‘If you didn’t mean those, what part of me is amazing then? Other than my brain?’
Popping my eyes open, I found her leaning over me, sunshine outlining her silhouette in gold. I could just lift a hand to her face, raise myself up and kiss her. That image shook me just as much as the picnic-blanket fucking.
‘Your sense of humour,’ I answered.
‘The only reason I survived as long as I did in cycling,’ she quipped with a smug little smile that killed me.
‘Your eyes.’ Maybe I hammed it up a little, but my voice came out rough and low.
She poked me in the shoulder. ‘Where are you getting these lines? A cheesy action flick with a disappointing romantic subplot?’
‘Remind me never to watch a movie with you.’
‘Fine by me.’
Her tongue dipped out to brush her lower lip and I wasn’t sure if this was teasing or foreplay. I’d woefully misjudged this dynamic in September, but yesterday…
That kiss had not been nothing.
‘What part ofmeis most impressive?’ It slipped out before I’d thought it through, but I tacked on a cocky smile to hide how desperately I wanted to know if she’d grown some respect for me over the past six years – not that I’d done much to earn it.
Her brows shot up. ‘Colin, I had no idea your ego required so much stroking!’
I grinned up at her. ‘You can just say my palmarès, if you like,’ I joked. I’d had such a cracker of a season, sheshouldbe impressed with my list of wins.
She tapped that dimpled chin as though considering my suggestion.
‘My thighs?’ I tried out, punching a fist on one leg.
She leaned over me and my lungs started playing up. What the hell was she doing? She was going to kill me. ‘Your sense of humour,’ she said softly, tightening up everything inside me.
She thought I was funny? Did that mean the years of pranks might one day be forgiven? Maybe if I admitted—
‘And your eyes,’ she continued, before straightening with a chuckle.
Ah, shit, I’d been had. She flopped back down beside me as she laughed, clutching her stomach, and it didn’t matter if she was making fun of me, that sound was enough to turn me into a knot of wants and needs, none of them helpful. Mostly, I wanted her to keep laughing.
I rolled my head to the side to watch her, both disappointed and strung tight with anticipation when her laughter petered out and she met my gaze. Then she spoke suddenly.
‘You know, maybe I needed this.’
‘Hmm?’
‘Letting it all out, getting back on the bike and having a fucking cry.’
‘And a laugh.’
She nodded, probably rubbing bits of grass into her hair.
‘Maybe if you give it all some ti—’
‘Kiss me.’
I didn’t hesitate. Rolling onto my side and up onto an elbow, I dropped my lips to hers with a huff of relief. She opened her mouth, drawing me deeper, and I followed her cue, tangling my fingers in her hair and tightening my hand. A low moan built in her throat and I soaked in the sound through my skin.
Her mouth was like nothing else, hot, consuming and thrumming with enthusiasm – with delight. Her hands came up to slide over my jersey, clutching at me in vain before slipping up to my face, my hair, where she had better purchase.
Keeping up firm strokes of my lips and tongue that heated the kiss past what was bearable, my thumb traced the line of her throat, down further, and I splayed my fingers along her collarbone. I wanted closer, deeper, my body delighted to finally have her beneath me, the background hum of want finally vindicated.
