‘Brendan’s in town. Last-minute thing. He’s taking them to Wagamama’s, so I’ve got a couple of spare hours. But, honestly, if you’re still working out . . .’
He narrows his eyes. ‘I think you know already that I’d take you over a treadmill any day, Lisa.’
‘Well, I didn’t like to be presumptuous.’
‘Get outta here.’ Then his smile fades and his eyes lower to my lips. ‘Damn, I want to kiss you, but I’m super sweaty,’ he murmurs, stepping back as he pulls his T-shirt away from his body.
I reach out and pull him back. ‘I don’t really care.’
He sinks the briefest of kisses into my lips. He tastes of salt and spearmint.
‘Icare,’ he says. ‘Come on. I’ll take a quick shower then I’m all yours.’
We head out of the internal door and he calls the lift. We step inside and he presses the button to the seventh floor, before swiping his pass.
We stand side by side.
‘Well, this is bringing backverypleasant memories,’ he says, smiling to himself.
‘Still, if you don’t want me to touch you until you’ve showered . . .’
He turns to me. ‘I’m regretting that decision.’
The door pings open.
We step out and walk to his apartment, where he lets us in.
‘Help yourself to anything. I’ll be three minutes tops,’ he says, heading into the bathroom.
It’s not quite as spotless as the last time I was here, but it’s clear that Zach leads a relatively well-ordered life. Or maybe that’s just compared with me, because it’s a damn sight more presentable than my house was when he caught me unawares. I slip off my shoes, not daring to walk on that cream carpet, and head to the dining table. A printed-out packing list sits next to a highlighter pen. The reminder that soon he won’t be here makes an unexpected shock of heat prick behind my eyes.
Just don’t think about it.
Next to that is one of Mila’s pictures – a depiction of what I presume to be her and Zach. They have stick limbs and she’s wearing a triangular dress, while he has a scrawl of curly black hair on his head.
‘I really hope that in real life my hair doesn’t look quite sopubic.’
I chuckle and look up, but the laughter dissolves in my mouth the moment I see him. He has a white towel around his waist. His tanned skin is still damp. I’m not sure if he’s still pumped after his workout, but every sculpted contour of his torso seems to glisten in the soft evening light.
‘I . . . wouldn’t worry too much.’
‘Gimme two minutes to get dressed.’
But as he goes to turn around, I touch his hand. He stops. Turns around again. Moves into my arms.
‘Or . . . maybe not.’
Chapter 57
The backdrop of the window is a melodramatic, grey watercolour. The percussion of rain against the glass is the only thing I can hear over the catch of my quickening breath. He draws me into the warmth of his chest and, the moment my mouth finds his, I am hungry for him. The thought of his touch has been in the back of my mind all day and, each time I’ve indulged it, a snare drum has begun to faintly roll somewhere inside my core.
His tongue teases open my lips, as I smooth my hand along the flesh of his lower back, the line where it meets his towel. Tiny goosepimples rise beneath my fingertips. He gently tugs the fabric of my top out of the waistband of my skirt. He lifts it over my head and drops it over the back of a chair. Then he pulls me in closer, the lace of my bra grazing his skin.
His hand sweeps slowly up the side of my ribcage until it reaches my breast. He caresses my nipple with his thumb, making it tighten. He slides one strap down off my shoulder, bends to kiss the freckled curve of it. Then he moves to the next as my chin tilts upwards and he presses his lips against my throat.
I reach around and unclasp my bra. It falls to the floor. He brushes his lips in a pathway all the way to my breast. Then my nipple is in his mouth and he’s playing with it with his tongue. I have to hold the back of the chair to steady myself.
I whisper his name, in a breath, a heartbeat, and the sound of it seems to make some feverish new pressure begin to buildinside him. Our lips collide and he reaches down and unzips my skirt. I wiggle my hips so it falls to the floor, pooling at my feet. I step out and kick it away, before we stumble towards the bedroom in a frenzy of heat and kisses. We pause at the open door, my back pressed against the threshold as I reach down to smooth my palm over his towel, gaining a sense of how hard he is. His head tilts back and he groans.
