Keisha and Boyd had to leave first and Caitlin went over to join the band for their wind-down set, whispering ‘go for it’ in my ear, along with a request for me to let her know how I was planning on getting home once I knew. My stomach flipped inside out at the implication.
There was literally no reason for me to still be sitting on Stephen’s lap anymore with the chairs empty around the table.
‘Have you seen the garden terrace?’
He shook his head and I led him out there. The night air was hardly any cooler than the bar but there was a slight breeze that made me shiver as it curled over my feverish skin.
Paved, with some simple wicker furniture, the thing I liked best about the terrace was the little wooden arbours positioned around, draped in fake ivy and fairy lights. The buildings around it were high and close too, giving it a cosy sense of enclosure, but when I looked back at Stephen, he was rubbing his forehead, covering his eyes.
‘What is it? Has the alcohol hit you hard in the fresh air?’
‘No. Looking up at tall buildings sometimes makes me dizzy too, and we’re surrounded.’ He laughed ruefully but dropped his hand. ‘I’m fine though…as long as I look at you.’
‘So, what you’re saying is Iama good distraction from your fear of heights?’
‘The best I’ve ever come across.’ He smiled at me, teeth flashing, part seduction, part warning. My blood was syrup in my veins. I couldn’t do this anymore. I caught hold of a handful of his shirt and tugged him towards one of the arbours.
‘You won’t have to avoid looking up in here,’ I murmured.
He didn’t say anything, just followed me, moving further in and in, until I was in the corner, opposite the double bench seat and he was looming over me in the best possible way. My heart beat trembled in the base of my throat, in the pit of my stomach.
Mouth dry, I reached up and cupped his jaw. My ears were ringing after coming away from all the loud music and the shouting necessary to be heard over it. I could barely hear myself as I said, ‘Why does your beard look different?’
His dark brows furrowed slightly. ‘Does it? I didn’t trim it this morning, that’s the only difference to usual. I was trying not to wake you up.’
‘And yet you put the washer on?’ I teased, even though I was sliding the heel of my hand along his jaw line, obsessed with how the bristle of his hair felt against my skin. A pleasant tickle, faintly abrasive and definitely softer than it looked.
‘That model of washing machine is award-winningly quiet, so I weighed up the white noise against leaving my smelly running kit around.’ He smiled and my thumb lightly traced the crease it made in his cheek, the tiny dimple that couldn’t be seen beneath his beard, the perfect point where the line diverted back towards his chin. Beautiful.
‘You went running this morning?’ I had no clue how I was stringing words into sentences at this point. His aftershave had mellowed and was threaded with the salt of his skin, cool linen fabric softener and sweet alcohol.
‘If I don’t run in the morning, I probably won’t get a chance.’ He lowered his head and his voice, as he imparted it like a secret: ‘Stamina training is a priority for me.’
A bolt of heat flamed through my belly. Definitely time to stop talking. I screwed my courage up, reminding myself that I’d already kissed him once. Admittedly, I’d crept up on him unawares that time. I went up on my tiptoes, my ballet flats popping loose at the heels, the hand gripping his shirt, tightening. The tip of my nose nudged his and we were suspended there in a bubble of each other’s heat and audible breaths. I tilted my chin up further, my bottom lip grazing his.
‘Wait.’
I gasped, that word from him a cold droplet of rain hitting my scalp. Was hekidding? I’d had more foreplay with him this one evening, was more turned on, than I’d been in the entirety of my relationship with Damon.
‘Wait?’ My voice was strained and I sank onto my heels, crushing the back of my shoes. But he followed me down, placing his hands against the wooden slats either side of my shoulders, caging me in. His forehead pressed to mine and he closed his eyes.
‘We are both pretty drunk.’ His voice was somehow deep and strangled at the same time.
‘All the better to give in to something we’ve been wanting to do for ages,’ I breathed.
He half-laughed. ‘Sure…butalso…this isn’t the only thing you want, is it?’
‘Do you want me to draw you a diagram? Write a list of acts —‘
‘That’s not what I mean and you know it, Elle. You want things that I can’t offer you…and even if I could, I’m leaving at the end of the summer.’
Shit. OK. Now that wasn’t a droplet of cold water, that was a whole bucket. Only I was still burning so hot, it just evaporated straight off of me. Because I’d datedDamon, invited that dick to live in my home, and he wasn’t even fit to lick Stephen’s shoe. I’d been so desperate, so confused, about how I kept failing inrelationships that I’d tried to make it work with Damon and made an utter fool of myself. And that didn’t mean I wasn’t desperate when it came to Stephen too. But it was desperation of a different kind. This slow ensnarement that at best would only offer me a summer fling. I wanted more than that, but I also wanted Stephen, with a ferocity that scared me, and I knew the limits of what was on offer. Itwasa bad idea but, but…
‘I don’t care…’ And I didn’t. Not at that moment. A million arguments were swirling in my head: my sister telling me how I should enjoy being young, free and single. Keisha telling me not to over think it. And, even more so, how I was learning that he was capable of so much that neither him nor I had given him credit for. And…oh God, I didn’tcare. I just wanted him. I was so utterly exhausted of trying to fight this.
‘You say that now—’
‘Why don’t we just see what happens?’ I smoothed my hands up his chest, the pure cotton of his shirt moulding to every tight muscle as my palms pulled it taut, up and up to the broad curves of his shoulders that I could barely shape my hands to. He was so solid, so close. I couldn’t stand the thought he was going to stop this. Not now. ‘I want you to kiss me, Stephen.’
