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A lie.
A stupid, obvious lie.
Hawthorne raises a brow but doesn’t break our eye-contact as he brings his hand up higher, fingers ghosting over my jaw to cradle my face.
I think I’ve stopped breathing.
He leans in and my eyelids flutter shut of their own accord. But the next thing I feelisn’this lips caressing mine. It’s the scratch from the slight stubble around his jaw brushing against my cheek as he leans in and whispers in my ear.
“When you’re ready for a distraction, you know where to find me.”
My eyes snap open in time to see him pull back, a smug grin on his face.
“I already told you,” I say, my voice too shaky to believable. “I don’t need a distraction.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he says with a shrug before he laces his fingers with mine and pulls me across the road. “We’re heading this way, right?”
I nod, not sure I can trust my voice to say anything, and let him guide me towards the entrance to Primrose Hill.
By the time we reach the top, the sky has already begun to turn pink and Hawthorne still hasn’t let go of my hand.
Not that I’m in any kind of rush for him to do so.
I like the feel of his hand in mine. We fit together nicely and each small caress of his thumb against my skin sends a new wave of heat flowing through me.
“You weren’t kidding about the view,” Hawthorne says with an appreciative nod once we come to a still. The lush green grass rolls out beneath us and the London skyline stretches across the horizon in front of us. It’s the perfect blend of nature and architecture, and one of my favourite spots in the city.
With his free hand, Hawthorne digs around in his pocket and pulls out his phone for the first time all day.
“What’re you doing?”
He lines his camera up with the skyline and snaps a few photos. “Getting some evidence for my sister that I actually left my hotel room and had some fun while I was here.”
“Might be a bit more believable if you’re actually in the photo,” I say. “You could easily have just grabbed those from the internet.”
“You think I’d go that far just to avoid a lecture from my sister?” He pretends to look offended but then breaks out into a sheepish grin. “Because I absolutely would.”
That gets a laugh out of me. I reluctantly drop his hand and reach for his phone. “Give it here and you go and stand over there.”
He does what I say with only a hint of resignation. “Is here good?”
I take a step backwards so he’s centred in the middle of the frame and the full skyline is in the backdrop. “All good. Now smile.”
He gives me a blank stare.
“Come on, Hawthorne. I’ve seen your smile before. It’s not half bad.”
The corners of his lips lift ever so slightly. “You think I’ve got a nice smile?”
“Isaidit’s not half bad. Take from that what you will.” He’s got a wonderful smile, actually. The kind of smile that lights up a room and lifts your mood when he turns it on you. “Don’t tell me you’re the kind of guy who sees a camera and immediately wheels out the thousand yard stare.”
“I’m going for more of a handsomesmoulderactually.”
“And how’s that going for you?”
“Judging by the look on your face right now?” He smirks and shoots me a playful wink. “I’d say pretty good.”
I force my features into a scowl, idly wondering what emotion had been painted across my face seconds prior. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
