Page 52 of Milo
Hope twists in my heart. “Has he?” Then I slump. “No, I think you’re seeing things. We’re just fucking at the moment. It doesn’t mean anything. If there’s softness there it’s because of who I am in relation to Gideon, not for myself. Niall has never seen me as anything other than a little brother.”
“I think that’s more of a plot forHollyoaks,” he says primly, then sighs. “You’re wrong. Out of everyone, Niall has always seen you clearer than anyone. It’s like he has X-ray specs just for someone called Milo Ramsay.”
“Well, I hope he’s taken them off while he fucks my brother and Jacinta tonight, or it might make things uncomfortable,” I say sourly.
He gets off the sofa and bends over to kiss my head. “While that sounds like a Jackie Collins novel, we both know that won’t be happening tonight.”
“How?” I mutter but he just shakes his head.
“I’m off. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”
“Oh, will we?” I shout after him. “Maybe that won’t happen.”
“It will,” his voice floats up the stairs before there’s a click and the door shuts at the bottom of the stairs.
It takes me a long while to go to sleep that night. I twist and turn on the mattress as if it’s made of stone while my mind races and twists down labyrinthine paths. That’s probably why it takes me a second to realise that the lamp switching on in my room isn’t part of my dreams.
I sit up, blinking and pushing the covers away before scraping my hair back from my face. Then I gape at the figure at the bottom of the bed. “What are you doing here?”
Niall pauses where he’s taking off his jeans. He’s already managed his jumper and the light dances over his hard, muscled chest. “You’re here, aren’t you?” he says somewhat crossly.
“I don’t understand,” I say blearily, watching as he flings his jeans over the sofa and slides into bed next to me.
He looks around. “This bloody place,” he mutters. “It’s like Helena Bonham Carter decided to take up interior decorating forThe Swiss Family Robinson.”
“And yet here you are, rather than in your white and grey bedroom in the white and grey house.”
He eases next to me and raises one eyebrow. “That sounds like a subtle hint?”
“If a subtle hint means saying that you have the decorating ability of a Travelodge decorator, then yes, it’s subtle.”
“Ouch!” His mouth quirks and he nestles closer, pushing me gently onto my side and snuggling up behind me. I can feel all his long, warm body against mine and his arm is a heavy weight across my hips. I feel my body unravel the tension in it as if I’ve got into a hot bath.
“Mmm,” he says hoarsely. “That’s more like it.”
“Why are you not in your own bed?” I pause. “Is it too full for you?”
“That’s very catty.” His voice is sleepy and curiously pleased, but his arm tightens so I can’t turn and see his face. “Settle down,” he grunts. “I need to sleep.”
“In here?”
“Yes. This is where you are. So, if I want to sleep that’s where I must be.” He settles into the mattress and me with a soft grunt of pleasure. “I can’t seem to sleep without you at the moment.”
The darkness makes me brave. “I know,” I whisper. “I’m the same. What does it mean?”
His body goes tight against mine as if I’ve taken him by surprise, and his voice when he speaks is cautious. “Why don’t we just take it as a fact. Don’t overanalyse, Milo. You’ll only see problems that way.”
I know there are tons of things wrong with that statement but because it echoes my own need to hide my head in the sand, I adopt his suggestion. “Where’s Gideon?” I whisper.
His arm tightens almost painfully, and I murmur a complaint. He relaxes immediately and kisses my shoulder in a sweet gesture that’s so very him despite his sardonic exterior. He’s actually one of the sweetest men I’ve ever met.
“He’s back at my house in the guest bedroom.”
“Did you?”
His indrawn breath stops my words. “That you could think that.”
I grab his arm and squeeze it. “I’m sorry,” I say immediately. “I know you wouldn’t.” And I do. It’s not him. No matter what Niall is, he’s honest. It can be brutal, but he always tells the truth.
