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I can’t say the same, not because I dislike Spencer Layton, but because his presence is dependent on his big brother’s. I hold out my hand. “Hi, Spencer.”
He takes my hand and leans in to kiss my cheek. His skin is different than his brother’s, coarse and dry. His scent, while pleasant, doesn’t make the hairs on my body stand up or send a current through me that sensitises my skin. “Thank you for letting me gatecrash your birthday weekend.”
“Thank you to you and your family for the chalet.” Come on, Dayna, shake it off. Shake him off. “Right, who’s up for champagne breakfast on me?”
“You mean courtesy of the first-class lounge?” Amy asks.
I slip my tongue out briefly, and she laughs. Rachel drops an arm over my shoulder and yanks me into her side. “Mine really is on you, foxy lady. I used your air miles.”
I nudge her ribs gently. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She leans into my ear so only I can hear her say, “Maybe it’s a good chance to put it to bed. In the non-sexual sense, naturally.”
I cast a glance back over my shoulder to Clark, who hasn’t moved and is looking right back at me.
I FIND MY seat in the fifth row of business class. Rachel, Teddy and Yvette are in the row behind. I’m sitting by the window, and the two seats next to me are free. I hope it stays that way. When I can’t book first class because the flight isn’t long enough, I always have Rachel book extra space so I don’t have anyone in the seat next to me. It’s not that I’m completely anti-social. Not always, anyway. I just like to spread my elbows and pull my feet onto my chair. I don’t want some random person leaning over my shoulder to see my screen or trying to make small talk.
“Champagne?” an air steward asks, holding out his tray for me to take a glass.
“Thank you.” I take off my boots and curl my feet onto the seat. I’m just getting comfortable when I see Clark heading in my direction. Please no. He looks bloody pleased with himself as he locates his seat on the aisle of my row. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumble for my own benefit.
I find my phone and hammer out a message to Rachel:
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
I hear her laugh in the seat behind before her reply lands:
IF YOU WEREN’T SO PRECIOUS ABOUT YOUR PERSONAL SPACE YOU’D BE ON THIS ROW WITH ME
Goddamn it. Some personal space. Sitting one seat away from Clark is just about the most claustrophobic I could ever be. As if two feet will be enough to stop the air feeling so heavy between us that I’m struggling to draw breath.
He closes the overhead compartment and takes his seat. I fight against my body’s desire to look at him. I fail, and end up scowling at the supercilious smirk on his face.
I plug in my headphones and start scrolling through the inflight entertainment until I find a movie I think I’ll like, despite knowing I won’t have time to finish it on this flight.
Unusually, I pay full attention to the safety talk and actually listen to the captain’s welcome speech. I read the inflight snack menu as my chosen film plays through my ears. Everything, anything, to stop me from thinking about how I’m squeezing my thighs together and my nipples are hardening in response to him being so close.
It’s a good tactic. Until the onscreen couple take things to the bedroom. As Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome crawls over the naked body of his on-set beauty, I find myself thinking about our first time…
It was technically date three, if we count meeting at Teddy’s celebration drinks on the Friday, dinner Saturday and drinks Sunday. That’s how it was for us. Those four short weeks felt like a lifetime. An incredible lifetime. From the moment we met, it was like we couldn’t stay apart, as if there were a force so great it defied logic and sense.
Frankly, I don’t know how I managed to hold out until date three. I wanted him the first night. God, I was desperate for him the second night. And that third night, I knew I had to have him or lose sound mind for another day.
We’d had drinks closer to his apartment in Kensington than my place at Shad Thames, but we only flagged one black cab and he got in beside me. He called out my address for the driver, then his own.
“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to see my place?” I asked. Forward as hell, not like me in the slightest, yet somehow exactly right.
He told the driver the change of plan then the cab fell silent. Still. Charged. I could feel his gaze burning into me, feel it on my skin, heating me, drenching my knickers. I cast him a glance through my lashes, wondering if he could see right through me to just how much I wanted him. Wondering if he felt anything close to my own need.
He lifted a palm to my cheek, his irises darkening, his lids heavy. My lips parted with longing. His mouth met mine, his tongue teasing me, swirling with my own. His taste was sweet and salty all at once. Delicious. With his free arm, he hooked my waist, pulling me to him, my leg crossing his. A move that told me he wanted this every bit as much as I did. I moaned into his mouth and dug my fingers into his hair, pulling the roots as our kiss intensified.
We broke apart when the driver stopped outside my block. Thankfully, Rachel was out for the night, because we were both panting and flushed.
“Can I use your bathroom?” he asked when we were inside my modest two-bed overlooking Tower Bridge.
“Sure, it’s down the hall, second on the left.”
When he left me alone in the open lounge, I realised I’d been holding my breath. I hung up my coat and straightened my black shirt-dress. I set my iPhone on the dock and put Missy Higgins on shuffle, then took out a bottle of Malbec and two glasses. My hands were trembling with anticipation.
