Page 116 of Brighter Together

“You groped my nipple in a lift an hour ago.”

“That was off-site.”

I laugh. “Excellent defence.”

“I thought so.”

“And in the evenings, assuming you can drag yourself away from the hotel for long enough, you can come to mine.”

He grins. “Can I?”

“I have a nice little flat with holiday lets for neighbours.”

“Very discreet.”

“Exactly.”

I kiss him again.

This time his arms go around me.

For a few seconds, standing beside his car in a damp concrete car park feels far more romantic than it has any right to.

Then he pulls back slightly. “Just do me one favour.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“No more pencil skirts.”

I stare at him. “What?”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re banning my clothes now?”

“I’m saying I cannot guarantee professional behaviour when you wear those things.”

I laugh. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“It absolutely is.”

His lips press to my forehead.

“I’m asking for mercy.”

“I make no promises,” I snort. Silly man.

“I was afraid of that,” he groans, before walking around to the driver’s side.

I get into the passenger seat with a ridiculous smile on my face.

Butterflies tumble around my stomach as I pull the seatbelt across me.

He wants this.

He wants me.

Not just Manchester.