Page 30 of Oyster

“I don’t feel smooth. I’ve upset you somehow and want to put it right. I was moving things too fast, wasn’t I?”

A sad smile crept across her face. “Not especially, not for two people in their late twenties, attracted to each other. Not really.” She hesitated. “I don’t want you to touch me there.” Her lips thinned. “You know where. Not yet. Maybe never.”

“That’s fine, sweet. I’m not sure I’m ready for that either. I’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“And it doesn’t put you off?” Eyebrows unhappily slanted, she fiddled with a loose thread on the cushion. “Because I shouldn’t need to spell it out, Nico, but what I’m working with down there is… um… kind of less than ideal.”

I should have anticipated this conversation since the moment I’d kissed her earlier and agreed to come over. We were always going to have it sooner or later. I was only annoyed I hadn't brought it up so I could have reassured her before she became upset.

“No, Éti, it doesn’t put me off. It’s not what… what I’m used to. It will be different, and maybe I’ll need some time to get my head around stuff, but I’m not scared I won’t like it. Because your body is yours, and I like you.”

She made a huffing sound of disbelief. “You say that now. But what about when… you know, we want more than kissing? I find it very difficult to imagine someone like you will ever… desire my body when I hate it so much. Someone straight, I mean. Which is why I’m not in a hurry for you to see it. Or feel it.”

She plucked at her top, holding it out from her flat chest, as if trying to envisage breasts. “Although, I suppose, for the sake of balance, I should also point out that, objectively, it isa very excellent body. I mean, I’m not a fan of certain aspects, especially… um… well, you know which parts. But I’m ripped and cut, if that helps at all. And limber. And my stamina is legendary. I can go on for ninety minutes no trouble, and into extra time and a penalty shoot-out if necessary.”

Oh merde. This woman stamped her name across my heart with every word she spoke. As she tried to make light of her anxiety, I drank in her worried face. Her pretty curls refusing to lie flat, the delicate gold chain at her neck and the huge fucking diamond on her finger.

I smoothed a hand over her bare arm, her lean shoulder, and the ridge of a bra strap over her spare, angular collarbone. “Listen. When I found you on the beach, and then after, when we met up a couple more times, I wasn’t seeking a relationship. I never am. I never take girls out to lunch. I rarely even have a second drinks date. And yet here we are. I like you, Éti. All of you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Ah.” She held up a finger. “That’s another thing. How can I be sure you like me for me? How do I know you aren’t…enamouredafter accidentally stumbling into the close circle of Étienne Salvador? Because, although that makes me sound like an arrogant prick, it’s a fact of life I encounter almost every day. I believe you won’t spill to the media; I trust you. But I’ve developed a wariness of getting close to new people and with very good reason.”

Global fame for brilliance at something must be very cool, right up until the moment it wasn’t. Not a problem most of us were ever likely to encounter.

I placed our joined hands over my chest. “Shh. Let me tell you something. I’ve never met Étienne Salvador. I’ve seen the football games, for sure. Many times. But I don’t know that person. Salvador never comes to this house. You leave that actbehind the second you pay the toll and drive your car over the island bridge.”

I cast my gaze around the room, at the logs crackling in the fireplace and at the plush cream rug in front. Someday, I’d like to wrestle her onto it. “As far as I’m concerned, this house belongs to Éti Salvador, and Éti Salvador only. And it’s Éti I want. As my girlfriend.” I brushed away a twist of hair obscuring her features. “If she’ll have me. Because I like the way she makes me feel. A lot.”

My heart thudded under our hands. I hoped she felt the same way. If not, then with every passing minute, I was more and more screwed. I hadn’t believed anyone could fall so hard and so fast for someone else, let alone me. But here I was, laying my heart on the line for her. Already.

“Waouh,Nico.”Her voice was a whisper. “Waouh. I feel that way too.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she closed them tight, shaking her head to and fro, chestnut curls dancing, like everything was too much and not enough, all at the same time. I knew exactly how she felt.

Éti’s hand measured smaller than mine, but her grip could crack walnuts. It was on the cusp of shredding all the bones in my fingers.

I nuzzled her shoulder with my chin. “Éti, sweet? You’re crushing my oyster-shucking hand.”

A delightful snort escaped down her nose, and she loosened her hold. Thank God. Trying not to wince, I wiggled my fingers as the blood supply was restored.

“I’m still worried you’re going to touch me and be repulsed.”

I huffed a soft laugh. No chance of that happening. Touching her was all I’d thought about the entire evening at work. I put my mouth close to her ear. “Shall I let you into a secret?” As she nodded, I paused, inhaling her fucking gorgeous scent. “It’s waytoo soon to tell you this, but since we started kissing, I’ve had a boner that could drill holes in concrete.”

Her eyes, wide as saucers, left her own body to peruse mine, my groin specifically. “Ça alors! Have you?”

I shifted under her scrutiny. “Yep.”

“Have you still got one now?”

My face heated; already I regretted opening my mouth. She’d be bloody poking it with a stick next. “Maybe. Although it’s going to wilt pretty sharpish if you keep staring at it like that.”

Naturally, she continued to stare. “So does that mean you want to…”

I cut her off. “Yeah, it does.”On that fucking gorgeous rug.I want to lose you in amongst the cream fluff. “But not yet. Not until you feel comfortable.”

I tangled my fingers with hers, liking the way our hands laced together. “Listen. Doing this—kissing, talking, getting to know each other—is way more important to me than you not having squidgy boobs and the usual bits down below. That’s the truth. They’re just window dressing.”

“You’re…” her words petered out as her intent gaze held mine.

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