He runs a foul-smelling wet wipe over my wound. I cover my eyes and hiss like Medusa. Sam can’t conceal his mirth, tongue sticking out.
‘My pain is funny to you?’
Sam’s fingers hold my arm, his other gliding over my wound with delicate swipes. He’s so close now, the smell of honeyemanating from him as sunlight trickles in through a frosted window, casting him in a yellow glow.
‘Worst bit over, now.’
The plastic wrap of the bandage crinkles before he places it on my arm, surprising me with his warm, gentle touch. He wraps the bandage around my wound, getting tighter and tighter, until my arm beings to ache.
‘Good enough?’
‘Tight.’
A pause, then we laugh.
His eyes hover over my face. My watch dings again, this time reminding me to breathe.
‘Perfect.’ Sam stands, suddenly crotch level to my gaze. And what a lovely level that is.
Clearing my throat, I step in front of the mirror, tugging at my unruly hair, prodding at my red skin. I dust dirt from my clothes, tutting when the stain doesn’t remove.
‘Wow. This is not how I wanted to arrive in Greece.’
‘How did you want to arrive?’
‘With dignity. A new man. Effortless. Like I do this often.’
‘You don’t do this much?’
‘I mean, I travel lots.’ I didn’t. ‘Never been to Greece, though.’
Very conscious of being in a bathroom with a half-naked man, I head to the door and step out into the hallway, squinting my eyes against the bright light. Plants hang from the windows, luscious green.
‘You like your plants?’
‘I like to think of myself as a sexy horticulturalist.’ He peers at one of the plants, tapping the soil. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘The Laurel Hotel.’
His eyebrows rise, but he says nothing.
‘This is crazy, Sam. When did you turn into such an adult?’
The apartment, the business, a life in Greece. Few people live Sam’s life.
‘I have no clue what I’m doing.’ Sam laughs. ‘Come here, Will. I can’t believe this.’
He hugs me, pulling me close to him. Whenever a stranger hugs me I seize up. Even when Ollie hugged me recently, I went rigid. But with Sam, I nuzzled into him, resting my head ever so slightly against the side of his. His apricot-scented hair makes me forget about Ollie, for a moment. And his honey skin replaces the memory of the fall in the bushes. It helps me ignore the ache in my arm and the strange weight in my stomach. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
‘You too.’
Breaking away, he leans against the windowsill, crossing his arms. His cerulean eyes dance over me. ‘Come to dinner tonight with me and Mum so we can catch up properly.’
Chapter Twelve
WILL
Day One
