“You should. It’s cheap and good for you.”
“Cheaper than noodles?”
“Overall, yes. You could make four meals for fifty pence.”
“Uh-huh.” He limps to his couch and sits down.
I trail after him and drop beside him. “Try it. I bet it’s nice.”
He dips his spoon into the thick, spicy soup. “It smells nice. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything this orange that wasn’t radioactive.”
“Radioactive?”
“Wotsits,” he clarifies. “Nothing that orange that isn’t a fruit or vegetable can be anything else.”
“Sage advice.”
He answers me by sliding his spoon into his mouth, and I’m instantly distracted by how full his lips are. He’s insanely sexy, and I fight to keep my attraction to him in check. Aidan and I share something I’ve never felt with anyone else. I can’t let the fact that I want to kiss him ruin it.Ican’t ruin it.
“Hey.”
I jump as Aidan’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Huh? What?”
“You spaced,” he says, and I can tell he’s trying not to stare at me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
I don’t explain, and he doesn’t ask me to. His hand slips from my shoulder and he carries on eating his soup, his face lighting up with genuine pleasure the further down his bowl he gets.
Unable to resist, I dive in too, and I’m instantly rewarded by the magic Rita promised coating my tongue. The soup is sunshine and warmth, and we made it together. I’m sure that makes it taste even better.
We empty our bowls in two minutes flat. Aidan rises to refill us, but I tug him down and go instead. When we’re full, I put the leftovers in the fridge and return to the couch. It’s probably time for me to go home, but I don’t want to. Not yet. I don’t want to leave the tiny bedsit I suddenly feel safe in, and I don’t want to leave Aidan.
You see, two bowls of soup aren’t enough, and it never will be. Aidan needs more from me and from himself.
I crouch in front of him and place my hands on his knees. I’m unsure of what I need to say, and so I don’t say anything. And neither does he, at least, not with words. He leans forwards and takes a breath.
And then he kisses me.
Sixteen
Aidan
I didn’t mean to kiss him, but even if he pushes me away, I know I’ll never regret it.
But he doesn’t push me away. He snatches a sharp, startled breath, and then he kisses me back, soft and sweet, like the rustle of leaves at the very top of my favourite tree. I sense the smile on his lips, and it warms what space I have left in my bitter heart that he hasn’t already filled.
I wonder if he’s humouring me. Then his hands slide up my thighs, and he clasps my face, tugging me closer. The intensity of our kiss ramps up a gear. My head swims, but I don’t dare clutch at him to steady myself. I don’t daremovein case I break this spell.
A lifetime seems to pass as his lips move with mine, but at the same time, however long we’re pressed together is over in a flash.
Ludo pulls away, his face twisted in an expression so sheepish and rueful that I have to fight with myself in case I spring from the couch and tackle him to the floor. God, I want him. And damn, if I don’t care about him so fucking much that if the next words out of his mouth are that this was a mistake, I can live with it. Iwilllive with it. Anything to be close to him for a little while longer.
A breathless laugh escapes him. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to jump on you.”
“I started it.”
“True.” He licks his reddened lips, and his gaze slips to my mouth.
