Especially at the hospital where you work.
You want to think the best of the person you love, don’t you? I must’ve loved him, though, but at some point, that love had changed. I wasn’tinlove with him—I couldn’t have been or else I’d be feeling more... moresomethingright now.
More pain. More hurt. More heartbreak.
Not that any of this is a valid excuse for his behaviour. He obviously isn’t in love with me either, but this isn’t how you end a relationship.
You asked for a break; well, this is me giving you one. Permanently.
Then I’d switched off my phone. I’m not interested in his excuses, though a tiny, vindictive part of me would love to know what he thought of my voicemail...
‘You okay?’ Fin asks, a worried furrow of her brow marring her lovely face.
‘Yes, totally. It’s just been a busy day.’
I lower my hands to my knees, suddenly conscious of Kit watching them smooth the slight wrinkles from the tablecloth. My gaze flicks to his again, but he’s still watching my hands. Or at least, he would be if he could see through solid matter.
Maybe it’s not your hands he’s thinking about. Maybe it’s more your lap. Maybe he’s thinking of you touching yourself. Maybe watching you touch yourself would work better on him than it did with Jon.
God, such ridiculousness. I think I need to start having more sex, even if it’s just with myself.
Kit’s head rises, and his gaze meets mine head on, almost as though he can hear what’s running through my head. My neck starts to heat and prickle, and I know the red flush will be visible, but I find I don’t care. All I can think about is how aesthetically beautiful his mouth is—the dip above his cupid’s bow and a full, ripe bottom lip. I wonder how soft they’d be to kiss. Would he be a little less... moist—read slobbery—than Jon?
Oh, stop it. The man’s not going to kiss you just because you’ve been dumped. Settle down; you’re bouncing around like a speed fiend on a pogo stick.
There’s a perfectly rational reason for my reaction to him. I’ve just been jilted. Dumped. Spurned! Plus, I haven’t had sex in months.
Also, my table companion smells so divine—sort of woodsy with underlying notes of something citrus, perhaps.
He smells way better than he ought to, anyway. It’s like I’ve been on the cabbage soup diet for a couple of years and have just been sat next to a cream cake.
And what I wouldn’t give for a bite right now.
My heart is beating a little too fast but it’s only because I’m hungry and I’ve just dashed from one side of London to the other to get here. Not to mention, it’s hot in this room. My current physical state is a reaction to my emotional one and has absolutely nothing to do with the hunk of a man sitting next to me... even if his cool grey gaze seems to be making a mockery of my words.
This is about rejection. This is about hurt. And none of it matters if I think these thoughts. It doesn’t make them true because...
Gay. Gay. He’s gay, Bea, gay!
I must be reading those signals wrong, which makes me a fool twice in one day. Besides, Fin told me so ages ago. These gorgeous men are twins with sexual orientations at opposite poles.
The fact I’m suddenly aware of my damp panties has more to do with how I currently feel rather than any interest he has in me. Even if he is still watching me with the confidence of a big cat.
Which would make me game.
God, yes, I’m game. Or I would be if he was straight.
As Fin and I chat, he continues his scrutiny.Do I have a bit of booger hanging from my nose?
With a surreptitious wipe, I find it can’t be that.
Brusque. That’s how Fin had described Rory’s twin. A little demanding. Though I think she downplayed that last bit. Who insists on feeding someone like a small child?
I curl my hand around my neck, and I prop my elbow on the table in front of me as though I’m terribly interested in what Fin has to say. It’s not that I’m uninterested, which, ifyou’reinterested, is something about Savannah, her bitch of a boss.
Savannah. Bitch of a boss. Concentrate on that and don’t turn your head. Don’t look at him.
The him in question is just as gorgeous as Rory is. I was aware the pair were twins—identical even, or monozygotic, if you want to get technical. So I knew Kit would be just as good looking as my friend’s beau. But man, oh man, was I unprepared forhim.
