Page 17 of One Last Touch

I took it from him suspiciously, sniffing it and then taking a small very hot sip. “Did you poison it?”

“No.” His forehead furrowed and it even looked like there was genuine hurt in his eyes.

“Well, then, thank you. Now unless you’re here to tell me what’s going on around here, get out.”

“Georgina—” His voice sounded oddly strangled and I looked up from the leg I’d been moisturising to see him focused intently on my skin.

“If you’re staying, then close the door. You’re letting all the warm air out. If you’re not, then speak quickly, because I have a lot more surface to cover,” I said, wiggling the bottle at him and feeling a flush take over me when something like hunger flashed across his face. “I’m not kidding.”

He laughed lightly and then spluttered when I dropped my towel. “What are you—you’re naked.”

“That is generally how you shower, yeah. If it bothers you, then close your eyes. Or turn around.”

I watched him swallow hard and fight to keep his eyes above my shoulders and couldn’t help the smugness I felt. He deserved a little punishment for watching me so knowingly whenever I got distracted by his arm muscles.

I reached for my bottle of moisturiser and the sound that left him might have been a whimper.

“What are you doing?”

I paused with the cream in the palm of my hand and my other leg propped up on the edge of my bed. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re about to touch yourself in front of me.” His eyes went wide. “I mean, not touch yourself, but like rub—I mean—”

I bit my lip and looked down so he wouldn’t see my smile.

“Georgina,” he said warningly and when I looked up he’d taken a step closer to me. “Stop.”

I shrugged lightly and watched his eyes dip for a second before he jerked his head back up. “If I don’t moisturise my skin will get dry, it’s been getting so cold up here the past few days.”

Sage followed the movement of my hand as it glided over and around one thigh and calf and then the other. His hands clenched and unclenched at his side as I added more cream to my palm and smoothed it over my stomach, up and over my breasts and it was at this point that he lost it completely.

“Fine,” he bit out. “I’m leaving.”

I laughed under my breath as I continued smoothing on the shea butter. “Thanks for the tea.”

He paused in the doorway, the muscles in his back and shoulders tense, and for a second I’d thought he might turn around, come back inside the room and touch me. The moment passed and my mirror rattled on the vanity as he slammed the door.

Good. He was being stupid.

I heard the front door slam and walked calmly over to my window to watch him stalk outside and lean against the fountain heavily, back bowed as he gripped the stone like he might crack it in two.

“FUCK,” I heard him shout and barely held in my laugh as I smiled. He liked me, but he didn’t want to like me, I realised. And that, in and of itself, was the most stupid thing I’d ever heard.

Fuck, indeed.

Chapter Nine

There was water all around me. I could feel it washing over my skin, lapping up to my chin, climbing over my mouth, my nose. I coughed and the sound startled me. I hadn’t realised my eyes were closed until I opened them and saw nothing but darkness, was I still in the depths? Had it been a dream?

“Shh, sweetheart. You’re okay.”

It was a voice I’d know anywhere. I licked my dry lips and convinced my voice to work. “Mum?” I called out feebly.

She hummed idly, a song she’d always murmured whenever I’d had a bad dream, lulling me back off to sleep so smoothly I could hardly remember being awake in the night.

“Am I dreaming?”

The humming stopped and suddenly I could see her eyes, deep and blue, staring at me from above. “I rather think you must be.”

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