Page 56 of Sleep

“I really like this beard you have going on.” More fingertips, stroking my chin now. Another soft kiss.

“Haven’t shaved for a few days,” I admitted with a shrug. “Had other things on my mind.”

“What kinds of things?”

“You. The fact that I can’t stop thinking about you. That you’ve only been here a handful of hours, and already the place is empty without you. And I know I shouldn’t pester you or try to force your hand, but I could have cried when you turned up. I didn’t think you would.”

“I didn’t think I would either, but as it turns out, I think about you too. And I missed you.”

They got up and held out their hand for me to take. I did so and followed them to the kitchen counter. “I missed you too,” I said, watching them unpack containers of food. “Last night was…good. Thank you.” They handed me a fork and indicated one of the boxes.

“It’s just chicken salad. Homemade dressing,” they explained as I put a forkful in my mouth. Spices and something sharp hit my tongue as I haplessly chewed.

“Light and easy…” They paused to pull the hoodie over their head. “It’s far too late for dinner, but you need to eat. You’ll need your energy.”

“For what?” I asked, a little fearful now. This was moving fast, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it, because Mabel Donovan in a white tank top was…well, they did things to my lower body that I hadn’t felt in years. The way their shoulders moved. The outline of their chest and…God help me, there was lace peeking up from underneath that waistline.

“For me.” They smiled, wiping something from my face as I gulped down another forkful. My hands were shaking, but I was doing fine. With them here, the world was full of light.

20. Mabel

“Don’t make this weird,” I said quietly, opening and closing the kitchen cupboards, looking for a glass. A goddamn glass. It seemed Jonny Templar only owned crystal whisky lowballs. “Just bringing some water to bed. An old habit—my dad always used to bring me a glass of water at bedtime, made sure I took a sip before going to sleep. Didn’t want me dehydrated in the morning.”

“Your dad sounds nice.”

“He is. A bit of a nutter, but then he raised me. No wonder.”

“This chicken salad is really good.”

“Doesn’t distract from the fact that you had a bit of a boner going on there.”

“And who was it said, ‘Don’t make this weird’?” he said, his voice going high, as he threw the fork and empty tub in the sink.

“Don’t worry. I was having a hot flush just staring at you.”

“You made this chicken salad then?” He was trying, bless him. Trying to stay composed while leaning over—a classic move for hiding what was happening down below. I liked it. I really did.

“Yes,” I replied, a little flustered because he was right. If anyone was making this weird, it was me. At the same time, I was happy, thrilled even, with how things were going. It had been far too long since I’d felt desired. Nobody ever desired me. I was the freak in the dress. The outcast. The—

“Not just a beautiful face.” He was washing his hands, giving his face a wipe with the tea towel.

“I love to cook,” I said, taking back control. I needed to get this all wrapped up and get us into bed. “I’ve done enough of it working in that hotel. I don’t think there’s a single job I haven’t done down there. We’re always short somewhere, and I’ve never shied away from grafting. I can clean a room faster than some of the best housekeepers. I can run the dishwashers, fry up anything, make sauces.”

“I hope you know you can cook here as much as you want. I will eat anything you offer up.”

“Even my cock?”

“Mabel!” He was blushing profusely but laughing too.

“We need to talk about these things. Get to know what you like so we go to bed not being terrified of each other’s expectations. So…sex. What do you have in mind?”

He snorted, that blush gorgeous on his cheeks.

“I am woefully inexperienced in all this,” he admitted, standing there, clothed yet naked, all his emotions on display.

For me.

I was blushing myself.

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