“Which whisky did you use?”
My girl also had a thing about whiskies. She rarely drank and never more than two in the evenings.
“The new one. It’s peaty.”
Her eyes shone as she passed me a glass, her fingers brushing mine. It was the slightest of touches, but it was almost enough.
“What shall we do tomorrow?” I was happy to stay in bed for most of the day and create our own world where there was nothing to interrupt us, but I didn’t know her well enough yet to be able to read her. I wanted to know her well enough.
“Sleep. Do something luxurious like watch TV in bed. Maybe some other things in bed too.” She sat opposite me, sipping at her whisky like it was a life force.
“I’ll make you breakfast in bed.”
“Do you ever not think about food?”
I laughed loudly. At her. “Seriously? You ask me that?”
She smiled softly. “I think about food plus rents on restaurants and reviews and staffing. I wish it was just food. I think they were good days.”
“Why ‘think’?”
She shrugged. “Because things weren’t good elsewhere and I always had my father’s voice in my head telling me I’d never make it. That was why I couldn’t pursue dance: apart from the fact he refused to pay for my lessons he would criticise my performance each time.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother was a dancer, semi-pro. She won ballroom competitions when she was younger. I think he found the comparison difficult to deal with.”
I put my glass down. “Your father was an idiot.”
She smiled and nodded. “I know. But it took me a long time to accept that.”
“Dance with me.” I stood up and offered her my hand. There was music piping through the speakers as there pretty much always was in Simone’s, a mixture of modern R&B and tracks from the fifties and sixties. Dancing music.
She laughed and stood up, putting her drink with mine. “Is this normal? For two people to dance when they’re at home?”
“Why can’t it be?” I brought her closer to me, the song a slow one, the singer’s voice sultry and low. She was soft and warm beneath my hands, her head resting underneath my chin. Nothing else existed at that point, we were it, the only souls on the planet.
We moved, no real flair needed, just the music, just us.
The song faded out and she looked up at me, her eyes wide and dark. She didn’t need to say anything; I bent my head and kissed her, slowly enough to savour everything that she was right now.
Tender wasn’t something I usually experienced, but this was. As much as I had the urge to claim her again, the way my skin felt against her, the soft sweetness as she cast her hands over me, made me need to relish this time because we wouldn’t have it again, not right here and now.
I covered her body with my hands, pushing up her top to slide my fingers along the firm muscles of her back, over the back of her neck, into her hair, dropping back down to pull her top over and away.
Her bra was simple white lacy-stuff, her nipples visible through the fabric and I heard a noise come from me that sounded like a growl.
“You.” She tugged at the hem of my shirt. “Take it off.”
“Demanding much?”
“I want to check the goods before I test them.”
There was more to her words than just a tease.
I pulled off my top and stood half naked. Vulnerability wasn’t something I’d understood until now; I’d never been concerned with what a woman thought as I was arrogant enough to get that I looked decent. But right now, I wanted her to like what she saw. I wanted her to want me.
The tip of a gentle finger traced over my abs and up to my chest, circling each nipple. They hardened and I felt shivers wrack my body. She pressed in harder as her hand slid down to my jeans, through the dark hair that led to where I wanted so badly for her to touch.
