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My thumb itches to sweep against his lips. I could close my eyes and read them. ‘Don’t you mean somethingwe’regoing to regret?’

Malakai’s look caresses my body, the silk on my skin, the dipping gape of my dress, the peaks of my chest, the soft spread of my thigh, before they reach mine again. The corner of his mouth curls slightly, dryly. ‘No.’

It’s irresistible trouble.I’m drowning in it, savouring the taste before it gets to my lungs. My knees are weakening. I choose to bait, reclaim some power– it’s addictive knowing I’ve got his focus, toying with it.

‘I’llregret it, though? You lost your touch? I’m impressed by the self-awareness.’ I tilt my head up at him. Malakai smiles at this shameless challenge, a grin that’s so genuine it’s startling. It’s decadent, delicious. The latent stress on his face has fled. He closes the gap between us in a single stride. He cocks his head, doesn’t touch me. ‘You’ll regret it because you’ll want to do it again. Then you can tell me if I’ve lost my touch.’ His words wrap round my throat and dive between my legs. I almost whimper. I call on the last scraps of sense and strength, managing an eye-roll. need to be able to pretend to myself that I tried to put up a fight. ‘And what makes you think that I’ll even let anything happen? Who do you think you are?’

Malakai shoots me a gently bemused look and leans forward so his lips hover against my ear, almost brushing my skin.

‘Kikiola, I’m the guy who knows exactly what you look like when you want to fuck.’ He gently brushes my braids from my shoulder, his breath now gliding over my collarbone, the heat sending me feverish, sweating, shivering. ‘And I know how you’re in the mood to be fucked too.’

A dam bursts, desire rushes through and something else too, and even without the immediate slickness I feel in my thong, I know that it’s over. No crying, maybe some begging. I need him inside me as soon as humanly possible. Denial is a river between my thighs.

I need one last confirmation that I’m not alone in this natural disaster.

‘All right. I got an idea,’ I say.

‘I’m all ears.’

‘We clearly have. . . unfinished physical business.’

‘Is that what we’re calling it?’

‘Well, what do you wanna call it?’

‘Fuck frisson,’ he declares.

‘No. As I was saying, how about we do a thirst amnesty? Get all this. . . inconvenient sexual tension out of the way once and for all. How do you feel about that?’

Malakai doesn’t move, and a spark of amusement lights up in his face. My eyes follow the quick flit of his gaze and drop below his waist to see his erection pressing against the material of his dress trousers, proud, present, transfixing. My mouth almost waters; my pussy pulses at the view. I want to feel how he feels about it. Multiple London landmarks on sight tonight: the Shard, the Gherkin, Malakai Korede’s hard-on for me.

‘Ifeel,’ he replies, ‘like downstairs the second you turned round and swayed your ass I knew I was fucked.’ Kai’s eyes lick along my form brazenly. ‘And I know you did that shit on purpose too.’

I smile wickedly, turn back towards the window and press myself against him in reply. I’mawake,an old thing in me, alive. This is a me unique to this space, this taste, under Malakai’s gaze. His hands automatically slide round my waist, silk against satin, and pull me flush against his increasingly hardening dick. A moan escapes my mouth at the impact. His hands glide from my hips up until they skim my breasts, a whisper of touch that causes me to buck against him, grinding in a tight circle that makes him gasp against my neck, frustration tightening his voice.

‘Shit, Scotch.’

His voice, strained under my power, is a high– one to which I worked hard to lose my addiction, and the heights it takes me to now, on first contact, are dizzying, startling.

Careful, Keeks. The familiarity is thrillingly foreign; I never thought I would feel this again, and I don’t want to stop, which means I probably should. Probably is brushed away with Malakai’s hands as he smooths up my dress to cup my breasts, squeezing them firmly in retaliation, and I whimper as his thumbs encircle my nipples, sending impulses to my core to slicken for him, get me ready for him– man, I am so ready for him.

‘You know how hard it was for me tonight? Trying to focus on conversation with other people when all I could think about is how sexy you look in this dress? How much I wanted your tits in my hands?’ His lips burn against my neck, his words branding me to his need. ‘How bad I wanted you in my mouth?’

He pinches the pebbles hard between his thumb and forefinger and I release a hiss of pleasure and a rush of lust wets my panties further. It’s anguished bliss; fuck, I missed this. I manage to push my voice out with the last of my reason, because I am now acutely aware of how dangerous this could be. ‘Rules. We. . . we need rules.’

Malakai’s face is against my neck, his nose and lips brushing my throat. ‘Whatever you want.’

The strength it takes not to melt is Olympian. ‘And I know you know this, and casual hook-ups are what you do. . .’

I feel Malakai pause, falter for a fraction of a second as I continue: ‘. . . but I just wanna confirm. This can only be a one-time thing.’

His chin grazes my shoulder with a nod. ‘Agreed.’ I reach behind me to stroke the bulge in his trousers, and his hand rises to my throat and squeezes in a way that makes my hips roll shamelessly, sluttily. ‘Just to. . . get it out of our system. So we can focus on our lives. No emotion involved.’ His teeth nip at my throat, fingers firm around it, feeling the vibrations of my moan. My eyes blur from pleasure, the city becoming nebulous dots of light under the heat of his hand. ‘This ain’t about getting back together.’ His mouth moves against my neck, the softness creating a sweet friction with the sharp pinch of his hungry little bites.

I sigh. ‘Mhmm. And we don’t talk about us.’

‘Good rule. And no pet names or nicknames. No “Kai”.’

I smart, but he’s right. Too dangerous, too familiar, too confusing to call each other what we did when we were in love.