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She was now officially ravenous. She pulled the door inwards, a polite smile on her face.
It was swept away by surprise, when she saw an obvious angry Gael staring back at her.
“What are you doing here?” She gripped the door, not opening it more than a foot.
His answer was a slow, deliberate inspection of her appearance. Carrie was infinitely glad she’d fixed up the mess she’d been straight out of the pool. She pulled her wrap dress self-consciously around her midsection, frowning a little at his possessive study of her. It was an automatic gesture, one that led her to relinquish her grip on the door.
He pushed it inwards and walked confidently into the apartment.
“Hey,” Carrie said crossly, watching as he went from room to room. “What are you doing, Gael?” Her affront was obvious in the tone of her voice.
“You said you had plans.” He stood, rock solid and still in the middle of the lounge area.
“I did.” She frowned. “I do.”
“You’re going out?”
She shook her head.
“Then someone’s coming here,” he demanded coldly, looking around again as if expecting to find a mystery suitor hiding under the carpets.
She shook her head once more, a frown of true bemusement on her face. “My plans are none of your business.”
His eyes widened. She was right, of course, but her insistence in that moment infuriated him.
He crossed the room, and kissed her with pressing urgency. “None of my business?” He demanded, wrapping his arms around her back and holding her to him. He was relieved when she didn’t resist. When her mouth opened and she kissed him back.
His mind was buzzing, his body bursting, his soul at breaking point. He had a feeling of such momentous perfection – an understanding that life would never be sweeter than in that instant – that terrified him to his core. Still he kissed her, still he tasted her, still he ran his hands down her back, pressing her to him and soothing her, trying to apologise with his body for what he’d been unable to properly convey in words.
A knock at the door sounded, breaking the moment. Gael stepped backwards, his eyes blinking. It was as though he’d been roused from a perfect dream, his eyes were laced with stars and fireworks. He shook his head to clear away the remnants of magic. He unlinked his arms from behind her back and stared at her, his accusation thick.
“Not expecting anyone?” He demanded icily, crossing to the door and wrenching it open.
Carrie followed behind, and she shot him a look of withering venom as she greeted the busboy. “Do you need me to sign something?”
“Si,” the young man said with a polite smile. He held out a receipt and Carrie added a tip then scrawled her name. Carrie and Gael stepped backwards from the door as one, leaving the man to deposit the tray in the middle of the room. When he began to shake out a tablecloth and remove the lids, Gael shook his head.
“Go now,” he spoke in his own tongue.
From pleasure to pain in the space of a minute, he thought, closing the door behind him with a slow shake of his head.
He turned to Carrie, true wonder in his expression. “You ordered dinner?”
She shrugged, her eyes not meeting his. “I was starving.”
“I’m not surprised. I am relieved, but not surprised.”
He crossed to the tray and began to lift the lids. Her choice left a lot to be desired, but at least it proved him wrong. She did eat more than the occasional shred of lettuce. Though a bowl of steamed vegetables, a pale looking tomato soup and an omelette barely constituted hearty fare.
“Gael, what are you doing here?”
His heart turned over in his chest. “I was angry at lunch. I was very wrong to take that out on you.”
Carrie swallowed. The apology was his second that night. Her anger, so fierce it had been a weighty force all afternoon, was ebbing away. She bit down on her lip, trying to remember how badly he had the power to hurt her.
“Why were you angry?” She asked cautiously.
“Please eat, Carrie,” he said, gesturing to the table. She sat down but didn’t make an attempt to reach for any food.
