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Leo kisses me so deeply, so urgently, I almost stumble backwards, but his other hand is already there at the small of my back, taking my weight, catching me before I can even think of falling.

He presses my hips into his, while his tongue caresses mine, sending electric jolts crackling through my entire body, covering it in goosebumps and dissipating any sensible thoughts that were lingering in my mind.

Oh my fucking God.

I’d forgotten what it was like, to be kissed like this.

Luckily, my body remembers how to respond.

As his other hand drops to my hip, knocking my bag out its way, my arms fly to his neck, my fingers threading through his thick, messy hair like they’ve ached to do for days.

I arch my back and melt into him, gasping against his lips as he devours mine.

Everything about him is intoxicating: his warm, strong hands holding me in place against him, the woody scent of his cologne, the taste of his soft, full lips and the sensation of his tongue gliding against mine.

I give in. Completely, utterly, absolutely.

That’s how good this kiss is, sending me weak at the fucking knees, my body consumed by a fierce, feverish ache of wanting more of him.

My greediness for him makes me breathless as I kiss him back, moaning into his mouth, causing him to press me into him even harder, one hand roaming down the curve of my hip, the other in its place at the bottom of my spine.

A familiar ping threatens to interrupt us, but neither of us seem to care.

I hear the doors slide shut, but I’m not breaking this kiss, not yet.

It’s too good. I’m consumed by the feeling of his lips, the work of his tongue, the smell of his aftershave.

I’m at Leo’s mercy and when the lift jolts as it begins to go down, he has me locked in place, secured and safe, enveloped in his strong, muscular arms. I can feel him hard against me and the thought drives me wild.

Running my fingers through his hair and down to the nape of his neck, I nip at his lip, that billowing bottom lip I’ve become mildly obsessed with, and he groans, coming up for air to look at me, his eyes ablaze with need and wonder.

‘ Fuck ,’ he rasps.

The lift comes to a stop and the doors begin to open up to the ground floor.

Before I know what’s happening, Leo has stepped round so his back is now against the wall and he spins me to face the lift doors, his hands grabbing my hips and pulling me backwards against him, one hand snaking around my waist and locking me in.

Someone is waiting to get into the lift: a guy in his twenties. He starts when he sees us, his eyes brightening at the sight of Leo. I smile politely.

‘Leo,’ he says, standing aside to give us room to walk out. ‘ Tudo bem? ’

‘Hi Ernesto, it’s okay, we’re actually going back up,’ Leo replies. ‘We… forgot something.’

‘Okay.’ Ernesto steps in and presses the button for the third floor as well as the fourth, looking at me curiously. ‘ Olá .’

‘This is Iris,’ Leo says, holding me in place in front of him.

‘Hi,’ I say.

‘Hello Iris,’ Ernesto grins, standing to one side of the lift and turning his back to us.

He knows what’s going on here. We know he knows. My cheeks flush with heat.

We fall into silence.

The doors begin to close and up we go.

The air in here is charged with tension.

It must only take a few seconds for the lift to rise up to Ernesto’s floor, but it feels like an agonisingly long time.

I’m pressed up against Leo’s erection and my need for him grows almost unbearable as I feel him hard against my back, my fingernails digging into the skin of his forearm that’s around my waist. He’s dropped his other hand to the back of my thigh and his fingers are now trailing lightly up my skin, dragging the hem of my dress with them.

He brushes his lips against my hair, pressing a kiss to the back of my head.

God, I can’t wait to kiss him again . Now that I’ve tasted him, I’m a full-on addict.

My breathing shaky, I stare at the lift buttons on the wall lighting up one by one as we make our way up the floors, praying for this thing to go faster.

One.

Two.

Three.

Ping . Ernesto glances over his shoulder to give us a wave before he exits at his floor.

The doors slide back towards each other.

Leo spins me round to face him as soon as they shut.

‘Well, that was fucking torture,’ he states.

‘The worst,’ I breathe, before grabbing his head with both hands and pulling his mouth to mine.

I think my enthusiasm takes him by surprise at first, but he’s more than happy to throw his back into it, his large, warm hands gripping onto my hips as I crush my lips against his, desire pumping through my veins and making me lose all inhibitions.

When the doors open at his floor, he breaks the kiss and his hand finds mine, threading our fingers and leading me out of the lift as quickly as possible.

I clasp his hand tightly, biting my lip as I hazily go wherever he wants to take me, my aching feet miraculously cured by the power of Leo Silva’s lips.

I have to say, I feel a little bereft to leave that lift; I’m kind of fond of it now.

It’s where Leo first kissed me, the place where I discovered that my ginormous, inappropriate, burning crush is reciprocated.

I feel guilty for being mad at it when it was out of order.

It is now my favourite lift in the world.

Do people have favourite elevators? Is that a thing? Fuck it, I don’t care. I do.

His door is open and we’re inside. He’s pulling me into him and his hands are back where they belong: all over my body.

My back, my waist, my hips, my arse, roaming everywhere and anywhere – his hands are so large and strong that they make me feel tiny.

His mouth descends on mine again and my stomach twists with anticipation as I dissolve into the kiss, dropping my bag from my shoulder and chucking it across the floor, before pressing my hands against his solid, sculpted chest. My fingers fall to the hem of his t-shirt at his hips and I try to yank it up without breaking the kiss, desperate to touch him, to feel his bare skin beneath my fingertips.

He chuckles against my lips, getting the hint before pulling away and leading me by the hand towards his bedroom.

‘I’m pleased to see you’re the kind of guy who makes the bed in the mornings,’ I remark, noting the neat, white sheets and general tidiness of his room.

There’s no clutter anywhere, just a reading lamp and book on his bedside table and a huge, horizontal, framed photograph of turquoise-blue waves crashing on a golden beach in the warm-orange glow of sunset over his bed.

‘Throw cushions?’ I say, unable to hide my surprise when I spot them arranged against the pillows. ‘I didn’t have you down as a throw-cushion man.’

‘I’m a lot more sophisticated than you think, London.’ He grins, crinkles appearing around the corners of his lips, so gorgeous and sexy they send shivers down my spine.

He reaches for my other hand and tugs me towards him, but he slows things down now, lifting a hand to sweep my hair back over one shoulder, his eyes following his fingertips as they brush down the neckline of my dress, branching away across my collarbone.

My breath hitches as he looks at me, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

‘You look unbelievable in this dress. Fucking unbelievable. I can’t believe you wore this on a date with that dickhead,’ he mutters in a low, resentful voice.

‘You like it?’ I ask coyly.

‘It reminds me of the bikini you wore for our surf lesson yesterday. It’s similar at the top,’ he notes, his fingertips resting on my collarbone.

‘The yellow halterneck.’ I lift my eyebrows. ‘In a good way?’

His eyes darken as he runs his hands down to my hips.

‘You have no idea,’ he growls, pressing his forehead against mine and sending shivers down my spine. ‘It drove me fucking crazy, having to undo the zip of your wetsuit, seeing you in that yellow bikini, unable to untie it and touch you like I wanted to.’

I can barely breathe.

‘Show me,’ I hear myself say in a quiet, urgent voice. ‘Show me how you wanted to touch me.’

Time seems to stop for a moment as I meet his gaze.

‘Okay, London,’ he murmurs, ‘since you ask so nicely.’ He bends down and scoops me up in his arms again, just like when he carried me up the beach and up the stairs to my flat earlier. He grins at my gasp of surprise as I’m lifted in the air. ‘First, let’s get you off that injured foot.’

Walking across the room, he lowers me carefully down onto the bed, shoving the throw cushions aside, before moving to kneel between my knees.

Lifting his t-shirt, he pulls it off over his head and drops it down onto the floor beside the bed.

He takes a moment to gaze at me, my hair splayed out around his pillows, my teeth digging into my lower lip as I seize the opportunity to drink him in too.

My eyes scan his tanned, sculpted chest and abs, a torso I’ve seen so many times over the last couple of weeks but haven’t been allowed to touch.

Now, if only fleetingly, he gets to be mine. I ache for him to be close.

‘In your own time, Leo,’ I mutter impatiently.

‘I’m not rushing this,’ he says, and something about the seriousness of his tone makes my heart race.