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‘Who says I’d be underneath?’ I shot him a look. ‘Maybe I’d be the one on top.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘Maybe you would.’
My breathing was shallow. I still didn’t know what was going on in his head. ‘I’m not some project.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing.’ I decided this wasn’t the time to think about it. It didn’t matter anyway.
‘I don’t blame you for hesitating. I hurt you. I’m sorry for that and I’m sorry I made you wary about men.’ There was a raw edge to his tone that caught my attention as much as the hard bite of his fingers and I realized I’d never really thought deeply about his reasons for leaving. I’d been so hurt all I’d thought about was myself.
I looked down at his hand, bronzed and strong, holding me firmly.
We could spend the evening talking about the past, going over what had happened like a tractor with its wheels stuck in muddy ground digging itself ever deeper instead of moving forward. But I knew I didn’t want to live my life sinking into the mud of what had happened five years before. I wanted to put it behind me. I couldn’t change what had happened, but I could choose not to let it taint my present. I could choose to be in charge of my future.
‘It’s history.’ And finally it felt as if it was. I’d held the dream in my head for so long, held on to the emotions. I hadn’t allowed anyone to mention his name, because I’d been so embarrassed by how needy I’d been, but I could see I’d been too hard on myself. Life had felt tough and I’d latched on to the person who had made it easier. Accepting that felt like a step forward.
I felt lighter. Stronger. More in control.
I knew who I was and what I wanted and I wanted him. Not because I felt vulnerable or needed the attention but because he was still the hottest guy I’d ever met and that seemed like a good enough reason to me. And it didn’t matter what his reasons were, because I wasn’t planning on letting my emotions in on this date.
I suppose we want different things at different times of our lives. At eighteen I’d been desperate for security. Now?
His hand tightened on my arm. ‘Do you want me to take you home?’
I knew if I said yes, he’d take me to the car, drive me back to Notting Hill and that would be the end of it.
‘No. I want you.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. But just for sex.’
His eyes darkened. ‘Rosie—’
‘I just want to be clear about that. I don’t want anything else. I don’t expect you to prop me up when I feel low, I don’t expect you to hold me when I’m sad and I don’t expect you to fight my battles. But we have chemistry—we always have—and good sex has been thin on the ground.’ It had been nonexistent but I wasn’t ready to admit that. ‘I’m tired of dating guys I have nothing in common with in the hope we can have fun in bed. I’ll just take the fun in bed and forget the dating.’
Hayley had done the same thing with Nico. Of course, that hadn’t quite turned out the way she’d planned but I wasn’t going to think about that now. I was different. It wouldn’t happen to me. For a start, I was already immune. If you had a large dose of something, you usually didn’t get it again. I’d already caught Hunter. I told myself I couldn’t catch him twice.
‘Can I use your shower?’ I picked up the bag I’d brought with me and followed his directions.
‘Help yourself to towels and anything else you need. I’ll make us something to eat.’
It was a ridiculously intimate exchange for two people who up until a couple of weeks ago hadn’t seen each other for five years.
I stripped off and stood under the water, aware of the water flowing over my naked skin. I couldn’t stop thinking of him and I stayed under the water longer than I intended. It felt symbolic, as if I were washing away the past. When I joined him in the kitchen, I could see he’d showered, too. His hair was still wet. His feet were bare.
I was wearing my favourite pair of skinny jeans and a pink T-shirt. I wasn’t dressed up, but neither was he. On the other hand, Hunter looked good in anything. Hayley was right. He was gorgeous. Smoking hot, and if I had my way he wasn’t going to be wearing clothes for the rest of the night.
It was time to get Hunter out of my system.
Keen not to look too rabid and desperate, I slid onto a tall stool while he pulled a bottle out of the fridge.
I’d expected it to be wine but it was champagne and I jumped slightly as he popped the cork and then watched, fascinated, as he poured it skilfully without spilling a single drop and handed me a glass. His fingers brushed mine and I shivered.
‘What are we celebrating?’
‘Our first date.’ His eyes gleamed and I grinned and raised the glass.
