Page 23 of Love in Tune

He said it oh-so-softly, then he held his hand out.

Honey stared at his hand for a second, her breath lodged almost painfully in her throat.

It was such a simple, powerful gesture, impossible to ignore or resist. She knew that she would get herself into all kinds of trouble really fast if she went into his flat, yet she placed her hand in his anyway and let him lead her across the hallway.

She’d never been inside the flat before, but it was a mirror image of her own place across the hall, or as hers had been when she’d moved in.

Pale walls, simple, uncluttered spaces designed for the rental market.

Over time she’d made her place her own; bright, primary-coloured coat hooks, a pretty blind that had come into the shop, a string of fairy lights woven into her bedstead.

Small touches that made a big difference.

Hal’s place lacked any of those things, but then he hadn’t been here long and it was pretty obvious that soft furnishings were meaningless in his life right now.

His earlier speech had told her many new things about him that she needed to mull over, but not right now.

Right now he was giving her that ten per cent of fabulous, and she didn’t want to waste a second of it.

‘In the lounge?’ she said.

‘It’s more conventional to do it in the bathroom,’ he said. ‘Assuming we’re still talking about shaving?’

Honey appreciated his attempt to make light of this unexpected turn of events and followed him along the hallway to the bathroom. He pulled the cord and illuminated the room with a wash of bright light, and then lowered the lid on the loo and sat on the closed seat.

‘So have you ever shaved anyone before?’ he asked.

‘You want me to do it?’ she said, surprised. She’d sort of figured on unpacking the razor and passing it to him to do it himself.

‘I’d think twice if it were a cut-throat, but I’m assuming it’s an electric safety razor. I’m fairly certain you can’t kill me.’

Honey picked open the seal on the box and slid the razor out into her hands.

‘Is there a trimmer?’ he asked. ‘You’ll need to take off the length with that before using the razor.’ He skimmed his hand over his jaw. ‘It’s too long to go at with a razor right away.’

Honey located the trimmer using the instruction leaflet and slotted it together, then plugged the cord into the socket beside the bathroom mirror.

The tiny room felt as if the walls were closing in, pressing her closer to Hal.

He turned his head to one side, exposing his neck, and then sighed and dropped his head.

‘Hold on, Honey. There’s something I need to do.’

After a couple of still seconds he lifted his face and reached for his dark glasses.

Honey froze, realising what he was going to do a second before he slid them slowly off, folding them and placing them carefully beside the sink.

Honey drew in a quiet breath and looked at him, really looked at him.

He sat as tense as a man in the dock waiting for judgment.

This was the first time he’d allowed her to see him without the protection of his shades, aside from the few seconds when he’d fallen in the hallway when they’d first met.

Hands down, Hal had the world’s most beautiful eyes. Warm brown flecked with golden amber shards, fringed all the way around with long dark lashes. Eyes to melt in, and it hurt her heart to know that such incredible eyes could no longer see.

‘Thank you,’ she breathed, thinking, thank you for trusting me .

He turned his head in profile again. ‘You could hardly do it with them stuck on my face. Start at one side and work your way around.’

Honey buzzed the trimmer into life in her hand, getting a feel for it before putting it anywhere near his face.

‘Are you sure about this, Hal?’ she said, suddenly apprehensive as she moved the razor towards him and then away again.

‘Relax, Honey. It doesn’t really matter if you balls it up. My social calendar is embarrassingly empty,’ he said. ‘Just do it.’

Honey braced her shoulders. She could do this. Stepping around into the tight space between Hal’s denim-clad legs and the bathroom counter and holding his chin lightly with one hand, she touched the trimmer against the dark fuzz at the side of his neck.

‘Like this?’ she said, uncertain and hyper-aware of the heat of his body close to hers.

‘Like that,’ he murmured as she stroked it up the length of his neck towards his jaw. ‘Try to keep your hand steady. You’re shaking.’

Honey watched as the trimmer sliced away the length from his beard in slow methodical strokes, revealing dark stubble in its place. Dark, sexy stubble. ‘Nice and easy,’ he whispered when she tried to go too fast, and then he closed his eyes. His words. Oh his quiet, sexy words.

The urge to kiss him was overwhelming. Stifling. She wanted to hear him murmur those same words when he was naked and hard in her hand. Was he turned on, too? His eyes were still closed as she pressed her fingertips to his jaw and tilted his head the other way.

‘No one’s ever done this for me before,’ he said, his words gravel in his throat. ‘I like it.’ His arm rested along the counter behind her, and her backside grazed his splayed palm when she squeezed around him.

‘I like it too,’ she said simply, no longer sure if she meant she liked shaving his beard or she liked the feel of his hand on her backside.

‘It’s hard to reach the other side of your head from here, the cord isn’t long enough.

Do you think you can twist around?’ She cast a critical eye over the small space.

‘I could. Or would it be easier if you …’ He reached out and put his hands on her waist to move her to stand in front of him, then pulled her closer so she had to straddle his knees. ‘Maybe you could sit here?’

Honey held the trimmer away from them for fear of doing him damage, because her whole body felt like it was shaking with awareness of his. Hal’s hands were still on her waist, and he applied gentle pressure, just enough to encourage her down until her backside hit his knees.

‘Better?’ he said, low and teasing.

‘Yes,’ she breathed.

‘Finish the job then,’ he said, and turned his head for her to carry on where she’d left off. Breathing carefully, she touched the trimmer against his Adam’s apple as he swallowed and wanted to follow every sweep of the razor with her mouth.

Hal’s hands still rested on her waist, warm through the thin cotton of her dress, and his thumbs started to stroke back and forth, as slow and easy as he’d told her to be with the razor.

‘How’s it looking?’ he asked as she swept it close to his ear and wanted to lick the hot skin there.

‘Really good, rock star. Really good.’ If only he knew. She turned the razor off and laid it down. ‘You’re probably done.’

He didn’t move his hands – in fact if anything, he held her down a little more firmly onto his lap.

‘Good. Now you need to run your hands over it to check it’s level.’

Honey swallowed hard, breathed shallowly, and lifted her hands up until she cradled his face between her palms. She couldn’t help herself; she closed her eyes and luxuriated in him as she learned his features with her fingers.

The proud slant of his cheekbones, the contours of his jaw, all of the time aware of his fingers massaging her waist.

‘I think I did a pretty good job for a beginner,’ she said, opening her eyes again to watch his lips part on a low sigh. He sighed again, more audibly this time, and his hands slid from her waist to cup her backside, pulling her forward until there was no space between them.

‘And I think that’s probably the best shave I’ve ever had,’ he said, and then he slid his hands into her hair and kissed her; the hot, open-mouthed kiss that she’d been fantasising about for weeks.

‘Hal,’ she breathed his name into the heat of his mouth and let her arms slide around his neck.

She wasn’t kissing him because Tash and Nell had suggested it; at that moment they never even entered her head.

They couldn’t, because there was no room in her head for anyone but Hal as she threaded her fingers into the thick, dark silk of his hair, their bodies pressed together, banging heart against banging heart.

Hal was lost. He knew he had to call a halt, but the words wouldn’t come because Honey felt so damn good in his arms. He’d imagined how she’d feel a hundred times over, and she felt a million times better. Softer. Warmer. And responsive, so fucking responsive.

Over the last few weeks he’d told himself no over and over again when it came to Honey.

No, I won’t answer when she knocks tonight.

No, I won’t eat dinner with her. No, I won’t kiss her.

He’d denied himself constantly, and then she’d pushed his buttons tonight and he’d opened the door and lost the battle.

She smelled of strawberries and she sounded like he’d hurt her, and yet still she found it in herself to tell him how much she liked him, and she’d bought him a goddamn gift.

No became yes all too easily when she was around, and he held her close and let his resolve melt like ice cubes in an inferno.

‘I want you,’ he heard himself gasp. ‘I want you so fucking much.’

‘I’m yours,’ she whispered, dragging his t-shirt over his head.

Honey was the first woman he’d touched since the accident, the first woman to touch him, and he only wished like hell that he could see the beauty of the girl on his lap.

He knew she was beautiful, because his hands and his heart told him so.

Yours, she’d said. She wasn’t, and she never could be, but right now he desperately wanted her to be.