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“Are you hurt?” He takes my chin in his hand, lifting my face until we're staring straight at each other. “Amy, has somebody hurt you?”
He keeps saying my name. More than he would normally. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remember Lara telling me it’s a technique she uses when her clients are having panic attacks. A way of grounding them, reminding them who they are. I wonder if Callum's trying to do the same.
“That man I told you about,” I say. “The one who was hanging around my house. He was outside the building when I left, it looked as though he was waiting for me.”
“Bloody hell, Amy.” He drops his head until our foreheads touch. When he blinks, his eyelashes brush my cheeks. “What did he do?”
“He started to walk over to me.” Our lips are so close I can practically feel them touch. It's thrilling. “Then I turned and ran back here.”
“He's still out there?” Callum frowns, loosening his grasp on my chin. He tries to step back, but I hold on to him without thinking, not wanting to let him go.
My hand moves up from his shoulder, my palm cupping the back of his neck. My fingers burrow into the thick hair that falls over his collar.
“Amy.” This time it doesn't ground me, it sends me soaring. Then his lips touch mine and we're flying together.
We kiss, our mouths moving as one, his hand pressing into the base of my spine. I arch against him, tugging his hair when his tongue slides against mine. His breath is hot, tasting of coffee and mints. My skin tingles and all thoughts are replaced by the desperate need to feel him. I cup his jaw, feeling it move beneath my palm as he kisses me harder, then he moans softly.
Pulling away, I bury my face in his chest, afraid to look at him. Because that was possibly the best kiss of my life, and I'm not ready to regret it. Not yet.
He presses his hand against me, angling my head. His touch is firm but gentle, and it excites me.
Before I was scared, now I'm absolutely petrified. Not only did I see a crazy man outside the building, but I also kissed my boss.
I kissed my boss.
It doesn't matter how many times I repeat it, it still sounds absurd. So patently unlike me.
“Are you okay?” he whispers, and I realise his face is buried in my hair. The thought sends pleasure through my spine. I still can't bring myself to look at him. The realist in me knows that at some point we're going to have to move, but the child inside is begging me not to do it yet. Just a few more moments of not having to deal with it, that's all I want.
“I'm okay.” I mumble into his shirt. I lower my grasp onto his toned hips, but that means I'm still touching him. He's touching me, too; one hand on my cheek, the other wrapped around my waist. Somehow I force my eyes open and I'm immediately struck by the urge to kiss him again. It snakes around my body, making me ache for him. His lips part and a breath escapes, and I'm pretty sure he's thinking the same thing.
Then the door opens and we jump apart. There's only a foot between us when Charlie walks into the room, scratching his head.
“What happened to you?” he asks, confused. “One minute you were there and then you were gone.” He notices Callum. “Oh hello, Mr Ferguson.”
Callum nods, saying nothing. I can still feel his fingers even though he's not holding me. Slowly, I bring my eyes to his, and I see the expression I've been trying to hide from.
A combination of excitement and regret.
Is it in my eyes, too? I'm not sure. My emotions are too shaken for me to single them out. I feel like I'm on the edge.
“I didn't feel well,” I mumble. “I'm sorry, Charlie, I don't want to go out anymore.”
“Are you sure?” He sounds confused and I can't say I blame him. Only minutes ago I was heading to the pub with him. How is he supposed to know everything has changed so quickly? That my world's just taken a one hundred and eighty degree turn.
“I just want to go home,” I whisper. I'm not sure if I'm saying it to him or Callum. “I'll feel better then.”
“Okay then.” Charlie shrugs. “I'll walk you to the station.”
My body stiffens at the thought of going out there again. Digger could still be waiting for me, and as much as I like Charlie, he isn't exactly built. In fact he's five eight and pretty scrawny. He wouldn't stand a chance in a fight.
“I'll take her,” Callum says, putting his hand on my shoulder in what must look like a friendly gesture, except I can feel his thumb rubbing circles into my skin. “She's not well enough to go on the tube. I'll give her a lift.”
I keep forgetting he has a car here. Only the senior partners are allocated a space in the underground parking lot. The plebs are expected to travel by public transport.
Charlie shrugs and waves, wishing us both a good weekend as he leaves the office. There's a quizzical expression on his face and I feel a twinge of guilt that I've let him down. But it's nothing compared to the knot of nausea that kissing Callum has caused.
* * *
