Page 42 of Lovers in Lockdown

I relax my grip on her finger, not releasing it, but loosening the hold just enough that I can run my fingertips over her knuckles in tiny circles.

‘Or else,’ she stares me down, ‘I will donkey punch you so motherfucking hard, your eyeballs will explode.’

Well, damn.

I drop her hand, the serious look on her face telling me she’s not kidding. The girl means business and fuck if I’m going to put her threat to the test. So, I let her words linger in the air between us, resisting the urge to bend down and kiss her frustration away. Because,fuck,if she doesn’t look irresistible right now, all pink and mad and strong.

‘Roger that,’ I grin. ‘Solemnly swear. Pinky promise. Scout’s honour.’ I hold up three fingers in salute to show her I’m serious andfinallyshe lets out a breath.

‘Thank you,’ her relief is tangible. I didn’t realise how tense I’ve been for the last twenty minutes until the bones in my shoulders crack as I relax them.

Honey squeezes herself around me, reaching into the cupboard for a mug and then turning on the kettle.

‘Oh, are you making coffee?’ I ask. ‘Yeah, I’d love one, thanks so much for asking.’

I laugh out loud when she frowns and tuts at me, fetching another mug and slamming it down onto the counter so hard, it’s a surprise it doesn’t shatter. But her irritation is good natured. I know because her eyes glint with a playfulness that wasn’t there a few moments ago. Her lips twitch as she fights back a smile and I release a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding, because my sassy, grumpy, little Honey is back. And everything’s okay again.

She passes me the cup of coffee and I take a sip, trying with exhausting effort not to screw my face up and spit the liquid straight back out, becauseholy mother of God,it’s the worst coffee I have ever had.

I’d actually go as far to say that it’s the worstanythingI’ve ever had.

The poor woman really can’t make anything for shit, bless her. It’s a wonder she’s survived adulthood this long.

‘Good?’ she asks and I nod, despite my tastebuds screaming for me to get as far away from this cup of coffee as possible.

But I can’t risk doing anything to put sadness in her eyes again.

That look on her face after I’d asked her to beg for me felt like a stab to my gut. She might be a little crazy and have a fuse shorter than a dachshund's legs, but making her sad again would make me the worst human being on the planet. So, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

And if that means drinking this shitty cup of coffee, then you bet I’m going to lap up every last damn drop.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Honey

It’s been a week since Noah and I nearly kissed again. A week since I realised that I’m only a game to him. A week since he almost caught sight of the painting in my bedroom.

Surprisingly though, things between us have taken a positive turn since all of those shenanigans, and I’ve even been venturing outside of my fortress and spending some actual time with him. For food purposes only though, don’t go getting excited.

There’s only so much bread and butter a girl can eat, and such a bland diet makes for a pretty miserable existence. But,holy shit,his food is just so good. He made a French cassoulet the other night and I swear to God, I nearly creamed my pants.

But spending so much time with him has been a shock to the system. Because that thing between us, that bloody electricity, is always there. Fizzing. Taunting me. Making it pretty damn difficult to ignore, despite my efforts to convince myself that Noah is just an average guy who has absolutely nothing to do with the amount of underwear I have had to wash this week.

Absolutely.

Nothing.

‘You’re rubbing your belly like you’ve got a baby in there,’ Noah grins at me, as I lay sprawled across the couch after another one of his orgasmic meals.

My fingers immediately stop stroking my stomach.

Images of being pregnant with Noah’s baby flash through my mind uncontrollably. Him reaching for my swollen belly to feel the baby kick. Him holding doors open for me to waddle through. His face all proud and beaming as the doctor tells us the sex of the baby.

They leave me breathless.

And when they’re gone, they leave behind an uncomfortable feeling that has me confused. A weird ache. A sinking sensation that feels remarkably like disappointment.

Jesus Christ.

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