I roll my eyes but can’t help laughing. “Oh my god, that was the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard.”
He shrugs. “When in France.”
I tilt my head to him. “I think you mean, ‘When in Rome.’”
He matches my tilt, stepping forward. “There was something I wanted to do in Rome and still want to do in France.” We’re the same height, face-to-face so I can admire him in more detail.
“And what’s that?” I smirk, heart racing as I lean in closer.
His eyes sparkle. “Say good night.”
“Good night,” I say.
“Good night,” he says.
“Good night,” I say.
He kisses me.
It’s soft at first, as delicate as the rain falling onto our cheeks.Immediately evaporating once landed, it could practically be nothing. It’s barely raining, you would say if you saw it. We’re barely kissing. Lips brushing like morning dew brushes the grass.
I place my cold hand against his face, feeling the bristly stubble. His hand snakes into my open coat around my warm waist, and I melt into him. My blood turns molten as the kiss deepens, and I feel his heart hammering as hard as mine. His smell invades my senses, and I curl my cold fingers around his wool lapel, needing him as close as possible. He presses me back gently until I’m against the door, and the peeling paint crinkles as it grazes against the fabric of my coat. He pushes up the step to meet me, eyes glazed and towering over me once again. My lips are swollen as he presses a thumb against them, tracing them like he did to my cut palm in the bar. I pull him in, biting his bottom lip. His lips thin as they smile between my teeth. When I let go, he trails his mouth down my jaw to my neck, turning my legs to jelly.
“You taste amazing,” he whispers, kissing the soft spot between my collarbone.
I let out a half laugh, half groan. “Michelin starred?”
“A different tire brand needs to make a whole new level of grading for you.” He squeezes my waist. “What do I have to do to get you back to my room?” he says, practically begging.
“I’m getting on a train home in three hours.” I moan, hating every word spilling out.
“Fuck.” He rests his forehead against mine. “I forgot about the train, officially my least favorite mode of transport.”
We hold one another in silence, both basking in each other’s presence for a few seconds longer. The question is on the tip of my tongue:Can I see you in London?But I don’t verbalize it.
“Want me to walk you back to your room?” he asks, before adding, “No strings attached.”
I imagine bumping into Malcolm with Oliver in tow. What would happen if he said something in front of Oliver? It would just take a sentence for this whole operation to blow up in my face. And even if it didn’t, he would notice I’m sharing my room with my fake boss. “No, it’s okay. I’m a big girl.”
Oliver sighs. “We should probably say good night, for real this time.”
We kiss again, urgently. If we are trying to get this attraction out of our systems, this is making it a lot worse. Like wanting to finish every bite of dessert despite being uncomfortably full, and Oliver is crème brûlée. With a groan, our lips eventually tear apart, and he steps down, holding his hand out for me to drop down beside him. We walk in silence to the end of the street; the moment we get within eyeshot of the hotel, things have to return to professional.
But I don’t want to stop. I never wanted to do anything less.
“Good night,” I say.
He gives me a chaste peck on my hand and passes me his umbrella, somehow the gentlemanly gesture of all things making me blush.
He looks at me like he’s already committed the evening to long-term memory. Our hot, heavy breath mingles in front of us. His glassy eyes bright under the streetlights. “Averygood night.”
I feel his gaze on me as I walk the remaining few minutes until I’m back to the hotel’s front door, periodically turning around to see him walking a few yards behind like a comforting specter. Close enough to keep me safe but far enough awayto not raise questions. By the time I make it through the sliding doors and into the elevator, Oliver has disappeared. He didn’t follow me through the front. Thanks to working with Dominic, he must know all the staff side entrances like the back of his hand.
Glancing at my reflection in my dark phone screen, I look like I’ve been making out. My lips plump and naturally pink, my pupils dilated, and hair frizzy from his hands running through it in the rain. As the elevator hums toward my floor, I scan through several additional missed calls and texts I’ve received from Spencer and Cecily.
Spencer:OMG
Spencer:What the actual fuck
