Page 78 of Two to Tango

‘I’ll see if she’s free tomorrow.’ He turns me to face him and takes the tie from my hair, letting the loose tendrils fall onto my shoulders. As he strokes his fingers through my locks and presses his lips to my neck, I roll my head to the side and close my eyes, indulging in his touch.

‘I missed you,’ he whispers against my ear, taking the lobe between his teeth.

I slide my hands beneath his shirt, craving the feel of his firm torso and the press of his warm skin against my fingertips. ‘I missed you too.’

‘I’d like to take you to my bed.’

I answer him by pressing my lips to his. There’s something about this kiss that’s different from before. Less frantic, sweeter, deeper somehow. Or perhaps it’s the way it is making me feel, as if there’s no room for anything more in my chest before it has got to explode.

He breaks our contact, taking my hand in his and leading me down the corridor to his bedroom. It’s much bigger than mine and has a large en suite. He lights up the room, then dims the lights. He moves to the bed and sits, tugging me so I’m standing in front of him, between his open legs.

I reach down to his face and stroke the coarse hair around his jaw, the soft crinkles at the sides of his eyes, the straight line of his nose.

His eyes are fixed on mine as he hooks his fingers inside my yoga pants and knickers—fresh on after showering in the gym, just in case. He draws them down an inch and makes me hiss my next breath as his teeth and lips connect with the sensitive flesh over my hipbone. He tugs them another inch, then another.

Afterwards, he collapses onto my chest and I hold him tightly to me, feeling his heat, listening to his every breath in my ear, my heart beating with his.

We were in it together, like I was an extension of him. Everything about his touch was tender, gentle, loving. He made me feel adored, cherished.

I want to be an extension of him. I want to always be with him.

28

BROOKS

Day 12

‘Why have you stopped here?’

Izzy looks through the windows of the truck at our surroundings, on the edge of the cul-de-sac where I usually pick up Cady.

‘She lives just down there. This is where I pick her up.’

‘But it’s raining, Brooks.’

Her words irritate me. This is the routine. This is what we do.

‘She’ll have an umbrella, Izzy. It’s only water. Here she is.’

Cady runs with an umbrella over her head, her brown bob bouncing. Her usual skater dress has been replaced by skinny jeans, but the staple black leather jacket has made the cut. She makes for the front passenger door, then remembers we have company today and jumps into the backseat, dumping her overnight bag next to her and the umbrella in the footwell.

‘Already relegated to the backseat. Fast mover, Dad. Next you’ll be shipping me off to college.’

‘Or telling you to drive yourself into the city,’ I say, turning to look at her.

‘I’m working on that. Too many things happening at the same time. You know I’ve never been coordinated. So, you must be Izzy.’

Izzy peers between the seats. I can tell from her tentative smile and the way she’s fiddling with her fingers in her lap that she’s nervous.

‘Hi, Cady, it’s really nice to meet you. And, erm, before we go anywhere, I just want to say, I’m really sorry about the blog post.’

Cady shrugs. ‘It was a shitty thing to do, but he shouldn’t have pretended I don’t exist. So, now that’s over, where are we going for lunch? Are you two going to be all lettuce leaves and shakes? Because I would love a burger.’

Izzy and I look at each other, then back to Cady and we all smile, the tension in the car fading in an instant.

‘Izzy is definitely allowed a burger.’

Izzy sucks in a breath and pouts, as if she’s struggling with a conundrum. ‘You can have a chicken burger. No bun, no skin. And sweet potato fries.’

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