He winces. “You spent three hours a day travelling?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t afford to live any closer to London. The tube would have made it faster, but I preferred the bus.”
“I can’t imagine spending that much time commuting to work.”
I shrug. “It’s par for the course when you work in London.”
“I guess. You want to go back to that?”
I pick up the second slice of toast and stare at it. “I don’t have much choice. London is where I need to be.” I take a bite. The trouble with toast is it goes cold too quickly. It’s still nice, though. “You must have to travel to work.”
“Sometimes, but most of our jobs are fairly local. Plus, I have a car.”
“I wouldn’t want to drive anywhere near central London.”
He grimaces. “Nor me. Not that I’ve ever been to London.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You’ve never been?”
“Nope.”
“Wow.”
“Had you before you went to uni there?”
I finish the second slice of toast and lick butter off my fingers. “Yes. I went on a day trip at the end of my last year of primary school. We went on the train, did loads of touristy stuff, and even got to see a show. It was amazing.”
Kyle tucks my damp hair behind my ear. “I can tell by how bright your eyes are shining.”
My cheeks get hot. I take his empty plate from him. “I’ll wash up.”
I jump up and wander to the sink. It takes a minute to wash the plates and a knife in soapy water. As I finish, Kyle stands behind me, puts his hands on my waist, and kisses my neck.
“You look sexy in my clothes.”
I dry my hands and lean against his broad chest. “Thank you.”
“You never did tell me what kind of books you enjoy listening to.”
I cross my arms over my stomach so I can rest my hands on his. “Action and adventure, comedy. Mostly light stuff I don’t have to concentrate on too much. What’s your favourite book?”
“Hm.Neuromancerby William Gibson.”
“Would you read some of it to me?”
Kyle brushes his lips over my ear. “Like an audiobook?”
“Yes. You have a sexy voice.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
I chuckle. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.”
Kyle releases me and fetches the book. We sit on the sofa, him with his legs on the floor, me sideward with my feet on his lap. He massages my feet while he reads, his sultry tone mesmerising me. It could be the most boring story in the universe, but I wouldn’t care. I adore the sound of his voice. When his mouth gets dry, I fetch him some water, and he carries on reading.
At the end of the fourth chapter, he rests the book against his chest and smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“No problem.” I scoot closer and kiss his cheek. “I’ve had a wonderful morning. Thank you.”
