Page 60 of Take My Breath Away
The sun’s just coming up, and I make myself another coffee and gaze out at the little back garden and beyond, to the hill above the village where Perry and I had shared a kiss so warm and tender just the memory of it makes my heart soar.
I hadn’t meant to seduce him, or that’s what I tell myself, but who seduced who is open to debate. A noise, a thump, that could be from the cottage next door, but I know isn’t, has me looking up at the ceiling. My heart thumps hard in response. Perry’s awake and up, and soon he’ll be coming downstairs. My hold on the mug tightens. I’m nervous, and that’s quite the confession, coming from a man in his fifties who’s been around the block so many times I’ve all but worn a groove in the ground. I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm the nerves I’ve never had before, and only just in time as the kitchen door swings open.
“Morning. Did you have a good night’s sleep?”
Oh, Christ…My shoulders hunch as I cringe at my question. I sound like the proprietor of a B&B enquiring after a guest. Perry smiles, but it’s small and tight, and there’s confusion in his dark eyes.
“Yes, thank you.” He looks away, his grip on the door handle so tight I can see the whites of his knuckles. I take a deep breath, because we have to start again.
“Perry, come and sit down.” I nod to the table. No matter how nervy I’m feeling, he’s a thousand times worse.
He hesitates, and for a moment I have the horrifying thought he’s going to shake his head and turn away, but he doesn’t. I join him at the table, with no idea what to say but knowing I have to say something.
“Perry—”
“James—”
We speak at once, before we both fall silent. He’s staring at me, and I’m staring back, both of us blinking like we’ve been dragged from the dark into the light.
“Last night—”
“About yesterday—”
We’ve done it again, and it’s what we need to break free of the weird tension that’s roped itself around us. A small smile breaks across Perry’s face, little more than a twitch of lips.
“You first,” he says. The smile’s still there. It’s a little unsure, a little hesitant, but it’s there, and it’s all I need for the butterflies in my stomach to land and be still.
“I never planned what happened. Coming away like this, it was never meant to be some kind of seduction. I want you to understand that.”
Seduction. Perry seduced me long ago, but it had nothing to do with sex.
“No,” he says slowly, as though he’s thinking his next words through. “I don’t believe for a moment it was planned, because that would be calculated, I suppose. Fundamentally dishonest.”
“What?” His words are a punch in the chest, knocking the air from my lungs. That makes me sound like a — no, I really don’t want to think how that makes me sound, because it’s not true.
“And you’re not those things, I know that. We should put down what happened to circumstances. The time and the place, or the sea air.”
“The time and the place? The sea air?” I’m gawping at him, as I parrot his words back to him. This isn’t going how I expected, not that I knew what to expect. This boy has pushed me so far out of my depths, I’m in danger of drowning. I need to get back to shore, and quickly.
“It had nothing to do with the sea air, Perry. I’m not sorry about what happened, not sorry at all. I don’t regret a thing. I don’t regret what we did last night. I don’t regret us falling asleep in each other’s arms, just like I don’t regret watching you as you slept and—”
“You were watching me?” He tilts his head, and peers at me, like I’m a bug under a microscope. I’m so used to being in control, but this is all running away from me, too fast for me to catch.
“Yes. No. Oh, bloody hell.” I throw my head back, squeezing my eyes closed as I push my fingers through my hair. It’s all coming out wrong. I’ve made myself sound like some kind of obsessive, and if he decides to pack his bag and jump on the first train back to London, I’ve nobody but myself to blame.
“You do realise that makes you sound like a perv, don’t you?”
I open my eyes and let my hands drop to the table. There’s laughter in his voice and in his eyes. “But then I said you were a kinky fucker, didn’t I, when you found me in the café?”
He’s trying not to laugh, he’s trying so hard. The little sod is playing with me and enjoying every moment.
I shrug. “I can neither confirm nor deny my level of kinky fuckery.”
He shakes his head and laughs, the sound light, and I join in. It’s everything we need to put us at ease and sweep away any lingering awkwardness. But there’s more I need, and want, to say, and I’m determined to do it. I take his hand, and he lets it rest in mine.
“There’s no way in this world I would ever take back what happened last night, but I need to know whether or not you feel the same way?”
In the clear light of morning, without the fog of lust. If he says no, I don’t have a clue what I’ll do.
