If I want it.
Never have four words ever seemed so loaded. The weight of them echo behind his eyes as they stare into mine.
The moonlight has crept through the curtains, painting a line across the apartment and partially lighting up his face. It glows against his brown skin, settling in his smile lines and enhancing the chisel of his jaw. I start to lean in further; I can’t help it, I’m drawn to his face and swept up in the night and the drinks and his kindness. He doesn’t recoil or fidget, just stays rooted in place, the slight part in his lips tempting me to push further.
‘And if I don’t want?’ I ask slowly.
I shift even closer, leaving less than a step between us. We’re nose to nose, mouth to mouth and quickly tongue to tongue as his slides between my teeth and I hear myself sigh with pleasure.
His hand strokes my face, slides to my neck and slowly travels down my body, stopping at my waist to easily lift me onto the counter in one impeccably smooth scoop. I feel every twitch of his muscles as he presses up against me and I match them beat for beat as I roll into him. My legs are wrapped around his waist – I don’t know how or when they got there, but I grip them even tighter around him as I breathe him in. I haven’t kissed like this in so long. If I’m honest, maybe ever. My fingers reach for his head and I try to commit the feel of his lips to my memory.
His mouth leaves mine, quickly peppering kisses down my body as his hand tentatively slides under my top. I throw my head back in pleasure and he presses on further, fingers grazing the cotton of my stupid comfy travel bra. I silently curse at myself and my choices. If I’d known where today would end, I would have toughed out the Eurostar in something underwired and lacy. But I could have never seen this coming. I could have never seen him coming. I sink my fingers into his back as he sucks hard at my neck.
Then his hands drop and the space between us grows cold. I open my eyes to find him back to standing inches away.
‘We shouldn’t do this.’ He’s panting.
I stare back, confused.
‘You’re drunk,’ he says.
I argue back. ‘So are you.’
‘Yeah, and I shouldn’t have done this,’ he says.
‘Oh.’ I drop my eyes to the floor.
I guess it felt too good to be true because it was. We moved too fast and too booze-headedly and he came to his senses at the most terrible time possible. Now I’m drunk and dishevelled on his kitchen counter after I abandoned my other sleeping arrangements, and I’m supposed to what? Go to his spare room as if nothing happened? I cross my arms over my chest and letmy head fall forward, but all too quickly his hand scoops my chin, lifting my eyes to his, now sparked with concern.
‘It’s not you, Am. I just said I wouldn’t do this, you know? No more casual flings, remember?’
I swallow hard and recall our conversation at the bar. All at once, a wave of guilt flushes through my body.
I have a tendency to jump into things without thought and then abandon them as soon as I’m met with consequences. Clearly Noah is different. Clearly Noah has the forethought to put a pin in bad choices before they go too far. I shouldn’t poison that. One day with the guy and I almost made him relapse.
‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry, this was silly. It’s for the best that we stop while we can.’
I slip down off the counter but he doesn’t move back, leaving us pressed close, chest to chest. We don’t speak – we don’t dare, but our eyes stay locked, mine entranced and his unmistakably hungry. He takes a deep breath, fingers trembling as they skate up my palm before wrapping tightly around my wrist. I bite back a growl as the flesh sinks into mine. When I look back towards him, his eyes have darkened.
‘I didn’t to want to stop. Trust me,’ he says in a whisper, staring at my lips.
He keeps his gaze fixed on them and sways ever so slightly, likely due to the drinks in his system. It’s enchanting. He’s enchanting. But he was also very right, which is why I press my hand against his chest as he leans in for round two.
‘You can’t break your promise this soon,’ I say. ‘You came out here for a reason and you can’t blow it on me.’
His face drops and I feel the regret so deeply, but I vow not to give in to it.
‘Where was that spare room?’ I ask.
He releases my wrist, forcing a meek smile.
‘Down the hall. Just over there.’ He motions.
I use the movement as he points to slide out from my spot and start lugging my case in the general direction. It’s for the best – I know it is. But that doesn’t stop the urge I have to go back to his room and jump right in that bed.
As I traipse down the hall, I try to come up with a list of more reasons why we shouldn’t have sex. I muster three at best, all flimsy enough to be picked apart as quickly as they’re formed. Nothing sticks, nothing’s strong... nothing, that is, apart from his painstakingly upsetting resolution.
‘Amorie?’ he calls out softly.
