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I continue to stare at her, my mind at war. I want to go with her. I want to...and yet there are so many reasons this is a bad idea.
‘I’m not going to beg you if that’s what you’re hoping for.’ She laughs as she leans forward and grabs her bag from the footwell. ‘And I’ve had a good night; the people you introduced me to, especially Angus, they are fabulous contacts to have. So I’m grateful to you, Valentine, and I’ll quite happily leave you to...whatever this is.’
She waves a hand at me, all confident and in control, and I wish I could have just an ounce of her certainty in that moment.
Fuck it. I can.
She reaches for her door handle and I reach for mine. If she can be this strong, decisive, in control...
And it’s just sex. Something I’ve not had in an age. And if she can compartmentalise the two, then I can too.
‘I’m coming.’
She eyes my trousers, her smile slow, salacious. ‘Not quite yet already, but you will be, very, very soon.’
I’m out of the car quicker than my erection can stiffen and following her inside. Call it deprivation, call it acting out, call it whatever you like, I’m going in willingly because what she’s offering is far more appealing than going home to my empty penthouse and staring into oblivion.
At least with her I feel... I feel more than I have in a long time.
And yes, this was supposed to be about me healing her, but being able to live again in the process...it can’t be all that wrong, can it?
Damned if I know. I’m going with my gut now, or maybe it runs a bit lower than that...
She looks back at me over her shoulder, her body still swaying hypnotically as she walks along the path to her front door. She smiles, says nothing, and keeps on going and I’m right there on her tail.
Tomorrow is a new day, we can reset the boundaries, do whatever we need to in order to get back on the right track, but for now... I’m going with whatever this is.
CHAPTER NINE
Olivia
IWAKETOshadows dancing on the ceiling, the glow from the street filtering through the trees and the open blinds I never closed. There’s a hot body pressed against me, an arm slung heavily across my naked stomach.Valentine.
It all comes back to me. The dinner, the car, the kitchen—oh, yes, the kitchen—and the bedroom.
And he’s still here. His breath’s tickling at my ear, not quite a snore but enough to tell me he’s out cold. Fast asleep.
I lie very still, angle my head just enough to see him in the low light and smile. His face is relaxed in sleep, no less chiselled but much less perfect with the dark shadow of fresh stubble and the scar through his brow that shines silver in the grey light. I want to trace its line, I want to ask him how it happened, I want to understand that tiny detail about his past.
I would have asked in the car, but I saw how he noticed my shift in focus, sensed him withdraw even before I uttered a word. And I didn’t want to break the moment and scare him off, because for the first time in a year that restless energy I’ve been trying to kill off, the constant buzz in my veins to keep moving, felt sated.
And all because of him.
Not now though.
Now I’m awake. My usual three a.m. stint. Wide-eyed, my legs doing their whole twitch thing, my heart too loud in my ears, everything more intense and aggravating because the outside world sleeps while I can’t. I snuggle in deeper, try to enjoy the heat of his body, his solidity, breathe in his scent. It’s reassuring, soothing.
I close my eyes, try to calm my wayward pulse, the crawling sensation in my legs that demands I do something. Anything, other than lie here. I tell myself this is nice. Comfy. Sleep-inducing.
But it’s no use. I don’t know how long I lie there for, only that my body positively vibrates with the effort to keep still and I flick my eyes open in frustration, glare up at the ceiling like it’s somehow to blame.
I can’t stay here like this. I’ll only wake him with my irritated dance, and normally I’d go for a run, but I can hardly do that and leave him sleeping. What if he wakes and wonders where I am? I can just imagine the thoughts that would race through his mind with the track record he’s pinned on me.
But I need to do something...
I peel back the covers, ease out from beneath his arm. He shifts in his sleep, a soft murmur that has me pausing beside him as he rolls away. I wait for his breathing to level out and then slip from the bed, pad across the room to my chest of drawers and open the bottom one. I pull out my swimsuit and step into it, take my robe off the back of the door and tug it on as I head downstairs to the back of the house.
I navigate the small panel beside the sliding doors that lead into the garden, switching on the pool lights and setting the cover to roll back. Vapours rise into the air from the aquamarine water, its inviting warmth a contrast to the cold night air that wraps around me as I step outside.
