Page 38 of When London Snow Falls

I laugh and turn to kiss him properly before setting to work again on the tea. I reach for the battered Earl Grey blend tin. “All right. Better yet, I can get Jasmine to make you one at the café. She’s working this afternoon. We can stop by.”

“’Kay,” he says. “What are your plans today, anyway?”

Shit, he’d have to mention reality.Well, fuck you, reality. I’m enjoying this hiatus from my regularly scheduled life.

“Plans?” What, there’s a world beyond this dreamy one, beyond this robin’s-egg-blue kitchen with red mugs and teapots set out on the wood counter? Beyond Ben’s equally blue eyes? Distantly, I recall I have band rehearsal later in the evening. That’s an eternity away: hours and hours. A lifetime. A little longer here wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“Nothing today,” I say. “Not till after supper. I’ll work on my essays another time.”

He brightens. “Spend the day with me doing things that don’t matter? Just hanging out?”

“Like you even need to ask.”

We kiss again. It’s kind of ridiculously soppy, but Jasmine’s not here to give me a hard time about it, and he’s so delicious, I’m going to be damn greedy with my kisses. And we have to do something while the tea steeps, don’t we? These stolen minutes need to be taken advantage of.

As my hand slides inside Ben’s boxers to tease him, he lets out a soft whimper.

Before long, I’m on my knees with his cock in my mouth. His hands clutch my hair as he sobs out, leaning back against the fridge—a brilliant way to start the day.

My mouth works in rhythm with his thrusts and then he’s whimpering, pulling desperately on my hair until he cries out and erupts intensely all over my hand and floor. Then he sags against the fridge while I gaze up at him and swallow, licking my lips.

“Mmm,” I say.

He’s flushed under his freckles, his blond hair a mess from earlier. For once, he doesn’t have any witty comebacks as his pale thighs tremble, thermals around his knees, and he tries to catch his breath.

Grinning at his stunned expression, I rise to give him a kiss. “There. And I think your tea’s about ready, too.”

Ben tries to pull himself together as I pour and follow the usual tea rituals, following directions that could be in his grimoire: let the tea steep for a generous five minutes, warm the mugs, pour the tea, add two spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of milk, five stirs. I serve it with a flourish, then I repeat the same for myself after letting it steep a little longer to my taste. But Ben’s cream lingering on my tongue is the real secret ingredient.

He sighs his approval, blissed out. “I’ll keep you.”

“Naturally.”

We grin at each other, transfixed, even though my guts twist.

Don’t think. Don’t ruin this moment.

I’ll let myself have today with Ben, at least for a few more hours. What would I do at home but torture myself with the memory of last night anyway? There’ll be plenty of time later for self-flagellation and the careful eradication of Scottish-related memories as needed. This kind of self-indulgence is what has gotten me in trouble before. My judgment isn’t for trusting. But right now, this feels so good.

Then, Ben grabs my hand and in a haze we take our tea back to bed. To make sure the cream’s fresh, of course.

Chapter Sixteen

Ben has a glint in his eye and snowflakes on his fringe when he takes my hand to crunch through snow in Islington. We skirt past his neighbor brushing snow off his car with a broom. There’s a fair bit of the white stuff for London, and transport’s suitably fucked today, but we’re not going anywhere far that needs a tube or train. We managed a short bus ride to get this far. I’m not sure exactly where we’re going, but Ben’s excited.

“You still won’t tell me where we’re headed?” I ask, reaching out to tug the pompom of his wool fair isle hat in blues and greens that draw out his eyes.

“Nope.” He swats at me lightly, grinning. “Not terribly far, though.”

We keep going. He draws me into a lane of shops, stealing a kiss beneath a snowy black awning.

“So greedy,” I murmur.

It’s hard to think of a time before Ben, but it’s only been three days. Well, three days since the third Saturday in a row when we kissed in the snow in front of the café. Damn, I have it bad already. No wonder Jasmine’s been relentless. I’ve become more of a space cadet at work than usual. It’s impossible to concentrate on uni with someone like Ben careening into my life. There has to be a calibration period, and I think he feels the same way about me. We’re practically giddy. I move in to kiss him back.

“Mmm, hold that thought. There’s something I want you to see. But you can’t peek. I’ll guide you—shut your eyes.”

“Shut my eyes?”

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