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I laugh behind my hands. ‘No.’
‘No?’
‘Honestly, Jack—’
‘It’s non-negotiable, Millie.’
‘No!’ I practically squeal, bursting into laughter.
‘Or what?’
He pulls my hands away and gazes down at me. A smile curves the corner of his mouth. Oh, his face. Jack’s first-thing-in-the-morning face. His freshly showered face. He is so beautiful. I’m toast. I’m totally fucking toast.
‘Oh, dear,’ says Jack, shaking his head. ‘Unacceptable, this face. I really must investigate it further.’ He leans, lowering closer to me. Droplets of water land on me, from his thick, messy hair. I put a hand over my face.
‘Not brushed my teeth.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘I’m gross.’
‘Don’t care.’ He pulls my hand away, and kisses me slowly, and God, my chest, my stomach, my whole body – everything aches. I draw my arms around him, tingle at the touch of his warm skin beneath my hands, feel the taut, hardness through his jeans against my thigh .?.?.
‘Jack .?.?. just .?.?. oh. .?.?. can .?.?.’
He moans, deep, at the back of his throat, smiles against my lips, his hand lingering at the seam of my underwear, in the crease of my thigh, warm fingertips grazing me, beneath the fabric. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t ever want him to stop .?.?. But no. No, he’s literallyleaving.Damage control.Damage control.
I pull back, our faces inches apart. ‘I need .?.?.’ I clear my throat, ‘tea.Coffee. Or something. D-do you need coffee? I feel like we need coffee.’
Jack hesitates, slightly taken aback, I can see, from the sudden change of tone. But he smiles against my mouth. ‘Erm. Yeah? Always?’
I slide out from beneath him. ‘I need a toothbrush too.’
‘If you say so. I’ll go and find some sort of hot beverage to assemble, shall I?’
After I’ve washed my face and brushed my teeth (andgatheredmyself back to human-shaped from a jelloid heap on the floor), I find Jack in the boxy, bottle-green and shabby-wood kitchen area, sipping coffee at a small, round table. The tabletop is a varnished slice of tree-trunk, and the two wooden chairs at it that remind me of something from ‘Goldilocks and the Three Bears’.
He smiles at me. ‘The milk in the fridge is warm from the power-outage. But – I managed black coffee?’
‘Perfect.’
The door, to the deck, is open a crack, a clean, cold breeze chilling my bare feet. Outside is beautiful and calm this morning and it’s so, blindingly sunny that I have to put my hand above my eyes, like a visor, to stop myself being blinded. The rain. The wind. The storm. It’s all gone. The world’s cobwebs, blown away.
‘Can you believe the brass neck?’ he says, as I sit. ‘We were basically blown into oblivion last night and now .?.?.’
‘I know. And now, this,’ I say, and I take in his thoughtful gaze. The sun hitting the smooth skin of his face, the breeze ruffling his shower-damp hair. He chews the corner of his mouth, in concentration, watching the trees gently sway outside, breathes into his mug as he drinks, kicks up a puff of steam. Oh, I wish he wasn’t going. I wish he was staying. Forever. A forever of last nights. Kissing and hands sliding over my hips. A forever of chatting on our sides, in the darkness, both laughing so much, the bed shook.
‘So .?.?. are you all set?’ I ask tentatively.
‘All set?’
I nod. ‘You know. To jet off. Topastures new?’
Jack smiles thoughtfully, looks down into his coffee. ‘Er. I think so? Everything’s ready to go into storage at the flat, the new tenant came and measured up yesterday. They want to put a four-poster bed in bedroom, so.’
‘Bloody hell. How .?.?. alluring.’
Jack’s head tips back and he laughs. ‘Ah, I don’t know about that, Millie. He was all about beer fridges and putting his flat-screen in the bedroom for the boxing when we chatted.’
