Pippa woke up the next morning to a gentle tap on the bedroom door. She shook her head a little, just to test it. By rights she should have the hangover from hell but was it possible that she had got lucky and slept through it? Maybe her headache before she fell asleep was the beginning of it. That would be a result. It would appear, however, that her drunken decision to ‘trust her instincts’ and try and get into Kam’s pants was still was still in place this morning. Although this time she had enough awareness to know she hadn’t been ‘brave’, just lustful.
She heard another gentle knock. Oh, this was almost as good as waking up next to him. She wriggled up in bed, tried to smooth her hair down and put her most sultry smile on. Hopefully when he opened the door she would be sitting there, slightly mussed and oh so sexy. No harm in being hopeful.
‘Hello, come in.’ She tried for her breathiest Marylin Monroe tones, although she was aware that; having seen her squawking across playgrounds for the last half term, he may not buy it.
‘Are you decent?’
Absolutely not. Very definitely indecent and very hopeful, she thought.
‘Yep,’ was her slightly more sensible reply.
He poked his head around the door and she was hit with the enticing aroma of fresh coffee as well as a slam to the pit of her stomach as lust washed back all over her.
He looked delicious. She was right about the way his hair stuck up slightly first thing in the morning the way she had always imagined it would. He stood there in pyjama bottoms and she wasn’t sure where to look first. She had always had a thing for men with strong upper arms and shoulders, and he very definitely had both. And then there was the downy line from his chest all the way down to the top of his trouser. She remembered how in secondary school she and her friends all had giggled about that bit, calling it the pathway to paradise.
Now that damn phrase was stuck in her head, her eyes on that line of hair, and she was struggling to speak.
‘Argh, um, arghhh.’
‘Go back to sleep. I can bring you coffee later.’
‘No!’ she squeaked the word, high pitched and desperate, and as he turned back to face her she patted the duvet next to her, feeling spider-like – come into my web, little fly.
She had to make a decision. She was, she assumed, now sober and had to work out what was more important to her: saving face or finding out the truth. Luckily, she had never been particularly shy. She may never get this chance again.
‘Are you sure?’ Kam asked.
Oh yes.
‘Mm, coffee would be great. This is so kind of you.’
‘That’s okay. You’ve been bringing me coffee every morning since we started working together. It’s only fair I get to return the favour. How’s your head?’
‘Surprisingly good actually. I think my hangover kicked in early.’
Kam sat down on the bed next to her and she had to use all her self-control not to take the coffee from him and run her hand up his arm.
She looked up at and saw that he was looking at her in a way that made her feel brave. Sheknewshe was right. Sheknewhe liked her as she liked him. Was she brave enough to try again? The worst that could happen was that he would reject her again and put distance between them for the remaining half term. Was that worse than dragging this out even longer? The not knowing. She could deal with rejection but she was fed up of this limbo. As far as she could see she liked him and he liked her, and right now he was sitting at the end of her bed, well, his spare-room bed, wearing very little. She could do this. She wasn’t suggesting forever. Nothing had to change. She knew he was shy; his entire family and Ben had taken great pains to tell her this at every opportunity. Shy was fine. She could take charge. But how should she pitch it? How to do it in a way that enticed him in and didn’t make him run a mile? She could feel her tummy squirming with nerves and the rest of her squirming with something altogether different.
She wouldn’t just lunge this time. She’d try and pitch it in a Kam-friendly way. If only she could come up with the right words.
‘Are you alright. You’re looking at me a bit oddly. Do you need me to get you some aspirin?’
‘No, don’t go anywhere,’ Pippa squeaked as she quickly tried to refocus her eyes to look more normal.
‘Now, you look like you’re having a stroke. Have a quick sip of your coffee. See if that helps.’
‘I’m not having a stroke. That’s so rude.’
‘I’m not trying to be rude.’
Pippa wished he bloody was.
‘I’m really grateful that you let me stay the night. What are your plans for the rest of the day?’ For goodness sake, this was small talk. She’d be asking about the weather next.
‘Chill out really. I’ve left the day blank because I thought I might feel a bit rough after a night of clubbing. What about you?’
‘Same. Do you want to spend it together?’ That was good. Bold. Confident.
