‘About what?’ I asked, stalling for time.
‘The fact that we’re in bed together. That you’re going to be sleeping right next to me for an entire night inthoseshorts ...’
He liked my shorts.
I tentatively turned on my side. He was already on his, facing me, his mouth inches away. I could feel the heat of him under the covers.
‘I really don’t think this is a good idea,’ I said, as he reached out and took my face between his hands, looking at me – really looking at me.
‘You’re right. It’s a terrible idea,’ he said, kissing me gently and then pulling back almost instantly.
‘We should stop,’ I said, groaning as his hand found its way underneath my camisole and he stroked my back so softly, so carefully that I almost caved in and pulled him on top of me.
‘Remind me why?’ he said, his breath warm on my mouth.
‘It’s already too complicated.’
‘What’s wrong with complicated?’ he asked, his hand now skimming down the back of my thigh and sending waves of pleasure pulsating through my body.
‘It’s too soon. After Charlie,’ I said, not quite meaning that, but not sure how to express exactly what I was feeling either. Which was that I didn’t want to get hurt, not again, and that I was ninety-nine per cent certain that Marcus would end up hurting me.
‘You’re scared,’ he whispered.
‘I know,’ I said.
‘Me, too,’ he lied.
Or at least I assumed he did. What would he have to be scared of?
‘Let’s just sleep,’ I suggested.
He removed his hand from my leg and I ached for him to put it right back on again, but I had to stay strong.
‘Ava, I have the feeling that this is going to be a very long night,’ he said with a sigh.
And then we smiled at each other and I turned to face the bathroom and he turned out the lights and I heard his breath become slower and slower. Every time I swallowed I was sure he could hear it, and I wasn’t tired in the slightest – how could I be, when my body was full of adrenaline? Because now, of course, I knew what it felt like when hereallykissed me.
Chapter Twenty
Zoe and I took our seats in the front row of centre court for Marcus’s first match at Queen’s. Apparently, the space was usually just a patch of beautifully maintained grass at the front of the clubhouse, but once a year it became an arena seating nine thousand eager, mainly British tennis fans, keen to see their favourite players battle it out on home turf. According to my research, this tournament was an ATP 500, so not quite as prestigious as Miami, Monte Carlo, Madrid or Rome in terms of points. Perhaps because of its location, though, and because it served as a warm-up for Wimbledon (and often a good indicator of who was going to win), it attracted most of the big names.
‘Oh my God, the atmosphere’s so much better than it looks on TV!’ enthused Zoe, chugging Pimm’s and lemonade through a straw. ‘It was so nice of Marcus to get me a ticket.’
A camera flashed in our direction.
‘You might be in the papers tomorrow,’ I warned her.
‘Hope so,’ she said. ‘I didn’t raid the fashion cupboard at work yesterday for nothing.’
There was never much time between getting to our seats and the match beginning. I quickly introduced Zoe to Patrick and Nick. Dean was in LA, although he’d be flying in for Wimbledon. I settled back in my seat, taking in the crowd and the way the beautifully smooth grass court popped againstthe red advertising boards lining all four sides. A well-spoken English woman came over the loudspeaker and announced first the Spanish player, Pedro García, and then Marcus, giving the crowd a few facts about each of them.
‘This is Marcus Taylor’s thirteenth Queen’s Championship. He reached the semi-finals in 2019, 2022 and 2023. Could this be the year he finally takes the trophy?’
The English crowd were much quieter than the Europeans and very politely clapped and low-level cheered both players as they walked out on court, the requisite television cameras pointing in their faces, some sort of classical music blaring out, a stark contrast to the hip-hop in Monte Carlo and the rock tracks in Paris. Each tournament seemed to have its own vibe, and this was elegant and sedate. Everyone clapped and cheered, including Zoe, who was particularly loud. Marcus briefly caught my eye as he put his bag down and began unpacking it.
‘Did he just look at you?’ whispered Zoe, nudging me.
I shrugged non-committally. ‘Not sure.’
