I could ask him. Now was the perfect moment. I tried to study those glorious blue eyes but the reflection in his glasses of my own miniature face and the flickering light from the fire obscured his expression.
I pulled my hand free of his on impulse – because that was apparently how I made all my important decisions – and reached up to steal his glasses. He breathed in a sharp, shallow breath and my final resistance took a battering.
He was gorgeous with the glasses, but they softened him somehow, made him appear more approachable. Without them those blue eyes were dangerous, the angles of his cheekbones and jaw more prominent. He was a whole different animal, one that had been camouflaged and allowed too close.
A dart of raw heat zoomed through my body and settled low, low down. I nearly dropped his glasses and he reached for them, without looking away, trapping me in his gaze. He hooked one of the arms over the neck of his jumper rather than putting them back on.
I swallowed. Noisily. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’ I lowered my hand, having no idea where to put it because what I wanted was to rub it along his thigh, his stomach, run it up his chest and deep into his hair, grab him and pull his mouth down to mine.
‘I think we both know that I don’t mind.’ His confession was a breath of sinful air blown straight to my ear.
‘Oh God, don’t say that.’ I took a shaky breath of my own and shut my eyes. He was going to kiss me – I was pretty sure that was coming next and I didn’t have the necessary will power to stop him. So, I just closed my eyes and waited.
And nothing happened.
I felt the coolness of space increasing between our bodies and I opened my eyes to see him leaning back again.
‘I’msorry.’ He looked at me quickly, then tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling with a sigh. ‘You’ve told me already, you’re just out of a relationship and you’re not ready. You told Stephen, who told me. And Lydia just told me… I’ve no excuse, except…’ He looked at me and I could feel the mutual wanting humming over my skin.
This was ridiculous. Why was I torturing myself? Like Noelle said to me this morning, what was wrong with having a little bit of fun? As long as he didn’t invite me to live in his posh London apartment when I barely knew him – or even if he did, as long as I didn’taccept– then I wasn’t really repeating history. And ergo, we were all good here for the having of fun.
I rose up onto my knees, put one hand on his shoulder and swung my leg over his outstretched thighs. I didn’t sit down on him, not yet. I wasn’t that brazen, and my dress was going to ping up to my navel if I did, but I was going to make him see I wasn’t passive and unsure about this.
He stayed leaning back but I could see his pulse hammering in the column of his throat.
‘You’re right,’ I told him. ‘I don’t think I’m ready for dating yet. But this isn’t that, is it? I mean you want to kiss me, and I want to kiss you and if you’re happy with that, that’s all this has to be. We both know you’ll be leaving in a few days anyway.’
He studied my eyes, first one and then the other and then my mouth. ‘Are you sure?’
Was I? In that moment, yes, I was. This didn’t have to be anything more than it was: a great opportunity to kiss a very sexy man, in front of a log fire with snow piled at the door. It was the stuff of fantasies.
I moved my hands along his shoulders until my thumbs brushed that taut trapezium muscle either side of his neck. You could bet I was going to taste him there soon enough.
‘I’m sure.’ I lowered my head towards his. The leap of excitement in my belly transformed into a tsunami as he sat up to meet me halfway, lifting his hands to cup my face. A ragged breath – so close I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore – and then his lips touched mine.
The kiss started off soft, like we had forever to frame gentle questions with our lips. His mouth was hot in contrast to the chill of his skin and the slow searching awakened something restless in my stomach. He sat up further, his height sending my head tipping back to avoid breaking contact. I did not want to break contact. My lips parted and he touched his tongue fleetingly to mine. He tasted of cherries and chocolate with a trace of bitterness beneath that made me crave more, though I wasn’t sure what it was. Him probably.
The restlessness became liquid fire and suddenly it wasn’t enough to ask questions, I wanted to go hunting for answers. I grabbed the neck of his jumper in a handful and pushed closer. My chest met his, the bottom edge of his glasses digging into my cleavage. I plucked them off and blindly dumped them on the table over his shoulder. Object removed, my body yielded into his, soft breasts, hard chest, heat prickling, building and aching.
‘Beth,’ he breathed, somehow. I knewIcouldn’t. I was surviving on kisses alone; oxygen was nothing but a memory. I got my hands into that fabulous hair, threaded my fingers through gold and his arm banded around my waist. And we were spiralling…spiralling…spiralling down into something even though we were planted on the floor. He grazed his teeth over my bottom lip, tugged on it, before sliding his tongue, sure and deep against mine. I shuddered.
Was this kissing? It felt like I’d forgotten everything about it from before except that it involved mouths moving and tongues touching. There was so much more to what was happening here. Some puzzle piece I hadn’t known was missing. He traced my spine lightly, smoothed his palm over my lower back and along my hip and it was like I’d never known the shape of my own body. His hands rubbing like charcoal on paper over brass, bringing the image into relief. A school art activity now R rated.
I wanted to taste his skin but I was scared if I changed pace, if I got greedy, the magic of the spell would break. Because this couldn’t be real.
But then it ended anyway. Nick tore himself away, gasping, looking towards the door, frowning. I blinked slowly, hands still clenched in his hair. It was just like I thought, without his glasses his frown was dark and, God help me, that brooding expression even more toe-curling.
I turned my head in slow motion towards the door too, feeling drunk. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I think Stephen’s back.’
‘Oh. Right.’ My body was undergoing some serious protest about the sudden end to the kissing, my lips numb and burning at the same time. I took a couple of deep breaths and dared to look back at him. He was staring at me, his blue eyes glazed, telling me he was struggling to readjust too.
‘We should move.’
‘Yeah,’ I agreed in principle but his arm was still a solid band around my waist, I was up on my knees with my body curving like a bowstring ready to let an arrow fly – except the arrow was me and I’d probably land on my arse on his knees.
He pulled me close again, his other arm wrapping around me too, and he lifted me off his lap, gently placing me on the floor. He was very careful; it wasn’t his fault I collapsed in a puddle on top of a bag of crisps.
