Page 61 of Take My Breath Away
I study him as his gaze drops to our entwined hands. My heart beat’s ramped up and is in danger of smashing through my ribs. Despite the moment of playfulness, I’ve no idea what he’s going to say.
He’s been through a bad time with a man.
He wants to reset his life.
He wants to make a new start, miles and miles away.
It was a one-off, all about the time, the place, and the sea air.
He could say all of those things, and I’d accept them because I’d have no other option.
“No, I could never regret what happened. Ever.” His eyes, bright and clear and beautiful, so beautiful they take my breath away, meet mine. “I—I’ve never felt so cared for. You made me feel that, James. You.”
A soft pink washes over his face, but he holds my gaze.
I lean across, closing the small gap between us. I let go of his hands, and cup his face in between my palms, tilting his head up. His steady gaze never falters.
“Then let’s never regret any of it.” I whisper the words against his lips, which are softening, opening.
We kiss long and deep, slow and tender. It’s dizzying, breathtaking, intoxicating. It’s frightening and exhilarating. It’s like nothing I’ve known, and everything I want to know.
Just like I know without knowing that something inside of me has clicked into place, that the world I know has tilted on its axis, and that nothing, ever, can be the same again.
Chapter Twenty-Six
PERRY
“Bloody nightmare of a journey. So glad we’re home.” James pushes the door closed with a hard thud. “Come on, let’s get something to eat,” he says, as he picks up the post scattered on the mat before heading to the kitchen, with me in his wake.
It’s taken an extra couple of hours to get back from Devon, and we’re hungry and tired. Well, I am. I’m hungry for James, and exhausted, even though we’ve spent most of our stay in Love’s Harbour not exploring the beautiful countryside or the stunning coastline but in bed, where we’ve been exploring each other.
In the kitchen James leans against the sink, legs crossed at the ankles, as he scrolls through his phone.
He’s wearing old and faded jeans, and a moss green shirt, the same colour as his eyes. Like the jeans, it’s loose and well worn, the cuffs a little frayed, the antithesis of the sharp suited, urbane man he shows to the world. It’s yet another layer of who he is. It’s not just what he’s wearing that’s so different, but him. His hair, always groomed and immaculate, is messy and mussed. My stomach floods with warmth, as my dick begins to stir. I’ve spent the weekend running my hands through it, sometimes slowly and gently but mostly I’ve grabbed at it, scrunching it in my fists as he’s—
“Perry? What one do you want?”
“Sorry? What do I…?
He’s staring at me, one brow arched, a knowing smile on his face.
“Do you want it hot and meaty?”
“Ehhrr…?”
“The pizza? The Hot and Meaty?” The smile’s turned into a shit eating grin.
“Oh, yes. Of course. Please.”
James throws me a wink, and finishes off the food order, and I sink down into a chair, my legs weak and wobbly all of a sudden.
“You open up a couple of beers, and I’ll take the luggage up.” He pushes his mobile into his pocket, and disappears out of the kitchen.
I do as he asks. The kitchen, the heart of the house, is silent, except for the gurgle of the fridge. Pizza and beer. We’ve sat here in the kitchen many times sharing both, but this time is different. In the course of a couple of days everything has changed between us. I scrape my nail down the label on the bottle, soggy with condensation, leaving a little shredded pile of paper on the table.
But, has anything really, truly, and fundamentally changed? It’s a question I need to ask myself and answer with honesty.
James’ kisses, his touch, the feel of his body, warm and naked and entwined with mine, it thrilled every part of me, but most of all it thrilled my heart. But now we’re back, to our day-to-day lives, and the bubble of the weekend has burst.
