heart. The sun is only just rising, so I make myself get in the shower in an attempt to soap away some of the tension in my shoulders. The warm water is soothing, and part of me wishes I could just stay in this tiny cubicle and forget the rest of the world. Eventually, the water turns cold, and I jump out, drying myself briskly before pulling on an old faded pair of jeans, a bulky hooded sweatshirt and my trusty Converse trainers that seem to have made their way back. I look at the beautiful black cashmere coat that Taylor bought me but immediately snub it in favour of my duffel coat. It may be worn and old, but at least it was bought and paid for by me. When I am finally ready to leave, I take a look around, knowing in my soul that this is the last time I will step foot in my flat. I admire the effort that Taylor, or rather, Mrs Harris, made in restoring my flat into a home, and under any o
Thirty Days THE NINETEENTH pt2
I step into the bakery, and the first thing I notice is the amazing smell. My stomach growls, reminding me that I have been neglecting it of late. As I glance around, I take in the large counter and the wooden shelves running along the back, filled with different loaves. A couple of large wicker baskets hold fresh rolls ready for people to pick and place in the paper bags hanging up. It is carb heaven and I am loving it. A trim lady in her early fifties, wrapped in a pinny, steps forward, and I realise I recognise her from Nonna’s funeral. She was one of the many who came up to me offering their condolences, and I remember wondering who she was. “Hello, Abby. It is nice to meet you finally under different circumstances. I am Beatrice, but all my friends call me Bea.” She holds out her hand, and when I take it, she draws me into a hug. Despite my earlier reservations, I find myself warming to Bea immediately as she takes my arm and starts chatting excitedly about the shop and Nonna,
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