Page 85 of Unfinished Summer

“The swimming costume is not mine. I had no intention of swimming or needing one when I packed,” she says defensively.

“I didn’t say a word.” I hold up my hands before grabbing a towel for myself. It didn’t matter what she wore. Her curves, her skin, her very being were what I wanted. “Come on. Upstairs.”

She follows as we head up to the apartment.

“Do you have something I could change into?” She pulls the towel tighter around her, and I see her vulnerability.

“Sure. I’ll throw some clothes on and grab you a couple of things.” I lead her to one of the barstools in the kitchen before heading into my room.

It’s not about sex right now. It’s about connection and building trust between us, even if my cock has other ideas.

We’re both hurt and healing from our past, both together and apart.

I grab a t-shirt and pair of boxers from my drawer and set them on the bed while I finish towelling off before dressing. And I grab a second pair of boxers and a hoody to take to Zennor.

“Here.” I pass her the clothes. “Use the bedroom. I’ll make us a coffee.” She slides from the stool and pauses to look at me for a moment before standing on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek. Whatever is between us, it’s only growing stronger, and I see it in her eyes before she trails off to the bedroom.

I take an exaggerated breath and don’t follow after her but focus on the coffee.

Making coffee.

Zennor is in my bedroom. Getting naked.

Kettle. Mugs. Coffee.

She steps out from behind the breakfast bar and does a little curtsey to show off my hoodie, just skimming her upper thighs. It looks fucking perfect and gives my imagination a wicked ride. She looks more tempting than ever, and I’m overtaken by the desire to have her in my clothes, in my house, and in my bed, not just for now but for always. But I keep that part to myself.

“Will I do?”

“You have no idea. Come on. Coffee’s getting cold.” I carry the mugs through and place them on the wooden side table before sitting on the new soft suede sofa. Zee joins me and drags the blanket from the back of the sofa over her legs. I can’t help but lift my arm to encourage her to slide next to me, and she does, resting her head on my chest.

We both take in the uninterrupted view, and I’m hit with a feeling of contentment. That, together with the desire that is still pumping through my veins, tells me everything I need to know. I don’t just want Zee here for a moment.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, needing to focus on something other than where my mind has fast-forwarded to.

“This view. It’s funny; it’s so familiar. It’s what I saw every day growing up here, but also something that I didn’t think I’d appreciate again. It’s soothing.”

“It’s why I turned this wall into glass. It would be a tragedy to hide it.”

“And this sofa is ridiculously comfortable.” She snuggles a little into me.

“Honestly, it’s more or less brand new.”

“Well, you have good taste.” She pats my chest, and her fingers graze the bead that’s been around my throat for years. She rubs it over the cotton before sitting up to pull it free from the collar of my t-shirt.

“I can’t believe you’ve kept it for all these years.”

I clasp her hand against the silver and stare into her eyes. The words I long to tell her are right there, but I don’t want to scare her off. “I came back a few years after I left. Went back to the shop and got it put on a silver chain. I never wanted to take it off.”

She leans back down against my chest.

“What happened to your bracelet?”

“I don’t want to say.” She draws circles with her nail over my chest.

“That bad, huh?” From what Zee has said about the time after I left, I’m sure she binned it.

“Can we change the subject? I’m trying really hard not to think about how I felt back then and stay in the moment, here and now, with you.” Her words get fast, and I hear an edge of fear in her voice.

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