Page 125 of The Grand Duel

I can see the fight still in him. The need to slip between my legs and have sex with me. He wants it. I can see it. Feel it. It’s been building between us all week. But something, something more than a bottle of champagne and a couple of shots, is stopping him tonight.

And that is okay.

“If…if when…”

I smile and frown at once, kind of surprised at how vulnerable he’s being. “Talk to me,” I say, stroking the flat of my hand over his jaw.

His eyes sear through me. “If you still wanted this in the morning, if you were sure…” He swallows. “I wouldn’t think twice. This isn’t a case of not wanting you.”

I bite my bottom lip as my smile breaks, shaking my head. “I know.”

My face is glowing, I can feel it, and I honestly don’t care. I roll over the divide, putting myself back on the left side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” he says to my back.

“Going to sleep.”

Silence.

“Lis.”

“Don’t push me, Aldridge.”

“You owe me a boat, sleeping beauty.”

I smile.

TWENTY-FOUR

Lissie

Iwake only a few hours later to the sound of someone lightly knocking on the door. I go to sit up, but the arm that wraps around my middle stops me.

With the sun only just peeking through the small window, I settle back down to the mattress, twisting my head over my shoulder. Charles is asleep on my pillow, his long body moulded to my side and his arm slung over my waist, tucking in under my breast.

I smile and gently drop my head back to the pillow next to his, careful not to wake him.

I’m not sure who’s at the door or if they hold any importance to myself or Charles, but you couldn’t pay me to move right now.

Pushing back into his warmth, I close my eyes and allow myself to revel in something I’ve not experienced in a long time. A hug. It’s odd because I haven’t craved it. Only really missed it when thinking about Jovie or when wishing my mum would rock up out of the blue and hold me like a mother holds their child. I’ve had one-night stands where they’ve lay there for a whileafter but only ever under the guise of “thanks for the orgasm,” and those types of hugs don’t really mean as much.

So, I’ve definitely been held in the three years since Jove left, but I don’t think I’ve had a hug in a really long time.

And the only way I can differentiate the two is that it isn’t about the arms, the body, the warmth—that makes me feel so, so good. It’s about the person. It’s my sister. My mum—no matter how much I hate her now. And it’s a man who last night made me feel safe enough to speak.

A man whose actions go beyond his arms, body, and warmth.

I don’t feel good right now because I’m being hugged for the first time in a really long time. I’m feeling good right now because Charles Aldridge asked the questions, listened to the answers, and then stuck around after.

I think the unexpectedness of that might have my head in a spin, but I don’t think I could ever grow sick of this feeling.

I sigh, and he stirs at my back.

I hold my breath, waiting for the moment he realises where he is and who I am, but it doesn’t come. His arm might retract slightly, making my breath catch, but his body only presses impossibly closer. And then his hand is finding a new spot, buried between my ribs and the mattress, his nose dusting the back of my neck.

“Morning, Lis.”

I back into him and smile. “It’s a good morning, Charles.”

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