The barman is grinning, looking between us, but stops when I give him my iciest glare. I hold my hand out for the key, which he plonks into my palm.
Inside the room I immediately see that “small double” was a generous description. This bed is barely bigger than a single. The decor is nice at least—fresh white cotton sheets and pretty silvery damask wallpaper. If I were alone, I’d be quite pleased at the thought of spending an evening in here. But I’m not alone.
“Shall I shower first, or you?” I ask, grimacing at my dirty feet and the still-wet dress which, while perfect for a fancy party, is going to be hellish to try to sleep in. I open the wardrobe, pleased to see a few extra sheets in there. I’ll just wrap myself up in one of those as a makeshift nightie, and then I won’t be in danger of scratching my eye out with an errant feather.
“Actually you go first,” I say. “I need to take my braids out.”
Without a word, Cooper disappears into the bathroom. I hear the hiss of the shower, clouds of fragrant steam billowing out from beneath the door. I get an unsolicited image of him in there. Ugh. The steam is making the room even warmer. I open the window. It takes three yanks to get the stiff handle to loosen.
I organise the pillows so that there’s one at each end of the bed, and then perch gingerly on the edge and wait impatiently for him to finish so I can wash this whole day off. When Cooper eventually emerges in a haze of steam, a towel slung around his hips, I gulp like a nervous cartoon character. His arms are huge and strong looking, and his torso is as muscled as I suspected, still glistening with water droplets from the shower. I’ve never seen a naked man up close and, oh holy heck, it’s disorienting. How can someone with the face of a surly English professor casually have the body of a Dothraki? I wonder what it must be like to wander through life knowing you had all that beneath your clothes. I bet that’s why he has so many women buzzing around his place—he wants someone to show off to, probably. I tut.
Cooper stands completely still and watches me watching him, a surprised grin on his face. He raises an eyebrow.
“It’s purely a scientific interest,” I blurt out. “I’ve never seen a naked man up close and so naturally I am a little curious.”
“What about Jonah? He remained clothed while you hooked up all over town?”
Shit. My brain is malfunctioning. “Hot water is for me!” I inexplicably say, disappearing into the bathroom and leaning back against the doorframe to catch my breath.
Out of the shower, I take the earrings over to Cooper. He’s already lying in the bed, propped up at the opposite end to the headboard.
The extra sheet has worked well as a nightie—I’ve managed to wrap it around myself twice, tucking it in at the top so it’s as secure as if I had been sewn into it.
“Here you go,” I say, pressing the jewels into his hands.“Thank you for letting me use them.” I massage my earlobes, which I believe the earrings have now lengthened by at least a couple of millimetres.
Cooper slips the earrings into the inside pocket of his jacket hanging off the bedpost beside him.
“I’m sorry about Jonah,” he says, resting his hands behind his head. His makeshift shapewear bandage has gone, replaced with a Band-Aid he must have gotten from the first aid kit in the bathroom cabinet.
I head over to the window to close the blind, only to find that it’s somehow jammed at the top. I pull hard and a bunch of dust flies into the air. I decide to just leave it alone; while the rainfall has cooled the air a little, it’s still boiling hot, and the room isn’t overlooked by anything other than the tall trees of the countryside.
“His costume was a bit obscure.”
“I liked it,” I say in a small voice.
I liked everything about Jonah. Or at least I thought I did. But then at the gala, the sparkling, magical connection I felt with him in Evermore had changed.
I switch off the bedside lamp, and the full moon shines brightly into the room, casting a silvery glow over everything, including Cooper, who looks like he’s been sculpted from platinum.
I avert my eyes and climb into the bed, scooching myself as close to the edge as I can without falling out.
A breeze rustles outside the window, bringing the scent of wet leaves and fresh, clean, post-rain air. I’m struck by how beautiful it smells—like open space and honeysuckle. I’ve never smelt anything like that before in London. They might have a Diptyque store at Evermore, but surely only Earth could smell likethis. I take in a lungful of air and try to commit the exact scent to memory.
“Are you crying?” Cooper asks, grazing the silence.
“No. Not at all.”
Cooper shuffles and then, from the opposite end of the bed, his hand grabs mine. I gasp with the shock of it. But I don’t pull away. I can’t seem to.
My tears stop.
We stay there in the silence for around five minutes just holding each other’s hands. I’m starting to wonder if Cooper has fallen asleep, when he slowly begins to circle his thumb across the base of my thumb. It must take him a whole fifteen seconds to complete one circle. A bolt of desire kicks right in the pit of my stomach, which shocks me enough that I jolt, my foot making contact with some part of Cooper’s face.
“Fuck!” Cooper growls, sitting up in the bed, hand no longer holding mine. I bolt upright to see him covering his nose with both hands. “You did that on purpose.”
“I didn’t!”
He drops his hands, eyes locking onto mine. “You absolutely did.”
