‘And how long have you got before the house is sold?’ I pressed the tip of my index finger into the hollow between his collarbones and felt his pulse, tripping quickly. I couldn’t stop touching him. He was like a gorgeous cashmere jumper. I wanted to keep him in my wardrobe and bring him out to wrap around me whenever I was cold. Or hot. Just whenever, really.
‘About six weeks.’
‘Okay.’ I paused. It wasn’t just touching him that I was getting addicted to I realised. I wanted to know if he was going to be able to go back to his family home. I needed it, the same way I’d needed to find out this evening if he was okay after leaving the library. One desire just replaced another as soon as it was fulfilled. He was a book I had to read the next chapter of, even though it hadn’t been written yet.
An idea popped into my head about how I could satisfy my new obsession with the added benefit of helping him too, hopefully. But my throat closed up when I tried to speak. Normally, I couldn’t keep my thoughts to myself for longer than the space of an advertisement break, so why could I not just say what I wanted? Because my brain knew I was nuts. That this was impulsive and risky and could lead to short-term and long-term pain.
But he’d been brave and honest with me. The least I could do was be honest too.
‘I’ve got this New-Year’s-Eve-slash-engagement party that I’ve been invited to. It’s in London. Fulham – not far from Clapham really,’ I started, trying to sound breezy. I slid my finger down and hooked it just above the first button on his shirt, letting the dead weight of my arm tug him nearer. When his face was just a few inches away, his blue eyes fastened on mine, I dug deep. He liked me. If he didn’t want anything more, would he really keep following me around and looking at me like he wanted to breathe me in, the way he was doing now? ‘Maybe you could come to the party with me, and then, whilst I’m in London, we could go to your house together, the day after. Or before. You said being with me helped. Do you think I could help you with that too?’
‘I…’ He touched his thumb to the corner of my mouth, and I shivered. ‘Yeah, I think it would. But—’
‘But?’ My heart seized up in my chest, waiting for the let-down. Better to find out now.
‘This isn’t just a pity thing is it?’
‘No. It’s definitely not.’
‘Okay, so…’ He cupped my face between both his hands, as his eyes searched mine. Even in the dim light I could see that his pupils were blown up to big black circles. ‘Are you asking me on out a date? A proper one, that doesn’t involve being chaperoned by a couple of dozen other people you need to look after, or baking mince pies or wheeling meat joints up a hill?’
My chest flooded with the heat and light of hope. There was no room for air. I wanted to make a joke to make the moment easier to deal with, soften the shiny edges that I couldn’t breathe around but now was not the time. ‘Yes. I am.’
‘Then yes. I’d like to do that, very much.’
I felt the smile he gave me down to the tips of my toes and when he touched his mouth to mine, maybe I was imagining it, but this didn’t have the same desperation as earlier. He pressed his thumbs gently against my chin as he sat up taller and I found myself led straight into a deep, drugging kiss. He gathered me against his chest with smooth, gliding hands and strong arms; each point of contact burning through the stretchy wool of my dress.
And then he broke the kiss with a slow, tender tug on my bottom lip that echoed between my legs. A noise of protest snuck out of the back of my throat and I struggled to open my eyes. He was removing his glasses and putting them on the coffee table. Seriously, what could be more of a turn-on than the premeditation in that careful move? The kissing wasn’t over; clearly, he was just getting started. One glance at that sculpted profile, the shifting light of the room playing over his cheekbones, making shadows beneath his fair eyelashes and I was gone.
I crawled into his lap, legs straddling his hips before he’d even turned back properly. I chased his mouth back to mine, and when I caught it, began working on the first button of his shirt. It fell open easily and my hands slid inside over his bare shoulders; solid bone, firm muscles. I was fixated on that taut slope between his neck and shoulder, finally dropping my mouth to it and it felt, tasted and smelt like heaven, the faint salt on my tongue and fresh eucalyptus smell of him filling my lungs. If this little piece of him could be so dreamy, I really needed to do some further inspection.
I rose up on my knees so I could get a better angle to explore all that beautiful, warm skin. I should have asked him if that was okay, I was moving us fast all of a sudden, but his groan as I coasted my greedy fingertips over his ribs and the firm ripples of his stomach was all the encouragement I needed.
I climbed off the sofa, grabbing his shirt in a fistful and tugging him after me as I backed towards the door that led to the hallway and my bedroom. I worked on the buttons of his shirt as we walked, and his hands traced the straps of my bra at my back. As we stumbled through the door, he pushed my hair off my shoulder and leaned down to kiss my neck. I tilted my head in readiness and was shocked when what happened instead was laughter. I opened my eyes to see he was looking over my shoulder at the wall behind my bed where myTwilightposter was.
‘You weren’t kidding about liking vampires.’ He laughed again and I half-groaned, half-laughed too.
‘Look, I was a teenager okay—’
He didn’t let me finish my sentence. His mouth was back on mine and his hands ran up my thighs beneath my dress, curling around where the edge of my knickers created a seam. I had tights on, but the sensation was still enough to make my hips tilt forwards involuntarily; like he’d tripped a lever he’d known was there, but I hadn’t. I had to snatch air between kisses. I was getting dizzy.
I pulled him down to the bed and he wrapped one arm across my back, reclining me in one slow, controlled move as we kept kissing, so gradually I lay back, his body hovering over mine. Was he showing off his strength? Maybe. Did I care? No. Honestly, I couldn’t get enough of the way he was touching me. I felt worshipped. I felt amazing and beautiful and all the wonderful things he’d told me, because why shouldn’t I believe him? I arched against him, took fistfuls of his hair and he fit himself against me in the cradle of my thighs. My mind had melted off at the edges into a darkness full of velvet tongue and heat and simmering sensations that were building up everywhere my pulse beat.
His lips travelled to my ear as his hand moved between us, finding the waistband of my tights.
‘Can I touch you?’
‘Yes.’
Sparks, sparks as his fingers dipped inside my underwear, skin to skin. My head tipped back, caught between the headboard and the pillow but I didn’t care. I was barely aware of anything except the circles he was drawing with perfect pressure, every pass ratcheting the excitement higher, moving onto plains I’d never found before. He took my earlobe in his teeth as his touch slid deeper. He murmured my name and I was coming apart, breaking into glorious pieces beneath him. Warmth spilled through me and he held me close as I shuddered and gasped.
He was breathing fast in my ear, gifting small kisses to my neck and cheek as the delicious shocks receded. I sighed and attempted to open my eyes, tried to move my hand to stroke his face but my body had given up.
‘Wow, I’m sorry, I think I’m gonna pass out,’ I mumbled, trying to crawl up from the pit of exhaustion that was dragging me down.
‘It’s okay, it’s more than okay.’ He smoothed his hand over my hair, down my back and tightened his hold. A whole new level of intimacy opened up to me and I fell a little bit further.
Chapter Seventeen
