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“We’re going for a walk. Outside,” he says, inclining his head toward the door.

“Why the headphones?” I keep my voice softer this time.

“It’s an immersive walk.” He pulls at my hand. “To make up for the lack of Ticketmaster Jesus. Come with me, I’ll show you.”

We step out of the hotel and into the cool night air, the door man holding the door open for us.

There are a lot of people around. It’s Covent Garden at Christmas, after all. Theo pulls me closer to protect me against the crowd. Despite the onslaught of the people surrounding us, the music makes me feel strangely grounded. Almost serene.

The song finishes and the next one – ‘Oh Holy Night’ – follows, the choir filling my ears, Theo’s body close against mine.

It takes a few minutes, but we finally escape the busy streets. Theo’s hand settles firmly on my back as we pass a tiny church squashed between two huge modern buildings. A sign on the front says it dates back to 1689.

A single candle flickers in the window, its light stubborn against the dark. Theo tightens his hold on me as he leads me down the street, past buildings that look unchanged by time. The road opens suddenly into a small square surrounded by lights and evergreen garlands. The sudden domesticity of it all washes over me.

At the center of the grassy square is a Christmas tree. It’s not huge like the ones in the touristy parts of town. Or the one in the hotel lobby. It’s maybe ten feet, with handmade decorations on it. There are laminated children’s drawings and teddy bears, along with clear plastic ornaments with little trinkets inside.

I turn to ask Theo what this is, but the words catch in my throat. He’s watching me, not the tree or any of the houses that surround us. There’s nothing casual or polite in his gaze. It’s hot enough to scorch.

A soft breath escapes from my mouth. He didn’t bring me here just to show me the lights or a pretty Christmas tree.

He brought me here for this.

And right as ‘Hark the Herald Angels’ begins, he leans in to capture my lips with his.

Our kiss outside of my room might have been steamy, but this is an inferno. He slides his hands around my back, pulling me closer and I’m so aware of how firm his body is. Everything about him feels so substantial. Sturdy, even. I cling to his shoulders, my head inclined as his dips low, our mouths moving, our tongues sliding, his hands cupping my waist like he’s afraid I might disappear. The choir sings in my ears, keeping the rest of the world at a distance. There’s nothing but him and the rhythm of our mouths and the bite of the cold air against us.

His ice cold fingers trail against my skin and I let out a welp.

“Sorry. Too cold?” he mouths.

I shake my head, unwilling to leave the heady trance that he’s creating. This time I slide my fingers into his silky hair, trailing them down to the nape of his neck where there’s a sliver of skin between his shirt collar and hairline.

I feel him hard against me, silently telling me he’s just as on fire as I am. When we run out of breath he reluctantly releases my mouth, his eyes dark as they clash with mine.

“Okay?” he asks.

I nod, a smile lifting my cheeks. Because I’m more than okay. My lips are tingling, my ears are full and I think I’ll remember this moment for the rest of my life.

He cups my face again, like he’s trying to imprint the softness of my skin on his palms. “How did you find this place?” I ask him, pulling the headphones down to my neck, because as delightful as the choir is, I want to hear his answer.

He glances down at my mouth. “I used to come here as a kid. During school holidays I was in London a lot, at the hotel. Nobody really cared where I was as long as I came home before night fell. So I’d come here.” He inclines his head at the flowerbeds. “I’d help the gardener sometimes. Or just sit here and watch him. He told me that his son died in a car accident. All the decorations on the tree are a tribute to him. I don’t know who decorates it now, he’s long since passed.” He lifts a brow. “But now and again, when everything gets too much, I still come here.”

I want to ask why nobody noticed he went missing for hours when he was a little boy. But I don’t. Instead I concentrate on now.

“Is everything too much today?” I ask him.

“How did you guess?”

It’s my turn to shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.” He curls his fingers around my neck. They’re warmer now. “But it’s over.”

“So there’s nothing stopping you from finally joining me for a nightcap in my room?”

I’m impressed by my own boldness. But time is short and Theo is… well, not.

“Nothing at all.” Then he’s quiet for a beat, like he’s considering something. “But I’d rather take you to my place.”