‘I wish I knew.’
My lips parted as he tested the softness of the skin, lightly tracing the swell.
‘The first time I saw you, at lunch with Mal,’ he said, closing his eyes for a second to concentrate on the memory. ‘Something about you connected to something in me in a way I can’t explain. And I thought I could explain everything. Every time you moved, I panicked, sure you were going to leave before I got to speak to you. I told myself to stay where I was and let you go but I couldn’t. You were like a test.’
‘Did you pass?’ I asked as his eyes fluttered open.
‘The results aren’t in yet.’
The pad of his thumb moved down my chin to my throat and paused at my collarbone. ‘Then I came over and I know you felt it too. When you stood up to leave, your hair spilled over your shoulder. I literally couldn’t breathe. The way the light hit, you were glowing. And you should’ve seen the look on your face when Mal told you to leave. I knew if you stayed, all bets were off. By the time we left the restaurant, I couldn’t stand the thought of letting you out my sight.’
‘Can’t believe my singing didn’t put you off,’ I quipped softly. He grinned. No hesitation this time.
‘There was nothing you could’ve done to put me off by then. There’s nothing you could ever do. Even fighting with you is fun.’
My hands found the fridge behind me and cooled themselves against the metal finish, too afraid to touch him in case I couldn’t let go.
‘You’re so passionate, you care so much. You’re funny and smart, and you’re ridiculously talented even if you aren’t ready to believe it yourself. Anyone would be beyond lucky to stand beside you. Yes, I was trying to help when I said I was Este Cox but I was also being selfish. I was trying to keep myself in your life, same as when I brought your bag up here. Could’ve given it to my dad or taken it into work to Mal but it was an excuse. I needed to see you again.’
‘Instalove is my least favourite trope,’ I told him, hands shaking behind my back. ‘You’re not doing yourself any favours right now.’
‘Then I’m not expressing myself very well and you don’t understand how I feel,’ he murmured, the soft rumpling of his shirt as loud as thunder in my ear. ‘I wish it didn’t have to be so complicated.’
‘Why is it? You’re the one who doesn’t do relationships,’ I reminded him and myself at the same time. If he didn’t step away from me very soon, that wasn’t going to matter much any more. ‘I’m not a mind reader. If you want me to understand, you have to explain.’
He pulled away so I could see his face, flushed and full of need. ‘You really want to know what I’m thinking right now?’
‘I’ve got a vague idea,’ I breathed. ‘But clarification couldn’t hurt.’
Joe stared back at me like this was another test,searching me for something that might make him hesitate but I knew all he would find there was my desire. A desire I saw mirrored back at me in his blue eyes.
‘I’m wondering how you like it,’ he said, leaning in to whisper directly into my ear. ‘I’m wondering if you’ll pull me down on top of you or push me back and ride me. I’m wondering what you taste like and how long I can hold you at the edge before you come undone and start to beg.’ He moved around to the other ear and I felt a shudder work its way down my body, rippling along my spine and building to a crescendo between my thighs. ‘Will you say my name?’ he asked. ‘Or will you scream? I want to know how far I can take you before it’s too much. I want to know if you will look me in the eye when I finally let you come.’
The safe space between us disappeared and the hands that had cradled my head so gently were on my hips, his mouth hovering above the skin of my neck as he breathed me in. Small whimpers escaped from my throat even as I tried to contain them, my breath ragged and uneven.
‘If you don’t like instalove, which tropes do you like?’ he asked, the rough promise of tomorrow’s beard scratching the tender flesh of my throat.
I placed my forearms on his chest, holding him at bay and holding myself up, arms shaking, knees weak. The sound of rain pounded against the roof of the cottage and, as the anticipation grew, my resolve weakened until there was nothing left at all.
‘Only one bed has always been a favourite,’ I replied, casting my gaze across the room. My hands slid down from his chest to his waist, thumbs hooking themselves over his belt. ‘Forced proximity, enemies to lovers.’
Slowly, so slowly, he began to unbutton his shirt, carefully manipulating each button, without taking his eyes off mine.
‘Is this a good idea?’ I said, my cardigan slipping off my shoulder all on its own.
‘No,’ he answered. ‘It’s a terrible idea. You’re going to get hurt, I’m going to get hurt. You’ll never speak to me again. It’ll probably destroy my career.’
‘Then we shouldn’t,’ I said as he pulled the fabric of his open shirt out of his waistband and casually discarded it on the floor. What little light there was cut shapes and shadows over his body, the indentation of his collarbone, the curve of his shoulder as it dipped into the swell of his bicep. ‘I’ll go back to the house, sleep on the floor or something.’
‘That’s a great idea,’ Joe agreed, his words melting into me as he pressed his mouth against my neck, right where my blood pulsed under my skin, the taste of my heartbeat on his tongue.
‘We’re not animals,’ I groaned, head rolling back when he slipped one black silk spaghetti strap off my shoulder, his kisses moving down my body and leaving a trail of sweet shivers in their wake. ‘I can control myself.’
He ran his hand up my back and raked it through the hair at the nape of my neck, grasping a careful fistful and pulling gently until I moaned for more.
‘Good girl.’
The words rumbled in his throat and I was done for. There was no need for even one bed, not when the wall was right behind me, the floor right beneath us. I tore at his belt, furious at the strip of supple leather for keeping him from me even half a second longer than necessary. The fastener, button and zip that held histrousers around his waist were an outrage, my fingers numb as they worked their way around each one. It was too hard to concentrate even on simple tasks with Joe’s hands up in my hair, his mouth charting a course from one side of my collarbone to the other. Half of me wanted to let go and lose myself but the other half wanted to remember every exquisite sensation. I heard his trousers fall to the floor and pulled on the taut waistband of his underwear, slipping them down over his hips, his backside, his strong, thick thighs. He pushed me back against the wall in response, the skirt of my dress riding up and gathering between us as he found the slip of silky underwear between my legs, the last thing that separated us.
