When the knock finally comes, my heart almost stops.
“Hello, you,” I say, opening the door.
Henry stands there looking sinfully gorgeous — his three-piece suit slightly undone, tie hanging loose, hair damp from the rain. His cheeks are flushed, chest rising like he’s sprinted here.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he breathes. “I’m unplugging the phone from 4:30 from now on.”
Before I can reply, he drops his briefcase by the door, strides forward, and kisses me.
It’s not a greeting — it’s a claim. Hungry, breath-stealing, magnetic. His hands slide up my arms, into my hair, gripping like he never wants to let go. I melt into him, tugging him closer until the world disappears.
I flick the door shut with my foot as he backs me toward the sofa, our mouths still locked. His lips trail down my jaw, sending electric sparks racing through my body. Every touch, every sigh, feels like fire under my skin.
“I need you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear.
“Yeah?” I whisper back.
“Always.”
The single word undoes me. My entire body floods with heat — and then—
A sharp knock rattles the door.
We freeze.
“Expecting company?” he pants, my jumper still half raised in his hands.
“No,” I manage, just as a voice calls from outside:
“Matty, open up! It’s an emergency!”
Rachel.
“Shit.”
I scramble off his lap, smoothing my hair and tugging my jumper back down while Henry straightens his shirt. I open the door to find my sister standing there, bottle of wine in hand.
“Hey,” she says breezily, walking straight in. “What took you so long?”
Then she spots Henry — dishevelled, shirt half unbuttoned, hair a mess — and her smirk widens.
“Oh. No need to answer that, I guess.”
“Hi, I’m Henry,” he says smoothly, offering his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Rachel eyes him like he’s an unexpected plot twist. “Yeah, nice to meet you too… I thought we hated him?” she mutters under her breath.
“Not anymore,” I hiss, shooting her a glare. “WelikeHenry now.”
He chuckles quietly behind me.
“I’ll get out of your way,” he says gently.
“Wait, no!” I blurt, then instantly regret how needy it sounds. His eyes darken slightly, though, and I know he understands.
Rachel groans. “Oh my god, stopeye-fuckingeach other. It’s weird. Henry, stay — guy advice might help.” She plops down on the sofa and thrusts the wine bottle at me.
Henry gives me an amused smile, takes the bottle from my hands, and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “Go on. I’ll open this.”
