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I loved the way he beamed at me as my hands somehow found their way up into his wet hair, droplets of water still running down his face.
“Kiss,” I said. I had no idea what we were talking about, but he leaned down, and I somehow got up on my toes and we stood, breathing, his lips so close to mine I could almost taste them. Smooth. Soft. And then?
I was in control. Not because he let me be but because he needed me to be, which was a whole new thunderbolt in my chest, and suddenly the million questions that had been swirling around my head all day made sense. I couldn’t put actual words to them, but bloody hell, I could see things so clearly now. He needed me because he was as bloody lost as I was, and I needed him to need me because I was drowning in my own need for someone to save me.
Not from Lewis. Not from anyone or anything. To save me from myself. I needed him to quieten every doubt in my head. He needed me to just be there. Be his. And if we could only find the right place in time, we could do that. I could do that. I could even let him…try. Maybe?
Then his lips were against mine and his arms were around my back, and we were stumbling around, and my feet lost contact with the floor, but I didn’t care because I was kissing him, my lips pressed against his, his stubble scratching my skin and his nose getting squashed. Perfectly safe and secure in his arms.
He put me down, stealing another kiss. And just one more.
“Do you want to go sit in the kitchen? Have some olives?”
“And a cup of tea?” I wanted one. Desperately. Something to normalise this, pull the baseline back to zero.
“I was thinking more along the lines of a glass of wine. I know you don’t drink, but if you want to try a little…”
“You’re going to introduce me to a load of bad habits, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “Do you mind?”
I kissed him again. Because I could.
“So now we hug, cuddleandkiss?” We needed to talk about the important things. Set down ground rules.
“Yes,” he said. “Absolutely.”
“And we’re boyfriends?” I was smiling. It felt so bloody good to smile.
“Yup. Boyfriends. Partners?”
“Husbands-to-be?” I was teasing, but he nodded.
“One day. I’m going to make you happy, Hugo Burrows. I’m going to try to make you the happiest man on earth.”
Ben
“These are Castelvetrano olives,” I said, holding a bright-green olive between my fingers before popping it into his mouth. “They’re sweet and full of flavour. You should really have them with white wine, but I’m being a rebel here.”
I picked up another, eating this one myself, the flavour hitting my tongue as I slowly chewed the ripe little olive, then washed it down with red wine andsmiled at him.
“Gosh, it’s like trying to drink oil.” He grimaced. “Not sure olives are my thing. Red wine isn’t my thing either.” He’d tried a sip and almost spat it straight back out. I didn’t mind. I loved that he’d tried it.
“Red wine is my favourite. I’ll get Mark to come over and do some proper wine tasting with you one evening. He’s really passionate about wines and getting people to appreciate the differences in grapes and blends. Olives, though—it’s something you get used to. So many different flavours, and then you have the stuffed olives that bring a whole different dimension to them.”
“What’s that one?” He pointed at the plate in front of us, carefully moving in closer so he could smell it.
“Cerignola.” I sighed happily. “They are really buttery and gorgeous. If I was serving these at work, I would put garlic and just a touch of heat in there to really cut the flavour.” I could eat olives all day long. I loved the texture, the way they popped in my mouth. I tried to pick up another one and completely missed the plate, making it spin. The olives bounced onto the table, oil dripping off my hand. Like it was nothing, Hugo picked one up and took a careful bite, then passed me the tea towel.
I was staring, because I couldn’t help myself. His hair was still wet, making his ringlets damp perfection around his face. The sharpness of his cheeks was even harsher in the soft light from the candles. I was going full out on romance here because today had been wonderful, on every level from the way he’d smiled at me to that shower. It had taken every ounce of willpower to control myself, to just slowly explore his skin, appreciate the warmth of him under my fingertips, the realness of the situation, the only thing that had made me hold back. How terrified he must have been, yet how incredibly brave he was to come and get what he needed. He was the bravestman I’d ever met. I was no coward myself, but it had taken me years to get to this point, this state where I no longer cared what people thought.
“Have you always known you liked men?” he asked quietly, reaching out to pick up a plump black olive. He popped it in his mouth before carefully licking his fingers. Why it made me smile, I didn’t know. He always made me grin like an idiot.
“That’s a Nyon.” I held one up, inspecting it carefully before crushing it against my tongue. “Too much rosemary in the marinade here, but they’re full of flavour.”
“Different,” he agreed. “But don’t avoid the question.”
He was bloody bossy, but yeah. I’d not answered it.
