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I brush ice from my jeans. “No. I'm enjoying something I never thought I’d do when I got up this morning. This evening is refreshing. Different.” I move away from where we're still touching. “Let's skate.”
Bryn catches my arm before I can leave, sliding me across the ice toward him. The intensity in his eyes matches that of the kiss on the sofa the other night. He tugs me to the edge of the rink and rests against the barrier. “Like you.You'rerefreshing. Different. I enjoy being with you.”
The iced white world around fades as the energy between us hums into the space nobody else occupies. Today was a crazy idea for a rock star—but with Bryn, this is normal, as if anything we did together would be natural because we're Bryn and Avery. There's confusion on Bryn's face, thoughts buried deeper than his words. Okay, we're Bryn and Avery on the surface, but we don't reach further below; there aren’t any roots pushing deeper and won't be while we both hold back.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Bryn takes hold of my coat collar and his mouth meets mine with the same urgency as the last kiss. My feet slide from under me and I sink into him, grasping his jacket arms. Bryn’s cool lips move against mine and when I respond to his kiss, he digs his fingers into my hair. This man kisses with a passion I haven't felt before; a raw intensity where he holds nothing back. People don't kiss like he does in public, or they shouldn't with children around.
Bryn releases my hair and drags me into his hips, continuing his exploration of my mouth with his tongue. He tastes of mint, and of Bryn. And after just three kisses, Bryn Hughes tastes as if he's mine.
My feet slide apart again as I lose balance through lack of concentration. I'm pulled out of the moment, back to a reality that could hit me on the backside again at any second.
“Bryn!” I breathe as my mouth slips from his. How can anybody balance on ice-skates and kiss like that at the same time?
Bryn loosens his grip and I steady myself on the barrier. The scratch from his stubble joins the cold of the evening in smarting my face and I touch my cheek as I look back at him.
“I think I like you too much,cariad.” Bryn runs his tongue along his bottom lip.
Breathe, Avery.
“I think the rest of Canary Wharf now also knows you like me too much,” I reply breathlessly.
Bryn doesn't look around, and drags me closer. “And?”
“Somebody could take your picture.”
He nudges my neck with his cold nose. “Nobody cares, I'm the drummer, remember?”
His warm breath against my skin contrasts the cold and I shiver as he gently places his lips on my pulse point. Relieved we're in public, and nothing else can happen, I wriggle from Bryn's grasp and take his hand.
“But we'd better stop; it's not appropriate.” I indicate the kids skating by.
“I guess.” He leans closer. “You can show me your bruise later if you like.”
Unsure how to answer, I give him a lopsided smile and pull Bryn away from the side of the rink, in case he decides to kiss me in a way that'll melt the ice beneath my feet.
* * *
Bryn choosesthe trendy restaurant close to the ice-rink as the place to eat. We head for one of the round tables tucked toward the side of the room. I unwind my blue scarf from my neck and unbutton my coat as Bryn studies the menu. I rarely dine at places like this, establishments modelled to look down-to-earth when there's nothing modest about the central London prices.
“What should we have?” Bryn asks and taps the table.
“I'm not that hungry. Chips?”
“Chips!” He grins. “Ice skating and chips.”
“And hot chocolate.”
“With marshmallows?”
“I wouldn't accept anything less.”
Our order arrives while the crowded cafe fills further, the cold forcing more people off the ice and in search of comfort food. The number of bodies filling the room stops too much scrutiny of us and a relaxed Bryn rests back in his chair eating slowly and watching the world around him.
“This is awesome!”
“The chips?”
