Was he even aware of the action? Or was this nothing more than a rehearsed dance he’d planned ahead of time? He must touch countless people at the surgery all day. This would be nothing to him.
“Okay.”Bloody hell, I couldn’t have sounded more eager. Having him in my space was making me hazy. Making my pulse thud tackily in my ears. Low in my belly. “And . . .kissing?” God. I’d practically gasped it.
“No kissing.” Suddenly his hand fell away. His shoulders straightened, expression pulling tight, as unreadable as always. It felt like whiplash. “Unless we really have to. Kissing . . . complicates things.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I croaked.
Good. That was good. For the best, even. Exactly what I’d planned to tell him. Then, why did I feel like I’d been dropped off a cliff?
I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to shake some sense into myself. When I opened them, all I could see was Alistair. Straight nose, firm lips. Hair sliding over his forehead while he bent over the notebook to writeNo kissingbeneath our names.
The memory of yesterday – the kiss – fizzed through me. Only this time the replay was different.
Mouths open. Ravenous. His hands in my hair. My spine curving beneath his palm. The hint of mint I hadn’t got to taste on his tongue, though I’d been oh-so close. I’d beg on my knees to experience a kiss like that a single time in my life.
I could ask him now. Just once . . . for practice.
“Alistair—” I licked my dry lips.
“You’ve got chocolate on your shirt.”
“What?” I swallowed. Trying to collect myself.
“You’ve got . . . I assume it’s chocolate.” He pointed to his own chest. “Right here.”
I glanced down, deflating against the sofa cushions. Yes, that was indeed a chocolate stain, right over my left nipple. And I was still bare from the thighs down. I didn’t even recall changing out of my work clothes last night. Too much caffeine, not enough food.
Standing, he crossed into my messy kitchen and turned on the tap, dipped his fingers beneath the stream, then grabbed a clean towel from the stack. “Is there something wrong with your boiler too?”
“I hope not.” I couldn’t afford to fix one more damn thing in this house.
“The water’s running cold.” He switched it off and opened the boiler cupboard, pressing buttons I hadn’t even known existed.
“Oh.” Yawning, I followed him into the kitchen and opened the box of cereal on the counter, scooping a handful into my mouth. “That’s because the hot water’s switched off.”
“Why?”
“Too expensive.” I shovelled another handful of cerealinto my mouth, barely aware of what I was saying, when he turned, fixing me with a dark look.
“Please tell me you’re joking?”
The implication of my words made the cereal clump in a painful knot at the back of my throat. “I heat the water for Teddy, obviously, before she takes her bath at night. I swear . . . I’m not a bad mum, I’mnot, I just . . . I’m the only one who takes cold showers. Never Teddy.”
It felt like watching a domino effect. His entire face shuttering behind a cold mask before I stopped speaking. He stared back at me, much too close. Until I began to feel like a probed piece of meat. He really was ridiculously tall. No one had the right to exceed six feet tall. “How long?”
“I can shower in a minute or two so long as I don’t need to wash my hair.”
“I’m not asking how long it takes you to shower, Lang. I want to know how long you’ve been taking cold showers.”
My brain tripped.Whydidthatmatter?“I don’t know. Since we moved in.” The first month had been the worst. Early spring still felt like winter in the mornings, and I’d dressed for the day with chattering teeth.
Something sparked in his eyes. Like he’d just solved a maths equation that had been niggling at him. “Is that why you’re always using your hairdryer?”
I swallowed, unwilling to answer as his nostrils flared. Probably remembering every time he’d thumped on the wall while I held the heat to my frozen toes. “Sometimes. But it’s really not a big—”
“From now on you can shower at my place.”
“What? That’s – that’s ridiculous.” A little splutter accompanied my words.
