But this adrenaline… it was hot and absorbing – and acute. It came from touching her, from the kiss that had also made his blood surge. The gratification was like an infrared panel heating his whole body. Sexual gratification, yes, but also something else.
When was the last time someone had touched him like that? Out on the terrace, where they’d kissed as the setting sun blazed his back, her hands had burnt just as hot. Practical, stoic Toni had wanted her hands on him and the knowledge was a sugar hit to his body and soul.
Like a sugar hit, he could already sense the way he could crash afterwards – when she left.
Staring up at the ceiling as he got his breath back, Gabri’s mind was crowded with doubts that he didn’t want – not with Toni. Had it been too fast? Too rough? Too desperate? He should have cooked her dinner first.
He probably should have kept some boundaries in this friendship, but he struggled to regret anything when his nerves were still buzzing and when he turned his head, he was struck by the view of her, fragile and sleepy, next to him.
In fact, she was asleep.
Sweet, strong Toni. He wanted to kiss every freckle on her cheeks, but she looked exhausted – and that surely wasn’t on her bucket list. It wasn’t on his, either. None of this was, but a few days together wouldn’t upset his careful balance. She didn’t expect more than he could give – sometimes, he thought she expected too little.
Dinner was something he could easily take care of – a way he could easily take care of her – so he eased carefully out of the bed and headed for the kitchen.
When she emerged from the bedroom an hour later, bleary-eyed, her dress askew, that shot of adrenaline rose in his chest again. A warning rose with it:just because something feels good doesn’t mean it’s good for you.
Just because she expected too little didn’t mean they wouldn’t get into trouble when she left.
‘The second day in a row I forgot to buy fish,’ he said instead of a greeting – instead of blurting out any of his dangerous thoughts. ‘But I have potatoes from the garden, with garlic and rosemary and beans.’
‘It smells amazing.’
‘Are you… hungry?’ He wasn’t sure whether that was the question he’d intended to ask. She looked droopy and spent and he wasn’t certain he liked that when he was feeling rather good.
‘I think I’m past hunger, actually. I’m sure my appetite will come back in a minute.’
‘God, I’m sorry. We were out all day in the sun and then we… I didn’t make any dinner before?—’
‘It’s all right,’ she said with a limp laugh. ‘You did ask if I wanted dinner.’
Needing to gather his thoughts, he forced his focus on to the food, drizzling olive oil over the salad and plucking sprigs of basil from the pot by the door.
‘Do you mind eating inside? With a light on, the insects…’
‘Oh, it’s almost dark. I haven’t seen the night on Elba,’ she commented absently. Gabri completed the thought in his head: because she’d only been here three days and that’s all the time it had taken to end up in bed together. He wondered what she thought of that.
By the time he’d set all the dishes on the table and they sat down to eat, he’d worked himself up to a level he hadn’t felt in years. While Toni slowly shook herself awake, he composed and recomposed his question several times before he managed to utter it.
‘Are you sure you’re all right, after…? I didn’t mean for things to… so quickly. Did we talk about it sufficiently?’
Her hand on his arm stopped his words immediately. She gave his forearm a firm squeeze.Stop. The message reached him through his skin.
‘I was the one who said we didn’t have to talk. You don’t need to worry. I can look after myself – you know I have to. I wanted this just as much as you did – probably more.’ Her self-deprecating shrug charmed him all over again. ‘Areyouokay?’
Loudly clinking his knife and fork as he sliced into a potato, he mumbled, ‘Not really,’ before bringing the piece to his mouth. He chewed vigorously.
‘What do you mean?’
Pushing away from the table, he scraped his chair along the flagstones until he was facing her and scrubbed his chin with his hands, feeling the bristles that must have caused those faint red marks on her neck. She waited, studying him expectantly, and he marvelled for what felt like the fiftieth time at her grace, the way she took him as he was with just a wry smile.
‘We’re friends, right? I’m not sure friends are supposed to… feel like that together.’
Her sigh was deep and he hated that he’d caused it. ‘I’m trying not to overthink this, but you’re not helping.’
‘I’m overthinking it for both of us,’ he muttered.
Her hand landed on his shoulder and then continued on to his cheek. The surge of delight under his skin was a fresh reminder of how seldom he’d been touched over the past five years. Did it even matter what they were when she would be gone in a little over a week – or sooner, since they should probably stop all of this when she went into wedding-planner mode?
