The somehow familiar words curl around my ears and explode low inside my body like a series of small fireworks. I close my eyes, my mind filled with memories that can’t be mine.In the dark, hands and lips seeking skin.
‘Isobel?’
He turns his head over his shoulder at the same moment I open my eyes. I’m suddenly aware how close we are and how full his lips are.
Why does this feel familiar?
‘Have we’—I can feel my cheeks starting to heat—‘did we... no, never mind. I, erm, just need a mug.’
Wordlessly, he reaches up, then passes a blue mug over his shoulder. I turn and rinse it, peeling off the sticker denoting it as new, which proves nothing, as far as I’m concerned. Turning then, I fill it almost to the rim with the black stuff.That’s coffee, not Guinness.Over the hum of the open fridge door, I hear Greg clear his throat.
‘There was, some... some over clothing touching.’
‘Oh, God.’ The carton of milk hits the countertop with a thump. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say at the same time he does.
‘Oh, no, this will be my fault,’ I answer, resignation heavy in my tone.
‘No, I think maybe I rolled into you first.’ He moves the skillet, turning to face me, folding his hands into his armpits.
‘Believe me, this isn’t the first time—’
‘I doubt this is either of our first rodeo.’ His rather sanguine cuts me off. And for the record, the way this man rolls hisr’ssends my mindrollinginto the gutter.
Imagine the heights that rolling tongue could achieve.
‘You’ve had complaints, too?’ I ask, chancing a look up at him because, despite his reassurances, this is embarrassing.
‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly say complaints.’ He rubs his hand across the back of his neck, gifting me with the view of one very pronounced bicep. Or tricep. Hell, it’s big enough to be both! But I’m not thinking about his muscles at all. Even if I have been molesting him in his sleep.
‘What would you say, then?’
Everything south of my zipper clenches as he stares up at me from under his lashes for a beat. A beat that seems to last an eternity.
‘I’d say that sleepy sex is usually fun. Not that we got that far, just so you know.’
‘Oh, I know,’ I answer with an embarrassed and rueful laugh. ‘It would’ve taken a lot of time or a pair of tailors shears to get me out of those layers.’
‘I reckon I’d have been up for the challenge had you been awake.’ His eyes sparkle dark and complicit, though it’s hard to tell if he’s being serious or having a little fun at my expense.
‘Yes, well,’ I answer, turning to face the small window. ‘It looks like we won’t be in each other’s hair for very much longer.’ Bright sunlight spills in from the high set window, so bright, in fact, that I find, despite the stone windowsill being at least a foot deep, I can’t bear the strength of it. ‘It looks like it turned out nice today.’
My coffee is hot and strong, and a little like the man beside me. I can’t afford to dwell on those thoughts, though, so I lose myself in the bitter aroma as I bring it to my mouth.
‘It turned out something all right.’
A hint of something in his tone brings my head up fast, along with a splash of coffee to my chest. ‘Oh, sh-sugar!’ I place my cup down, fanning the wool away from my skin.
‘You okay?’ Definite concern this time as Greg passes me a cloth to blot the small spill. ‘Do you need ice?’
‘No, it won’t help the stain.’
‘I meant for the burn.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ I answer as my phone vibrates against my butt. ‘No doubt this’ll be Mo,’ I say, pulling it out with a narrowed glance. The time blinks up at me from the screen. Nine o’clock in the morning is still a little on the early side for him. ‘It looks like Big Brother is about to tell us which one of us has to leave,’ I say brightly.
‘What?’
‘You know, like the TV show?’
