‘A little,’ I reply.
‘You want to get out?’
‘No.’Yes! The answer is yes!I’ve had too much to drink. Webothhave. We’re not thinking straight.
He brings me closer to his side, so close that I can feel the heat radiating from him. My breast brushes against his bicep and he breathes in sharply, his grip on my hand becoming vice-like. Somewhere in my alcohol-riddled brain I’m aware of just how ‘unfriendly’ our stance is, but rational thought has completely deserted me.
A long, torturous moment passes when I don’t know what’s going to happen next. My head is spinning and his gaze is searing as he stares at me in the darkness, and then he turns to face me and slides both of his hands around my waist, slowly pulling me closer until my naked skin collides firmly with his.Holy shit!I can feel him down there, pressing against me. My insides turn to liquid.
Without thinking, I slide my fingers up his bare, ripped chest, over his broad shoulders, and into the hair at the nape of his neck. His lips part and an audible groan escapes, and then our mouths come together and the stars above our heads explode with dizzying brilliance.
I gasp into his kiss as his arms lock me hard against his naked, slippery body, shivers spiralling up and down my spine as his tongue strokes against mine. Is this actually happening?
His mouth suddenly slides away. His chest is heaving, but I can sense his hesitation. He meets my eyes again, apprehension beginning to cloud his features.
No... No... We can’t go back now.
I press my thumb to his brow and smooth away the lines that have formed there.
This feels too good to stop...
We’re obviously in agreement, because suddenly his strong arms are lifting me up, and I’m wrapping my legs around his slim waist, the salty, buoyant water helping to sustain my weight.
We both gasp against each other as he lowers me onto him. It feels so intense, so raw. Our lips stay locked together and the water laps against our skin as he begins to move.
Afterwards, I don’t want him to let me go. I stay in his arms, my legs wrapped around him and my face pressed against his neck. He kisses my collarbone.
‘We should get back,’ he whispers.
I very, very reluctantly let him go.
We wade in silence back to the beach. We didn’t bring towels and I feel exposed, but it would be crazy to ask him to turn around after what’s just happened. I pull my dress back over my wet body and he does the same with his shorts. Then we pick up our shoes and walk barefoot back to our hut, neither of us saying a word.
I want to ask him if he’ll sleep with me tonight, but I sense he might need to gather his thoughts. That was his first time since Nicki died. I only hope he doesn’t regret it in the morning.
Chapter 43
When I wake up, all is silent downstairs. I check the time on my phone: nine thirty.I bet he’s taken April for breakfast...
I lie there for a while, staring up at the ceiling. I can’t believe what happened last night. It was incredible, but I feel both blissfully jitteryandsickeningly nervous at the thought of it. Things got out of hand so quickly. Neither of us had time to stop and think. I know how I feel about him, but how is he coping today? I really hope I haven’t messed everything up. So much for taking smallBorrowers-style steps. That was more like huge, crashing, rampaging, baddies-from-The BFGones.
I feel very unsettled as I get up and go into the bathroom, turning on the shower. I went straight to bed last night and my skin feels tight and dry from the seawater.
I’m dressed and feeling fresher by the time they return, but my nerves are still pulsing away. I watch from the window as Charlie gets April out of her pram, leaving it outside, then I go and open the door for them.
‘Hi!’ he says with surprise.
‘Hi.’
We share a long, lingering look until he breaks the eye contact.
‘I brought you some breakfast,’ he says as April toddles through the door, into the living room. I gently stroke her light-blonde curls and smile down at her as she passes. Charlie brings out a plate of fresh fruit and pastries from the pram’s under-seat basket. ‘I didn’t know if you’d want something more substantial.’
‘This is perfect, thank you.’ I take it from him, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. I try to exhale deeply to release some of the pressure on my chest as I go and sit on the sofa. ‘How are you feeling?’ I ask carefully.
‘Okay,’ he replies, slumping wearily into the armchair. He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes for a long moment.
‘You want to talk?’ I ask.
