Page 112 of The One That I Want

As we climb higher and the view changes, we chat – nothing too serious or too flirty, as I’m hyper aware that there’s another person with us. Catriona tops us up when our glasses are nearing empty, but as discreet as she is, I can’t shake the uncomfortable thought of her watching us together.

When she tops us up a second time – I am going to bedrunkby the time we leave the pod – she offers to take our photo.

‘Oh,’ I say, amazed I hadn’t thought of it myself. ‘That would be lovely.’

Ewan and I both give her our phones and we pose for several photos, his arm around me, his hand resting on my waist and pulling me towards him. When the mini photoshoot is over and he steps away to retrieve our phones, I want to haul him back to me and kiss him –hard.

I don’t, though. I’m not sure I want our first kiss to be in front of Catriona.

The thirty-minute ride comes to an end and, as predicted, I’m giddy from the champagne. Leaving the unopened box of chocolates, we step onto the platform and Ewan takes my hand. Oh, bollocks, we’re still moving.

Yes, Greta, the London Eye doesn’t stop to let off tipsy women.

Of course, I instantly lose my footing and stumble, but Ewan’s got me. He clasps my hand tighter and steadies me.

‘Are you all right?’ he says once we’ve cleared the platform.

‘I’m all right – a little embarrassed.’

‘No need to be – it’s just me,’ he says softly.

It’s just me.

And there it is – another seemingly simple statement that’s loaded with so much more.

Because Ewan has gone from the bloke at the coffee shop who I made small talk with to a friend and dinner companion to this man – this lovely, sexy man – I’m on a date with. And yes, it’s early days – this is just the beginning of us – or at least I hope it is – but I still feel foolish for not having seen it until recently.

At least I see it now.

And – to my utter joy – he seems to feel the same way.

These thoughts fly through my mind in seconds. He’s watching me intently – like I’m watching him – and I couldn’t say who moves first, but suddenly his hands are resting on the small of my back and mine have snaked around his neck, my clutch dangling from one hand.

Our faces mere inches from each other’s, we pause, me looking up at him, him down at me, our breath mingling and our lips parted.

‘You are so gorgeous,’ he whispers.

And I can’t wait a moment longer. I stand on my tiptoes and press my mouth to his.

He embraces me tightly, his fingers digging into the fabric of my trousers, and I tighten my arms around his neck. The kiss is firm, both of us wanting it, wanting each other, and his mouth moves against mine with a sureness I find so incredibly sexy, my whole body is alight. His tongue slips into my mouth, the tip touching mine. When it withdraws, I bite down gently on his lower lip, feeling his mouth stretch into a smile.

Then the kiss deepens and I am lost in the sensations of him – the taste, the smell, the feel of his body against mine, his hands on my back just above my bum, his fingers now splayed.

This is the best kiss of my life.

Eventually, the kiss ends – I was vaguely aware of a passer-by telling us to get a room – and we pull apart, both breathless and grinning.

‘You know, that may just be the best kiss I’ve ever had,’ he says, and I swat him in the chest. ‘Ow, what was that for?’ he asks with a laugh.

‘I was thinking the exact same thing.’

He side-eyes me. ‘You’re not going to get violent every time I say what you’re thinking, are you?’

‘Noteverytime.’

He places a dainty kiss on the end of my nose, which is sweet, but I prefer the other kind of kiss. Then he lifts one hand to rub the back of his neck the way blokes do sometimes when they’re mulling something over or are worried.

‘What’s on your mind?’ I ask, hoping he’ll say something like, ‘Shagging you senseless.’

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