Could this be a sudden onset of bipolar?
Kai-polar, more like?
‘Don’t think much of your hair,’ I say, running a hand through the tangled mess. ‘The new me is supposed to be fabulous, didn’t you hear?’
The new me is fabulously sore. And I mean that,fabbbbulouslysore, my body aching in a way that only great sex can provide—like the best massage or workout that pours satisfaction into the very centre of your bones. With a smile wider than I’ve any right to, I stretch my arms above my head as I turn, startled by the dark bruise against my shoulder. I’ve been bitten before, though maybe it’s more the case that I’ve had a hickey or two. But this isn’t some half-hearted suck and more like an autograph bitten into my skin. I run my fingers over the minute depressions, aftershocks of pleasure shooting through my limbs.
My reflected smile falters a little. I’m not going to over analyse these feelings. I’ll just... revel in them for a little bit.
As I step into the cavernous shower, the heat of the water bites at my skin, my muscles unlocking and relaxing. And the water isn’t the only thing that flows, as my mind fills with X-rated images of all the dirty things you can do while keeping clean.
Pink from the heat of the water, mostly, I wrap myself in a large, white towel, feeling reinvigorated, but for my mouth, which feels like something has crawled in overnight and died.There’s nothing for it. I’ll have to brush my teeth with the only toothbrush available: his. I suppose I’ll just have to trust his oral hygiene, though there is something undeniably intimate about the sharing of a toothbrush. It’s ironic, I think as I pause with the brush in my hand, that I’d feel so circumspect, given the intimacies—not to mention fluids—we shared last night.
Orally acceptable, and reasonably presentable, I open the door to find Kai’s body filling the entire doorframe. I inhale sharply, having almost walked into his bare chest.
‘Damn, I was going to join you.’
His words are delivered with a soft pout, I find, as my gaze makes a slow path from his ribcage to his face. And while I manage to hang onto some brain function, my body has other plans, his proximity causing a chemical reaction to fizz under my skin. I can almost as if I can hear the endorphins.
A perfect specimen! Hump, spread those genes! Procreate that motherfucker!
Or maybe procreate that fucker... potential... mother?
Shaking off the primal urge to push him backwards toward the bed, I manage to stutter, ‘I—I’ve got to go soon.’ Because I’ve remembered I do. ‘I’m meeting Niamh for lunch today.’
His low chuckle brushes my skin, his expression one of doubt.
His eyes flick over me, my skin tingling further in response. ‘Not a very imaginative escape plan.’
‘But true,’ I protest. ‘Anyway, I can hardly lie around in bed all day, even if there isn’t a check-out time.’
‘I wouldn’t complain.’ His tone is honeyed and smooth. ‘In fact, I’d offer an incentive.’
My wits—currently rolling around somewhere in my non-existent knickers—gather together like iron filings drawn by a magnet, effectively cooling my dander. And by that, I mean cooch. ‘Not a workplace incentive,’ I say in warning, ‘because you said—’
‘It was a joke.’ With a sigh, he steps back to allow me to pass. ‘Let me shower and I’ll take you to meet your friend.’
Keen to leave my bewildered self behind, I decide to head into the living room to look for my dress.A dress, of which, there is no sign. A frantic few minutes follow as I move cushions from sofas and look under chairs. Why wouldn’t my dress be where I left it, lying in a heap along with my resolve?
My nose is flat to the floor and I’m almost under the sofa, rapidly losing my shit.
‘Fuck, fuck,fuckity, fuck!’ Sitting on my heels, I chuck a pillow across the room.
‘And here I was admiring yourmouth.’
My heart skips a beat as I peek over my shoulder to where Kai stands behind me, freshly showered and exquisitely dressed, one nonchalant shoulder leaning against the wall.
‘You have such an interesting turn of phrase. Is there a problem?’ All charm and innocence, he crosses his arms.
I keep my back to him, embarrassed I’ve been caught swearing so obviously. It’s a reflexive reaction, my mother’s words echoing in my ears.Nice girls don’t swear, Katherine. Only those with a limited vocabulary resort to profanity.
Vocabulary aside, I don’t think my mother understands the catharsis of a good fuck.
‘I can’t find my clothes,’ I mumble, castigating myself silently as I continue my search, hyper-conscious of his eyes. Probably on my arse.
Nice girls don’t fucking swear or fucking fuck.
‘I think you’d have more success in the bedroom.’
