I let him escalate the kiss and feel his hand creeping down, from my chest to my stomach to the top of my thighs. Squirming with anticipation but also determined not to be a doormat, I shift in my seat. ‘I can’t do this.’
‘No?’ He withdraws his hand.
I sigh. ‘I realise I keep giving you mixed signals. I wanted to jump you on your sofa when you made me that pizza. I almost asked you to come in the night of our spa, almost begged you to let the Ferrari turn into a pumpkin and take me quickly and forcefully against the mirror in the hall without a thought for feng shui. But I bottled it both times because our first kiss was so “horrible”.’ Raising my fingers in the air, I give the word imaginary quotation marks.
His face falls and he withdraws his hand. ‘Our kiss on Halloween? It was horrible?’
‘Please don’t say it again …’ trying not to show the hurt in my face, I find it spills out in my words ‘… because it stung.’
Now his eyes widen. ‘Our kiss … stung?’
I nod. ‘But you’re also giving me mixed signals. Whether you’ve changed your mind and decided I’ll do, or whether you’ve lowered the bar on what a good kiss is, or perhaps you’ve been necking with me to irritate Vince …’
He looks puzzled. ‘Why would I kiss you to annoy my dad? I didn’t even know you knew him at Halloween. I thought you looked sexy as hell in your prom dress, that’s why I kissed you, but I’d been wanting to do it for a very long time. And then you were off the scale erotic in the spa with your chest covered in cling film and the mud cracked enough to give me a glimpse of your … tell me, were both of those kisses horrible?’
‘Not to me.’
He sounds frustrated. ‘Then why did you hate them so much?’
‘I didn’t! You did. The first one anyway. After the joker with the microphone left, you said …’
He finishes my sentence, understanding dawning on him. ‘… “This is horrible.” I remember now. That is what I said, but I wasn’t referring to you. The humiliation of being asked to kiss the girl you’ve fancied for two years, dressed as a box of Kellogg’s Rice Krispies in front of a crowd of Dexters and Edwards? It was excruciating.’ He pauses, puts his hand back on my thigh. Then he pushes on a lever at the side of the seat, reclining me into a lower position. ‘And you let me walk out of the door.’
I rest my hand on his. Together, we move our fingers further up my thigh, closer to my core where my heart is thumping and my blood hurtling around my veins. Lifting his other hand to my chin, he brings me in for a kiss that’s so far from horrible I can’t imagine letting it end. And when it eventually does, I tell him we should get going before we’re reported for indecent behaviour. As he straightens his seat, I pluck a word from the air. ‘It’s Eros. The final crossword clue.’
‘I know.’
‘You completed it?’
‘Mentally.’
Realisation dawns. ‘You don’t actually need my help with the crosswords do you?’
‘I was runner-up in my category of the New York Spelling Bee. I’m pretty good with words.’
For a moment I wonder if we’ve plugged ourselves into the street grid after all as we are lit up from the front. The driver facing us flashes his full beam three times as he drives away.
‘I think he was telling us to get a room.’
‘I have one. I’ve even changed the sheets.’
In my hall, I throw caution to the wind and let him kiss me against the mirror after all. We are quiet so as not to wake Eva, and I stifle a gasp as he removes my top.
‘It’s warmer in bed,’ I tell him, my nipples peaking, but not from the cold. Leading him into my room, I immediately relieve him of his T-shirt and jumper. Running a finger over the muscle of his abs, I trace it down to a zone Eros would definitely approve of and he meets me with enthusiasm. And then our remaining clothes are flying everywhere, and I hope Eva has industrial strength earplugs as he is on top of me and there’s no stifling my gasps or his groans. He stops suddenly and reaches to the floor for his jacket. From his wallet he takes a small silver packet and rips off the corner. We make quick progress as I help roll the latex against his skin, but it’s sheer pleasure that rips through me as we come, one after another. And honestly, a five on the POP chart wouldn’t even begin to describe what just happened as I fall asleep on the barista who was meant to be a barrister, until he was meant to be with me.
Chapter 28
He leaves an IOU for breakfast on the pillow next to me. ‘I, Joe Morelli, owe you, Daisy Blane, one latte and one medium-sized croissant.’It feels like the simplest yet most romantic gesture anyone has ever made. I take the note with me to the van but come over all shy as I approach and my body tenses when I remember he’s seen the whole of me. And then my eyes alight on his, and he smiles. I’m lost for words, but I realise I don’t need them. He’s already making my brew. Nothing has changed and everything has changed.
I find my voice again. ‘What if I fancied a cup of tea or a large croissant instead?’
He tugs his hat down over his forehead as he centres the heating wand in the jug of milk. ‘Sorry, neither of those are available to you. You are Brazilian Milky.Always were and always will be. Amen.’
‘I think you’ll find that’s my porn name.’
‘I didn’t realise you had two jobs.’ He winks, as he finishes aerating the milk. He uses a stencil and some cocoa powder to inscribe a quick picture but doesn’t show me what it is. Instead, he whispers, ‘Anyway, I hope you’ll find this one isn’t too horrible.’
As I walk away I check out the latte art. He’s given me a kiss.
