“Oh, that’s nice,” I reply, completely inanely.
He offers me a crooked smile. “Well, it could be very nice. For you,” he adds in case I didn’t get the message. Before I can say anything, he leans in and whispers, “Room thirty-nine.” Then he’s gone.
I stare at the empty doorway, completely nonplussed. Did he just say what I think he said?
“Another?”
I turn to find the barman watching me. “Eh?”
He gestures to my glass and says patiently, “Do you want another?”
I should do. I should have another drink, and then go to my room. I should be sensible because that kid might be over eighteen, but it’s not by much, and I’m thirty-five in human years, but more often lately I feel like I’m ninety.
His brow rises, and I shrug. “No, I’m fine, thank you.”
Grabbing my bags I leave the bar, heading towards reception to check in. The receptionist talks to me, but I’m lost in thought and her voice sounds as if she’s underwater. I suddenly realise that she’s holding my keycard out to me and I hasten to take it with a smile of thanks. I walk away and find myself standing in front of the lift. I look down at the keycard. Room twenty-two. Second floor. I should head up there now, unpack, and maybe have a kip before the dinner.
I press the button for the third floor.
chapter 6
. . .
Reuben
I’m still not sure what I’m doing by the time I’m standing in the corridor of the third floor. In front of me the door stands, the number thirty-nine beckoning to me like a siren. And still I hesitate.
What the fuck am I doing? This morning when I woke up, I knew I was coming to the Cotswolds to support Jez. I also knew I was going to hook up with Grey. Both of these are familiar things to me. Easy. No problems.
This? I look at the door again. This is a potential problem. I should definitely stage a strategic retreat. Go back and hide in my room away from the temptation of golden hair and sparkling eyes. I nod, pleased with my decision. This is maturity and I am finally embracing it.
Which is why it’s a complete surprise to watch my hand rise and knock on the door.Fuck.
I don’t have time to panic, because footsteps sound, the door swings open, and he’s there. He’s changed and is now wearing a pair of loose grey sweatpants that hang from his narrow hips showing a glimpse of a tight V-line, and a T-shirt advertising a gym which looks like it’s been spray-painted onto his lean body.
His eyes are sparkling, his hair a wavy mess, and his lips full and sweetly pink. I have an odd feeling of falling while standing still—as if this is a moment I need to memorise, because it’s going to be very important to me.
I’ve always had a special sense that has stood me well in times of danger—something that tells me to move or stay still. And now that sense is tingling, giving me a feeling that this evening will have an impact on me I can’t foresee yet. I shrug it away. I’m starting to sound like my godmother. Soon I’ll be ringing a psychic to tell me if it’s safe to get up in the morning.
He smirks and the moment is broken. “Thought it might be you.”
I cock my head. “Were you expecting someone else? Did you happen to proposition another poor man in the five minutes since I last saw you?”
“No.” He pulls a mock sad face. “What can I say? It’s been a slow day.” I have to fight the urge to smile. “I do usually move quickly, but luckily for you that day is not today.”
“You don’t know how special and sparkly that makes me feel.”
He laughs and grabs my hand to pull me into the room. “I can make you feelveryspecial,” he says with the confident arrogance of youth. He shuts the door behind us and leans against it as if preventing my exit. He needn’t worry. As soon as I saw him, my desire to flee vanished. I hope it hasn’t taken my common sense with it.
I set my bags down and we stare at each other for a long few seconds, the silence alive with possibilities. His lip tilts and then he begins to pull off his T-shirt.
“Wait,” I snap.
His hands stop instantly, God, he’s going to destroy me. Such easy obedience.
He raises one eyebrow. “Aren’t we fucking?”
I don’t know why he makes me feel like I need to clutch my pearls, but he has me oddly off-guard. “Well first, I’d definitely like to know that you’re over eighteen.”
