Page 18 of The Muse
“It is. Especially the areas tourists don’t know about.”
There's a sadness to Scott’s words, and I wonder if there’s a story behind why.
We carry on with the food, and no matter how I try, this food is just the kind that you need to lick your fingers clean afterwards. And you know what? I don’t care. So what? Scott knew what he was doing. And a part of me wants to antagonise him. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's because no matter what I tell myself, I can’t see the cantankerous critic tonight. Instead, he's a charming and devilishly sexy man who seems to like me.
I catch his eye between a pull of his beer and smile before making sure to lick my forefinger into my mouth and suck it clean.
“Be careful, Ms Castlewood. Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
I pull my finger from my mouth with a pop. “Who said anything about finishing? Unless you’re done for the evening?”
“Not even close, Seffi.”
It's the first time he’s called me by my first name, and it does something to me. My stomach drops, my mouth going dry, and I want to squeeze my thighs together like before.
Nerves attack me because I know I'm playing with fire. Flirting—or at least my attempt at flirting—is all well and good. But I’ve never had sex before. I can’t imagine the same can be said of Scott. And suddenly, I feel like a little girl trying to play with the grown-ups.
“How about a coffee?” Scott asks, snapping me out of my internal panic.
“Yes, thank you.”
A devilish grin spreads over his lips, and I wonder what I just agreed to as he stands, grabs his coat and peels off a few notes to drop on the table.
“What are we doing?” I ask, looking at the half-eaten food on the table.
He puts his hand out for me to take. “Coffee.”
“Oh.” I know what this means. At least, I'm pretty sure he's inviting me back to his place. As I’ve never done this before, I'm reading the subtext between us, which is surprisingly easy, as long as I ignore the very small part of my brain that's flashing a giant warning sign that this is a bad idea.
My hand reaches out for his regardless, and he pulls me up. I snag my coat and feed my arms inside as he’s still pulling us from the restaurant. My heart takes up a fluttering beat as I race to keep up with his long strides. The earlier pain from my feet has vanished and is replaced by a swirling sensation in my stomach. It isn’t the same as the nerves before a performance. I know what I'm doing when I step out on stage. The choreography and moves are memorised with exacting precision. But this … it's new and exciting. I don’t know what will happen, but I know I want to find out.
I haven't been keeping track of our location, but it turns out we were only a few minutes from Scott’s apartment. I recognise the main door I slipped through the other day when someone was coming out, as he keeps my hand secure in his and crosses the street. It makes me look upwards, following the old lines of the modernised Victorian building to the apartment he's in at the top.
He stops short of reaching the door and swings me sideways, looking down at me so intensely it catches my breath. His body backs me up a few feet until the cool brick of the building halts me, but it doesn’t stop Scott moving forward.
He leans in, and I tilt my head slightly, anticipating his kiss.
“If all you want is coffee, keep walking when I open the door, Seffi,” he whispers, before biting the lobe of my ear. A rush of heat sweeps my body, and I bite down on my lip to stop from saying something stupid.
Thankfully, he steps back and takes his keys out, setting about unlocking the door. It’s only a few seconds, and it's a reprieve I should use, but it's also one I don’t need. I might be nervous, and a virgin, and utterly out of my depth, but I want to step inside with Scott more than I've ever wanted anything else.
Screw the consequences.
Chapter Nine
SCOTT
She hovers behind me, closing the distance down rather than continue walking like I said she could. The door swings open and I’ve scooped her to me before she can give it any more thought, my mouth hungry and ravenous for a better taste of her. We both know what’s happening now. It isn’t anything to do with coffee.
Scrambling limbs take us up the stairs, my hands half carrying her the final few flights until she’s got her legs around my waist and I’m fussing with the bloody lock to get us inside. She’s turned and pushed against the wall the second it slams behind us, my weight holding her up as my fingers start picking at the buttons on her top.
She groans and tilts her neck back, exposing her throat to me. Christ, I’m turned on. Every part of me is aching and ready to dive straight over this flesh on offer. It’s all that’s been in my filthy head for the last hour.
Nothing else.
Her hands grab at my shoulders, eyes coming back to look at me as I keep shredding fucking buttons. “Scott?”
If it was a question, I don’t answer. I’m too busy shifting her around and pushing the bra out of the damn way, desperate to get a look at what’s been hiding behind these clothes. Both of her breasts finally come out of their lacy cups—young, pert, and fucking glorious. The nipples are in my mouth immediately, one hand moulding and pushing them so I can suck hard and long. Christ, she tastes good. Ripe, sweet.
