I turned away because I couldn’t bear watching him go. I was struggling to get the door open now. Using my mum’s massive set of keys meant it was like finding a needle in a haystack to get hold of our door key. Beneath the rattle of metal, there was a soft hush of stockinged feet on wood and then Nick was next to me. His arms came around me from behind and he placed a kiss of the nape of my neck.
‘I changed my mind,’ he whispered against my skin. ‘Can I come in?’
I held still, weak under the onslaught of his heat, flush against my back, his arms around my stomach. I could tell him to go. I could put the distance back between us, but I didn’t want that. I wanted him, and not just for tonight.
The key appeared in my hand as though I’d had the right one the whole time and I unlocked the door.
Chapter Sixteen
He let go of me as I pushed the door open and he followed me in.
I didn’t turn the main lights on, but our white fibre-optic Christmas tree cycled softly through a prism of colours in the corner of our front room and it was enough to see that I really should have thought things through before inviting him up. The place was a mess.
In my hurry to get down to the hotel every day, I hadn’t put away or cleaned a single thing in the flat. There were coffee cups and magazines on the table by the red blinking light of the phone; a cardigan, and tights and – oh Lord – a bra, over the back of the sofa. The curtains had been opened in a haphazard way, one pulled and fastened neatly. My mum must’ve done that before she left because I was obviously a complete slob.
I hurried away to scoop up my dirty laundry and went straight into the kitchenette to throw it in the washing machine. ‘Sorry about the mess.’
‘Mess?’ He glanced around as though he hadn’t even been looking and then shook his head. ‘Don’t worry. It’s actually nice to be somewhere that feels like…a home. All I’ve done is stay in hotel rooms the last few months.’
‘You haven’t been home in months? Is that normal for pilots?’
He moved closer, leaning his shoulder against the post on the counter that separated the kitchenette from the lounge area. His presence felt like such a tenuous thing though. Despite his leaning, he was anything but relaxed. His shoulders were drawn in like he expected an attack and was going to bolt at the slightest provocation. Eventually he pulled a one-syllable answer out from his boots: ‘No.’
An admission. Another tiny step closer.
I flicked the down lights on underneath the kitchen cupboards and decided that I was just going to do it. I was going to talk to him about it. He’d shown me that he wanted to try so maybe if I just asked him, it would help. And I wanted to help him so much.
‘What happened this evening? Why didn’t you stay for the carolling? I saw you leave all of a sudden and then Stephen followed.’ He ran his index finger over the edge of the laminate on the worktop. ‘Was it my singing? You can tell me.’ I tried to lighten the moment and he huffed a laugh.
‘No, it wasn’t your singing. It was lovely. Too lovely.’ He drew in a shaky breath. ‘I couldn’t bear it anymore. My mum would’ve loved it here.’ He gulped in another breath like he was struggling to get oxygen, like he’d jumped into the deep end and was struggling to keep his head above the water. My own chest tightened. ‘She was always trying so hard to make it a special time and me and Stephen would just be lazy and ungrateful and arguing, ruining it for her—’
He broke off again. He was shaking and I went to him, sliding my arms around his waist and pressing my ear to his chest. Holding him so hard, like I could hold him together if I just squeezed him tightly enough.
At first, he was still, frozen. And then his arms went around me too and he lowered his head to my shoulder, pressing his face into the crook of my neck.
I couldn’t offer him any words about his relationship with his mum, or thoughts on his and Stephen’s behaviour – though I suspected it wasn’t much different to any other kids’ behaviour at Christmas – but I could do this. I could hold him.
When the tiny tremors stilled, he pulled back, turning his face away from me.
‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was gruff and cold.
‘Don’t do that.’ I caught his cheek in my hand and forced him to look at me. ‘Please don’t hide from me anymore. It doesn’t work anyway. I see you, Nick. I see that you’re kind and funny and hurting. And sexy,’ I added, rubbing my thumb along his jaw and stroking my fingertips through the short hair behind his ear. I was getting greedy for intimacy with him. The more little signs he showed to me, that he wanted to let me in, the more I wanted to shove my foot into the door to stop him from closing it. It was making me reckless, but I was so tired I didn’t have the energy to wrestle myself under control. ‘My God are you sexy.’
He stared at me, blue eyes burning with too many emotions for either of us to understand, until one of us moved closer – I didn’t know if it was him or me.
There was no finesse to the kisses this time, no smooth charming moves; he was all raw energy, buzzing with need, and I wanted to pour myself into him. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and tiptoed up. His hand ran straight down to my backside and pulled me in tight against him. I gasped, opening my mouth, so we were plummeting into a fathomless kiss, where there was no air, no light, just us. Every muscle, every nerve in my body needed to relive the feel of him. The rightness, the heat, the blur, of how we’d been last night and today in the snow, but it was somehow more. There was an insistent tug in my chest that was somewhere between excitement and uncontrollable sobbing.
He dragged himself away, shaking his head. ‘No. I shouldn’t do this.’ He put his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length. ‘I’m a mess, Beth. I don’t want to take advantage of you. You don’t deserve it.’
I took a big gulp of air and struggled not to peel his hands from my shoulders so I could launch myself into his arms.
‘I think I’m the best judge of what I deserve, thank you. You aren’t taking advantage of me. If anything, it’s the other way around. You’re clearly vulnerable at the moment, and here I am waking you up in the middle of the night to drag you to my lair and have my wicked way with you.’
He laughed a little and the tension in his arms eased but he didn’t let me any closer. I touched his hands, where they rested on my shoulders. Anything for skin-to-skin contact. I was going to start having some serious withdrawal symptoms soon if I couldn’t get at him. The hollow of his cheek looked so deep in the soft light from the kitchen, I wanted to run my fingers along it, feel the dip and the prickle of his stubble, so fair but definitely there. He looked unblinkingly into my eyes – probably worried if he lost eye contact I would attack.
‘I see you too, Beth,’ he murmured. ‘You’re so fearless. I’m such a coward. Being near you makes me feel stronger but I’m scared it’s because I’m absorbing it from you. Like I’m a weird energy vampire.’
‘I’m quite into the vampire thing so you don’t need to worry,’ I had to joke. I couldn’t take it seriously that this man thought I wasfearless. That he was stronger from being with me.
