Without trying at all, she looks healthy and very, very alive.
Shefeelsalive as if jolts of electricity are zapping through her.
Into her groin.
Is it the near-death-ish experience?
Grabbing her toothbrush, India speedily brushes her teeth. She knows what that means and doesn’t care.
This is not a good idea, she tells herself, but she takes the hotel’s mouthwash and swills it around in her mouth anyway.
Not a good idea at all for a recovering romantic.
She adds some perfume – a blast of Byredo’s Gypsy Water – and puts cherry lip balm on her wide, full mouth.
Also bad.
India can’t help it.
Outside, Dan’s on his feet, smiling a polite smile.
‘I should go,’ he says. ‘Rose said we’ve an nine a.m. start, but thank you for the drink. See you in the morning.’
In reply, India stands in front of him, reaches up to put both hands on his face and kisses him.
His mouth instantly opens to hers and his hands snake around her body to hold her to him.
India lets out a little moan as she leans in to his body, letting her fingers get tangled in his dark hair, smelling whatever cologne he put on after his shower earlier.
It’s gingery mixed with vanilla, and perhaps patchouli? India knows and loves men’s fragrances. She’s bought enough of it for boyfriends.
‘This is …’ he mutters.
‘A bad idea,’ India replies.
‘The worst.’ Dan keeps kissing her, his mouth roaming over her jawline, into the curve of her ears, his hands holding her as if she’s a bit of precious china.
‘Not limerence, I promise,’ India says.
Instantly, Dan pulls back. ‘No,’ he says. ‘I can’t do this to you. We can’t do this, you’re a vulnerable person, India—’
‘I’m not in love with you,’ she says firmly. ‘Not. In. Love.’
And she isn’t, she’s sure of that. He’s seen her at her most real and she doesn’t mind, doesn’t mind that he isn’t looking at the fake, fragile unicorn-butterfly India.
To show him how important this is, she kisses him three times.
‘Not limerence, not full-on romantic fantasy where I have a wedding dress in mind. I am thinking with my body not my mind. This is sex.’
Their mouths are entwined.
‘This is a mistake.’ He’s still holding her, kissing her.
‘Why is it a mistake?’ India arches her back as Dan leans in to her. She feels molten everywhere.
‘Rose will kill us,’ Dan murmurs.
‘We don’t have to tell her.’ India makes a growling noise as one of Dan’s hands finds her right breast, nipple erect under her silky T-shirt.
