Page 37

By the time I emerge from the bathroom, he’s setting a mug of coffee down on my side of the bed.

He straightens and spots me, his brown eyes brightening, a smile spreading across his devastatingly handsome face.

Christ . Look at him. He’s still in his boxers, his remarkable, muscled torso on full display.

He’s so perfect, it almost makes me want to cry.

I can’t believe I’ve had sex with this man. I can’t believe I’ve been so lucky.

‘Hey,’ he says.

It’s warm and familiar the way he speaks, just one word and an ache tugs at my chest to be near to him, to tangle my fingers through that unruly hair of his and hold on tight.

‘Hey,’ I respond, my heart thrumming.

Professional, Iris , my sensible brain reminds me. Be professional.

I clear my throat, tucking my hair behind my ear. I’ve just remembered I’m not wearing any make-up anymore and I drop my eyes to the floor, blushing at my fresh-faced appearance. He’s used to seeing me with all my armour on.

‘I used your cleanser and a toothbrush; I hope that’s okay.’

‘Of course. Use whatever you like. I thought you might want some coffee,’ he says, gesturing to the mug.

Thoughtful as well as pretty. This isn’t fair.

Nodding, I press my lips together. ‘Thanks. Do you have to leave to surf?’

‘I’ve got about ten minutes before I need to go.’

‘I should be coming with you, but I’d need to go change and get my stuff,’ I say regretfully. See what happens when you act irresponsibly, Iris? You’re left facing a walk of shame and missing out on important research for the feature . ‘Are you surfing Burgau?’

He shakes his head. ‘I’m going to head to Zavial; there’s better swell there today.’

‘By the time I sort myself out and get there, I’d probably have missed a lot. I can use this morning to write instead, I guess.’ I hesitate, before asking hopefully, ‘Will you be surfing later today?’

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘I did have a lesson booked with a student of mine, but she’s suffered a minor foot injury so I guess she and I will have to fill that time with something else.’

I swallow. Okay, maybe he wasn’t giving himself the same pep talk as me in the kitchen. My heart rate quickens at the idea of a repeat of last night.

‘I meant, would you be training again later this afternoon or evening,’ I explain, my voice coming out a tad higher pitched than usual.

He seems unfazed by my awkwardness. ‘Probably not. I need to go to the gym some point this afternoon.’

‘Tomorrow morning?’

‘Should be.’ He nods.

‘Right. Good. I can come to that session before my flight. I should have time.’

We fall into silence. I’m not usually shy, but I feel self-conscious about the way he’s looking at me, his eyes roaming over me hovering in the doorway. Suddenly, the woman in the bathroom telling me to resist him feels like a stranger, a nag who’s out to ruin my life.

I desperately try to find my resolve.

‘So,’ I begin in as firm a voice I can muster, ‘we should talk about what happened.’

‘Okay.’

‘I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, so how do you want to play this?’

He quirks a brow. ‘Play what, London?’

‘Well, in case you didn’t notice, we kind of crossed a line last night.’

‘I remember,’ he says with a cocky smile.

I respond with a stern look. ‘I shouldn’t have let it happen. I… should apologise.’

‘But we both know that’s not going to happen. And besides, I wouldn’t want you to.’ He folds his arms, his eyes fixed on me. ‘I don’t think either of us should apologise for what we did last night. Something that good should not be apologised for; it should be repeated.’

Fuck.

As I inhale sharply, he gives me a sultry look.

It’s so hard to think straight and take charge of a situation when he’s standing topless in front of me, reminding me of what we did and said, how he made me feel, how his lips made my skin tingle, how he felt inside me…

Clasping my hands behind my back, I lean against the doorframe. ‘Leo, it obviously shouldn’t have happened considering our relationship. Our professional relationship. So, how does it go from here?’

‘How do you want it to go?’ he asks, tilting his head.

‘We should keep it professional. I mean, we should get it back to being professional,’ I say, my voice wavering as the word professional loses all meaning in my head with its repetition.

‘We should pretend like nothing happened and focus on the article. I think… in the clear light of day, it’s, you know, obvious that we should stop this from going any further than it already has, which is already… far. Too far.’

‘Lots of “should”s being thrown about here, London. Okay, you’ve outlined what we should do. But that’s not an answer to my question. What do you want to do?’

My lips part and I wet them instinctively. He reads my reaction and smirks.

‘You know, I’m not sure this is the right time for this conversation,’ he continues in a playful tone, as though it’s been amusing for him to pretend I’m the one in control of the situation.

‘Oh? Why not?’ I ask haughtily.

He gestures to me. ‘You’re wearing my t-shirt.’

I glance down at it. My nipples are hard, pressing against the fabric and giving me away. When I look back up at him, I find his expression has darkened, sending a shudder of hot anticipation through me, tingles engulfing every inch of me.

‘Very observant of you, Leo,’ I say breezily, still trying to keep a grip on things despite my body’s betrayal. ‘Why does that matter?’

‘Because,’ he says, his gaze sharpening, ‘you look so fucking sexy, I couldn’t give a shit about what we should or shouldn’t do. I can only think about what I want to do.’

His candour makes me blush and I lower my eyes to smile, while he closes the space between us, moving across the room to me.

He slides one hand around my waist, drawing me into him, while the other tips my chin upwards, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip.

Flutters erupt uncontrollably in my stomach, my heart pounding so hard, it’s drumming in my ears.

How is it possible that he can make me feel this way?

Like nothing else matters but us in this moment, his dark eyes so entrancing, they make the rest of the world disappear.

‘So now we’ve clarified what I want to do, I’ll ask again: what do you want to do?’ he murmurs, his nose nudging mine, his mouth teasingly close. ‘You know, in the clear light of day as you say.’

‘I…’

‘Mm?’

Any hint of resolve left evaporates.

I reach up to kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck, and melting into him, my body relieved to be attached to his again.

The kiss is gentle at first, both of us taking it slow, before my fingers rake through his hair and give it a gentle tug.

He groans into my mouth and I smile against his lips.

The kiss deepens, my stomach twisting with anticipation.

When I nip at his soft, billowing bottom lip, he responds by pinning me against the doorframe hungrily.

My eyelids flutter open for a moment to meet his gaze, his eyes wild and fierce and greedy.

His mouth crashes against mine and I love that it feels like he can’t control himself anymore, his tongue rough and demanding.

My lips are going to be swollen and bruised, but I don’t care; I want more from him, everything he can give me, I want it.

I can feel his hard erection pressing against my hips and it sends a rippling wave of arousal pulsing through me.

His hands travel over my hips down to my thighs before they slip to the back of them and he hoists me up, my legs wrapping around him and squeezing his hips.

He moves across the room to the bed, lowering me gently onto my back, and I ache for him to be inside me again when he lowers himself on top of me.

‘Oh God,’ I say, my breathing ragged as he buries his face in my neck, his hand slipping under my t-shirt, pulling up the material to find and squeeze my breast. I gasp, tipping my head back. ‘This isn’t how this conversation was meant to go.’

‘Really?’ he says, his voice vibrating against my skin, heat building between my legs as he toys with my nipple. ‘Tell me how it was meant to go.’

‘I meant to tell you that we can’t do this again. I meant to…’ I pause to swallow, finding it hard to concentrate on words when his hand is now roaming down to the waistband of my dampened thong. ‘I meant to stop this.’

He pauses instantly, lifting his lips from my neck and rolling to one side of me, propping his head up on his elbow. I feel cold and lost without his body pressed to mine and instinctively want to drag his weight back on top of me.

‘If you want to stop this, then we stop this,’ he says, his voice steady and calm. ‘You say the word.’

Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply. ‘I don’t want to stop this.’

When my eyes flutter open, I find him watching me intently. I lift my hand to cup his face and he rests his cheek against my palm, his expression relaxing.

‘You sure?’

‘Yes, I want you ,’ I insist.

I only realise the intensity of my statement once I’ve said it.

It’s the tone and how I’m holding his face at the same time rather than the actual words, but the whole thing sounded weighted, more meaningful than I meant it to.

I was caught up in the moment, floating in the hallucinatory state caused by gazing into his eyes that second too long, and it sounded as if I’m after more than he can give me.

More than either of us can give each other.

This should never have happened in the first place. We live in different countries.

It can only ever be temporary.

I quickly drop my hand to my stomach, tearing my eyes from his.

‘You know what I think?’ he says suddenly.

‘What?’ I ask, my voice clipped and distant as I wallow in the shame of forgetting myself for a moment there. I’m usually so good at keeping my shit together.

He exhales. ‘I think you need to change your flight.’

I blink at him. ‘ What? ’