“Usually, I carried them into the bathroom for a wash then carried them back to finish breakfast, dinner or general mayhem.”
Some of his words get lost in a dreamy nervous heat coming from the touch of his hand. Not even my autopilot can function properly. “I’m too heavy for you to carry.”
Lame. And flirty.
And my voice is all breathy, because the way he’s looking at me… Oh God, it’s as if he’s seeing me for the first time.
Then that thing happens in his eyes again. A change. As if we’ve stepped into a different world.
His glance trails down to my legs. The water has got into my sandals, soaking into the sole.
Very deliberately he unfolds my leg and takes my foot on his lap. Pulling a tissue from the box, he slowly wipes the liquid from my ankle and around my heel, unstraps my sandal and slides it off.
I watch completely speechless, as if in a trance, while he dries everything carefully, gently, as if my skin is a lily that might bruise.
He then wraps it in his warm, warm hand, palm against my sole. My entire body has gone boneless.
“I don’t…” He has to clear his throat but it still comes out low and hoarse and oh, so rich. “I don’t think I’ve ever held anything half as nice.” His other hand comes to circle my ankle, then he sighs deeply, the kind of sigh when you’re giving in after a long fight.
“Is this okay?” he asks, so softly, it’s like a whisper that I feel all over my skin and into my insides.
“Yes.” A small, small sound.
He glances up to meet my eyes with his dark blue eyes, which for the first time look like a deep raging sea that can drown me. My foot is no longer on his lap; somehow he has moved up onto his knees on the sofa, and so have I. He catches me in strong arms that cradle me so protectively, like a precious delicate flower.
His kisses trace a burning path up my throat, around my cheek, softly over my eyelids, and finally down to my mouth. A kiss that goes on for so long, maybe a year. When we stop to breathe, I’m on my back and he’s heavy over me. We both reach for each other’s shirts, he to unbutton mine, I to pull his over his head and finally, finally, oh God, finally, see his chest naked. I want to touch him all over, to slide my hands over his shoulders and down his golden skin, the scattering of hair at the base of his breastbone, the way his abs clench. He too is all over my chest. Hungry.
A small pause; he lifts his head, eyes glazed. “We should move. You deserve better than the sofa. I have a king-sized bed inside and good sheets.”
“Good. I’m not a fan of leather furniture,” I tease. Where has this humour come from? I feel happy, free. No need for autopilot to speak for me. All my consciousness is at one with my heart and mind. It’s as if I’m finally myself.
“You don’t like leather?” Osian picks me up and we’re off the sofa, on our feet. “I’ll buy a new sofa tomorrow, first thing in the morning.” He half-chuckles. The same release that makes me laugh.
We take a moment for another kiss, which also takes about a year. At the end, he kisses along my cheek and jaw. “Oh, my Evangeline...” he says between kisses. “Promise me this will not ruin us.”
I brush both hands through his hair. “Of course not.”
“You have no idea how important you are to me. Please promise me what we do tonight will not spoil things.”
I don’t understand, but I kiss his face, trying to reassure him.
“Tomorrow?” he groans. “We will still be friends. This will not damage our friendship.”
Chapter Forty-three
I understand. Finally. Because I’m no longer in his arms; I’m a two feet away.
“You mean this is a one-night stand?” My voice is a scrape of disbelief.
The answering look in his eyes says something like ‘well, yes, of course’.
“I thought…” How do I say this? How, without sounding needy? “I thought we were moving forward.”
He steps back. A clear answer. “Evie? You know,” he says, almost begging for understanding. “You know I can’t.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I have to blink very fast to stop them. “When we talked about your sister, I thought you understood. People change over the span of years. I thought…”
He looks shocked. As if I’m asking him to change into a criminal.
