My alarm wakes me up with a start. I’m disorientated for a few seconds and can’t work out where I am.
Then it all comes flooding back to me.
I’m in Japan. On my honeymoon. Without the key ingredient: a husband.
And Kit is here.
Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the ceiling. My skin feels tingly and strange, like someone’s just gently caressed me with their fingertips and all my nerve endings have sprung to attention.
It must be the jetlag.
I roll over and sit up, giving myself a shake. Time to wake up and get out and about, otherwise I’ll never sleep tonight and my body-clock will be out of sync for the rest of my time here. If I was able to afford to stay for two weeks it wouldn’t have mattered so much, but I can’t, so I’m going to need to be organised about getting the most out of my time.
Maybe a swim will freshen me up.
I find my tankini and pull a vest top and shorts on over the top of it. I’m not sure if it’s okay to take the towel from my room, but I figure since I’m paying five-star prices, the least they can do is provide me with an extra towel when I need one. I’ll ask reception about getting one later. I drop my phone, sunglasses and the paperback I was reading on the plane into the tote I’ve brought, in case I feel like hanging out by the pool once I’ve had a swim.
It’s quiet inside the hotel and I don’t see anyone else as I stroll down the corridor, following the signs towards the outdoor pool. It becomes clear why it’s so deserted when I walk out into the pool area and find it thronged with people. If fact there’s only one lounger available.
And it’s next to the one person I hoped I wouldn’t see out here.
Kit seems to be asleep, stretched out in the sunshine, his body gleaming in the light like some golden trophy. He’s looking good. Really good. Clearly he’s been working out at the gym a lot as he’s more ripped than I remember him being when I first knew him – not that he wasn’t always fit.
But this vision in front of me is something else entirely.
My body floods with heat, and desire starts to coil through me.
Dammit.
This is the last thing I need.
I’m in mourning for my last relationship and I don’t need the complication of my inappropriate age-old lust for Kit to add to my torment.
It’s nice to know my libido hasn’t completely died though. That there’s still some life in the old girl.
Anyway, sod this. I’m not going to spend my time here hiding in my room. I have just as much right to be by this poolside as he does. It’s not like I’m stalking him. It’s just pure coincidence that the only space available is right next to him.
So I stride over and dump my bag next to the free lounger, then spread my towel out along the cushion, keeping my gaze determinedly off Kit’s sleeping form. Turning my back on him – just in case he wakes up and thinks I’m deliberately stripping in front of him – I pull off my vest and shorts and drop them on top of the towel before walking over to the other side of the pool and tentatively dipping my toe into the water.
It’s just the right temperature, warm enough not to give me a heart attack when I get into it but cool enough to not make me hot while I swim.
I do a few lengths of breaststroke, keeping my gaze fixed in front of me and not allowing myself to glance over to where Kit is still asleep on the lounger.
At least I assume he’s still asleep. For all I know he could be watching me right now, with his dark-eyed gaze assessing my performance.
He’s got the most incredible eyes. They’re the deepest brown I’ve ever seen and can look almost black in some situations. Whenever he’d look at me, back in the day, with his intense gaze, my whole body would feel fizzy with lust.
It was like he was sexing me with his eyes. I know that sounds weird, but he just has a way of turning me on with his attentiveness.
Hada way.
I’m not falling for that surface-level kind of attention again. Because that’s what I realised it was. He never took our relationship seriously. He was the kind of guy who was always on the lookout for the next new thing. Or that’s what it felt like, anyway.
It sounds like he found a person he was happy to stick with though, if he was going to get married. Katya, I think he called her. I imagine she’s just as attractive and cool as he is. Those things always seemed to really matter to him.
I finally allow myself to glance in his direction and my heart starts to race when I see that he’s awake and is in fact watching me.
How is it possible to actually feel someone’s gaze on you? It’s like he’s physically touching me right now, judging by how my body’s reacting.
