Page 50 of Italy and Forever

‘You’re not,’ she said, which made him smile. ‘But coming from you it’s… different.’

He didn’t want to know how it was different.

She went so still in his arms that he knew she was summoning the courage to say something and he braced himself. ‘Do you…? Are you going to stay? Here, tonight? I don’t expect you to. It’s probably not a very casual thing to do.’

He was floored to realise he’d assumed he’d stay without questioning it. ‘Do you want me to?’

‘Well, you’re nice and warm and it’s pretty cold outside.’

‘You want me as a heater?’

‘That’s casual, yeah? Am I doing it right? I am kind of a snuggler, though. I should warn you.’

‘I’ve been warned.’ His fingertips drifted up her back and down again, making her exhale on a sigh.

Her lips brushed his earlobe and he didn’t know what game they were playing, but there was a smile on his face. ‘If you’re here anyway…’

‘Keeping you warm…’

‘Maybe we should… confirm that we really are that good in bed.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You need reminding already?’

She stretched, tossing her head in a self-conscious attempt at seduction that was entirely unnecessary. He was seduced every time she opened her mouth, every time she moved. ‘It’s just that, in my memory, it was utterly spectacular. Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight.’

Slowly and purposefully, he rolled her onto her back and propped himself on one elbow, his hand stroking smoothly up from her hip. Just that touch was enough to convince him they hadn’t been imagining anything.

He dropped his lips to her collarbone. ‘You definitely weren’t thinking straight.’

She slung her arms around him and he hated to think how he would feel right now if she’d asked him to leave.

‘But I’d be happy to mess up your thoughts again and remind you of exactly how hot I can make you.’

He stared as she lifted her shoulders and tipped her head back in a giggle. He wanted to photograph it, bottle it – carry around a tiny 3D image of Ginny Weller exactly like this. ‘Pretty’ didn’t begin to cover it.

21

‘Ginny? Are you there? I tried to call you, but it went straight to voicemail.’

The muffled voice, as well as a muted pounding on the door, dragged Ginny out of the most wonderful fever dream. Her bed was a sauna and her body was languid and a little raw, as though she’d spent the night at a luxury spa having her skin softened and her muscles lifted. But the dream had been adult-rated and involved⁠—

She bolted upright, frantically patting the space next to her in the bed. The figure in it was real. Her sauna-bed had been powered by the off-the-scale hotness of Rhys, in the flesh – all the flesh, she noticed, her gaze trailing down his bare back.

Her lungs seized as she thought about his body against hers, the ways they’d fitted together last night, as though she’d finally discovered what had been wrong between the two of them all this time: they hadn’t been doing this.

Oh dear… Dating ban, she reminded herself firmly. No flowers and chocolates and Valentine’s Day. She was happy enough with the sex. In all honesty, she felt a little… changed. Hopefully in a good way.

‘Ginny? It’s Sophie.’

‘Fuck,’ she whispered through her teeth. ‘Rhys, wake up!’

He mumbled something unintelligible.

‘Uh, give me a minute,’ she called through the door, sliding out of bed and looking around frantically for whatever she’d been wearing before he’d arrived last night. That was right: flannel pyjamas. She vaguely remembered hurriedly opening the buttons. In the clear light of morning, she wondered why she hadn’t just pulled it off over her head. She really hadn’t been thinking straight since the moment he’d asked to come in.

Her cheeks blossomed with heat.

‘Rhys!’ she hissed, giving him a shake after she’d wrenched on her pyjama bottoms. She hoped her undies were somewhere out of sight, because she couldn’t find them. ‘Sophie’s at the door!’