Page 58 of Wilder at Heart
He puts his forehead to mine, breathing heavily, his voice low so only I can hear. ‘I’m not trying to get in your knickers, okay? I know you’re not up for sex. I know we have to survive being in the same bed tonight, and I’m going to behave. I promise you. Because I heard what you said last weekend, and I know I’m not part of your plan. But right now’—he exhales and pulls away enough to look me in the eye—‘I would fucking love to kiss you. So what do you say?’
I don’t say anything. I slide a hand up his neck and along his jaw, dragging my thumb over his beard, and I press my mouth against his. And I don’t know if it’s because we’re suspended in the water, or because he’s already acknowledged that he won’t try to escalate this, but this kiss is dreamy. Slow. Indulgent. The contrast between the wet warmth of his mouth and the cool, damp skin of his face and body is heaven.
This man is beautiful. Physical perfection—there’s no doubt about that. And I now know, from having lived with him for a few weeks, that he’s also kind and funny and thoughtful. If he ever decides to pull himself together and stop playing the field, he’ll make someone a fantastic boyfriend one day. Or husband. But for now, we’re using each other to get a fix of the high a really excellent kiss can deliver.
Theo’s hands begin to move on my body. One comes up to my neck and squeezes in a possessive gesture that serves to crush our faces even closer together. The other comes under my bum and hoists me up further against him, so his face is tilted up towards mine. His fingers skid over the hem of my bikini bottoms and dig into my cheeks, while mine skate overthe glorious, slippery domes of his shoulders and my boobs rest against his chest.
We kiss on and on, and reality starts to shift so there’s not much else besides this man’s mouth on mine, his tongue chasing and entrapping my tongue, and the water lapping around us as we explore each other’s bodies in a way that’s leisurely. Decadent.
That is, until someone wolf whistles and Eddie calls: ‘Get a room, for fuck’s sake!’
We break apart and laugh. My laugh is slightly mortified, and even Theo looks a bit sheepish. He settles his other hand under my bum, holding me securely.
I pull back, lay my palms on his chest, and grin at him. ‘That was pretty hot.’
‘It was.’ He smirks, but there’s a tenderness there, too.
‘Listen. I think it’s best if I get myself to bed. I want to make sure tomorrow goes smoothly, and there are too many very enjoyable distractions here.’
I’m expecting him to start hustling me again, but he nods. ‘Sounds good. You go get some shut-eye. I’ll be quiet when I come to bed.’
There’s something intimate about what he’s just said that gives me a wistful twinge. Like we’re an established couple and him joining me in bed is a regular occurrence.
But we’re not, and it’s not.
It’s something we’ve got to get through tonight.
I give him a kiss on the cheek and hoist myself out of the pool.
CHAPTER 23
Theo
Ihave a seriously crap night’s sleep. When I turn in, Nora’s either asleep or pretending to be, plastered to the far side of the bed. I note with amusement that she’s stuffed a pillow down the middle. No problem—it’s a super king and there’s plenty of space—but it would be nice if she wasn’t so bloody desperate to stay away from me.
I know it’s not that she doesn’t want me. She wants me too much, just like I want her, but she’s sticking to some ridiculous, totally made-up rule book that only makes sense in Nora-ville and shooting both of us in the foot in the process. That kiss in the pool was everything I love in a kiss. Charged. Effortless. Sensual. And Nora fucking knows it.
She knows that’s not normal.
I’m so busy trying to stay away from her that I sleep fitfully, and when I wake up to the first strains of dawn, I know I’m not getting any more shut-eye. She’s still safely across the bed, but she’s lying on her side, facing me, her hair swept over one bare, golden shoulder and a look on her face that’s so open, so trusting, and so different from the armoured-up expression she usually wears that it tugs at my heartstrings.
I could roll over so easily. Pull her to me, and surprise her in that first flush of wakefulness, when her body tells her what it wants, but her brain isn’t alert enough to warn her off. But that would be too fucked up even for me, given she’s explicitly told meno, so instead, I go for the only other viable option. A run. To sweat out last night’s booze and run off my sexual frustration.
I creep into the bathroom and pull on running shorts, socks, and trainers. It’ll be too warm for anything else. And as I pound the uneven paths that meander around the cape, the flush of sunrise easing over the sea and deepening the hues, I congratulate myself on having made the right call. Just one more night to go. I can keep my dick in my pants for one more night, and then at least I’ll be able to close my bedroom door and shut out temptation. The temptation of how easily her body slithered around mine in the pool. How naturally we moved together. How effortlessly I got lost in the taste of her mouth, the suppleness of her lips.
I’m wrecked by the time I get back to the hotel. It’s still silent: no surprise after how much booze everyone consumed last night. My little brother will be feeling the effects this morning. It’s like parenthood takes your alcohol tolerance right back to that of a teenager. I look forward to ripping the piss out of him later.
That makes me chuckle, and I’m still sniggering to myself as I let myself quietly into our room in case Nora’s asleep. But she’s not. The bed’s empty, and the bathroom door is shut. I need a towel or a shower. I stink and I’m fucking drenched. I grab a bottle of mineral water from the little fridge and crack it open, chugging it down. Bloody hell, that’s good.
I yell in the direction of the bathroom. ‘Belle? Bring me out a hand towel when you’re done, will you?’
I’m bent over against the chest of drawers, my hands gripping the lip as I stretch out my calves and hamstrings, whenthe bathroom door opens. Nora appears in a thin cotton robe, her hair damp and twisted over one shoulder, her face scrubbed clean. She has a towel in her hand.
She walks towards me slowly, and there’s something in her eyes I can’t quite grasp as she approaches. She’s staring at me, for some reason. She’s so beautiful my breath catches. I straighten up and hold out my hand for the towel as I appraise her.
She chucks the towel at me.
‘I give up.’ There’s utter capitulation in her voice.
