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Chapter 22
Solo lay back and grinned at the ceiling.
She hadn’t tried to fend him off. Instead, she giggled and snuggled into him, her curls squashed under his chin and her cheek nestled on his chest.
Her toes curled against his calves, like a kitten making pillows with its claws.
“My toes are tingling,” she said.
“Is that good?”
“I guess it shows there’s been a fair bit of blood circulating.” A glance up, a peek of green before long lashes swooped down.
He shifted onto his back and brought her with him. Now her head rested against his shoulder, her fingers stroking circles between his pecs.
Solo opened his mouth to speak, shut it, opened it again; damn it, she might as well know.
“I’m finding this, whole thing—you know, us—pretty toe-tingling all round, to be honest.”
“Which means?”
“Which means I like you. A lot.”
“Oh.”
Long silence. Solo racked his brain. Then he realised she was feathering kisses down his neck. “I quite like you too.” Barely audible.
He guessed he shouldn’t push his luck, but he did anyway. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, I like you. I think you’re hot.”
“That makes me feel objectified.”
“And you’re a really nice, kind person.”
“Which sounds like any moment I’m going to be friend-zoned.”
“Jeesh, there’s no pleasing you.” She giggled and slapped his chest. “Okay, for the record I’m enjoying this; really enjoying it. And I guess, yeah, I could keep it going for a while longer.”
“What’s a while longer in Polly Fletcher terms?”
“Until you head back to Sydney.”
“Wow, thanks! Another couple of months.”
“That’s long-term in my books.”
His chest tightened. He tried to keep his tone light. “So, you don’t see any further than that. For us?”
He felt her shoulder against him bunch in a shrug. “I don’t know. I try not to think too far ahead.”
“Why?”
“What’s the point? It never turns out like you imagine anyway.”
“So after Danny there was no-one who floated your boat?”
“Not really. How about after Emma?”
