He didn’t move at first, as if she’d genuinely surprised him. Then she felt the stillness shift. His hand came up to her face, cupping one cheek, then the other, as if he wanted to hold her in place and simply take her in.
It was nothing like how she’d imagined.
She’d wanted him; her body had been very clear on that. She’d expected heat, hunger, the clash of two determined people trying to get the upper hand.
There was lust, certainly — his meeting hers and matching it — but there was more. An unexpected tenderness in the careful way his lips moved over hers, tasting, exploring; in the way his fingers held her face as if she were something precious.
When she parted her lips, wanting more, his response was immediate, and for a long moment the rest of the world dropped away.
Then he broke off, resting his forehead against hers. His hands slid into her hair. She could feel his heartbeat hammering against her, could see desire in his eyes.
Something was holding him back, but it wasn’t a lack of wanting.
He blew out a long breath. ‘You, Miss MacLeod, are something else.’
He stood as if he meant to put distance between them, but she kept hold of his hands.
She tilted her head, trying to read him. ‘What does that mean?’
‘That you’re… not what I expected.’
She stood too and stepped closer. ‘And what was it you expected?’
‘Not someone who’s proving irresistible.’
Their fingers threaded together. He rubbed his thumb slowly over her palm, and the simple contact sent a shiver through her.
‘Then why resist?’ she asked, taking another step until her body brushed his and she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
He wrapped his arms around her. ‘Why indeed? If I had any scruples, they’re disappearing rapidly.’
She traced a finger along his jaw and over his mouth. ‘Don’t let them disappear altogether. I’m a good girl. I don’t sleep around. But a few kisses?’ She let her gaze drift to his lips. ‘Where’s the harm in that?’
Her answer came in the form of a low sound torn from his chest and the sudden, sure pressure of his mouth on hers. And all thought dissolved.
She could only register his hands, his mouth, and her own response. His tongue brushed against hers, coaxing, and she melted, an ache pooling low.
Somehow they ended up on the sofa, still fully dressed, her legs drawn up beneath her, his arm around her, his other hand tangled in her hair. They kissed and broke apart and kissed again, with those breathless little pauses where they simply looked at each other, as if checking this was really happening.
Only when a clock somewhere in the apartment chimed and she glimpsed the glow of the digital readout on the oven through the open-plan kitchen that reality barged back in.
She jerked upright. ‘Shoot.’
‘What?’ he said, a little dazed.
‘The time. I’ve missed the last train.’
He glanced over at the clock and gave an easy shrug. ‘I’ll call you an Uber.’
She fumbled for her bag. ‘I can do it —’
‘Lucy.’ His voice had changed. Softer. ‘You’re welcome to stay.’
She froze. ‘I don’t sleep around.’
‘Nor do I,’ he said quietly. ‘Believe it or not. Staying doesn’t have to mean sex. We can just talk. Eat. Drink.’ A faint smile tugged at his mouth. ‘I’m house-trained.’
Something inside her, tight for a very long time, loosened a little.
