He laughs, then gets to his feet.
“Where are you going?” I ask, suddenly saddened at the thought of him leaving.
“We need two forks,” he says, nodding towards the desserts.
“Right.” I feel heat radiating from my cheeks. “They’re in…”
“The top drawer.”
I look at him.
“I’ve already been here. Remember?” he says, suggestively.
How could I forget?
He heads off into the kitchen as I get to my feet.No, I tell myself.I can’t do this. I can’t give in. I signed an agreement: I was the one who wrote the damn thing! I can’t just go back on my word because I feel lonely, just because of the way he’s looking at me now, from the kitchen doorway, as if he knows the effect he’s having on me. I’m in battle against myself: the self that has to do what’s right, for my job.
“You should go,” I tell him suddenly.
“Why?”
“You know exactly why.”
He comes back into the living room, his gaze never leaving mine. She starts to shake her head.
“We can’t.”
“No one would know apart from us.”
He’s suddenly beside me, lifting a hand towards my hair. He slowly pulls out my hair band, letting it tumble over my shoulders.
“God, Jordan.” His voice is low, raw. “Let yourself go.” He runs his hands through my hair. “Set the wild part of you free: the part you’ve kept locked away for so long.”
“I don’thavea wild side,” I say uncomfortably.
“Yes, you do. And I like it.” He moves closer again, his face in my neck. “I like it a lot.” His mouth is pressed against my skin.
“Niall…”
He lifts his head, his eyes landing on mine.
“One last time.” I can’t believe I really said that. “Just tonight,” I repeat, more for myself than for him. Apparently, the problem isn’t him, what he does or says, the way he looks at me.
The problem is me, and the way I react to each breath he takes.
“Do I need to sign a contract for this, too?”
“Absolutely. But not yet.”
“Aren’t you in a hurry?”
“I think we can wait a while.”
“How long?”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my frazzled nerves.
“All night.”
