‘And what if I say no?’
He crawls onto the bed and lies above me, all dark jeans and tight, black t-shirt, with twinkling irises gazing down at me.
‘You won’t,’ he says, his minty breath too close, making it difficult for me to find sensibility.
‘Oh, really?’
‘Really, because I happen to know you can’t resist me.’
I have to force my hands to stay by my side instead of going rummaging under his T-shirt. ‘Hmm, you’ve got me. It’s your modesty; I’m so hot for it.’
In one fast move, he pins my hands to my sides with his legs and thrusts his tickling fingers under my arms.
‘Get off me, Gregory! Get off me!’
I squirm beneath him but he doesn’t relent. My squirms turn to screams and as his tickling increases, a belly laugh takes over my body. I’m heaving and panting but he still keeps going. ‘Stop! Please, stop!’
He halts his assault and I heave air into my chest. ‘Will you quit with the attitude?’
‘I don’t have an attitude!’
‘Wrong answer.’ The tickle torture recommences. His fingers are attacking my skin again and I’m squealing in response until the squealing turns back into a rib-aching laugh.
‘Stop! Please! Stop it!’
‘Will you be nice to me?’ This time, he won’t give me a second to think; his fingers continue driving my fit of giggles.God,it feels good to laugh.
‘Yes! Yes. I’ll be nice to you.’
He flashes me his most mischievous grin, white, perfect teeth and all. ‘Good girl. Come on.’ He jumps off the bed and offers me a hand.
‘What’re we doing?’
‘Youare going to get dressed.’ He pulls me towards him and drops a kiss on the tip of my nose. ‘Then I’m going to take you home and make all of this up to you. Today is all about Scarlett.’
‘You mean, you’re apologising to me?’
He cocks his head to one side on a playful pout. ‘Do I need to show you who’s boss again?’
I shake my head quickly. ‘So do I get to choose what we do?’
‘Erm, no. I said today is allaboutScarlett, notup toScarlett. But don’t worry; I plan on making up to youallday. What else are Sundays for?’
Sunday. Day eight.
‘What’s wrong, baby?’
‘Nothing… I was just thinking?—’
‘That John Harrison told us five to seven days. I know.’
‘How can you be so calm?’
‘It’s life, Scarlett.’
‘I’m not even going to pretend I understand that comment.’
‘Look at me. Stop biting your lip. Tell me what else John said.’
