Page 20 of The Rest is History

Elodie

‘ O oh. I like the sexy secretary look.’

A glance across the threshold of the History office on Monday morning shows Zara hanging back in her chair, grinning widely at me, and Charlie’s head snapping up towards the doorway at her words. He takes me in, and I touch my neck self-consciously, tearing my eyes away from him to answer Zara.

‘Thanks.’ I stand there like an idiot. ‘Morning, guys,’ I say, like I practised in the mirror at home. Like I haven’t spent every waking second (and most of my sleeping ones) replaying what happened in that innocuous upstairs room at the palace.

The ignition of our argument into something neither of us could resist.

Charlie Vaughan’s tongue devouring me.

His long fingers inside me.

My body spiralling heavenward as his thumb traced circles on my flesh.

Going up in flames around him.

‘Good morning,’ Charlie says. His voice is expressionless, but his face is quite the opposite. Whew. The heat in his eyes has me wanting to reach simultaneously for a fan and a fresh pair of knickers.

I cross the room unsteadily and put my bag on the floor. I’ve been dreading and dying for this moment all weekend.

‘So. New top?’ Zara insists.

‘Yeah. I bought it yesterday.’

I am, in fact, wearing a sleeveless, silky pussy-bow blouse that I bought in a panic yesterday on the high street along with a sleeveless polo-neck. I won’t be showing my neck in public for a few days, and considering the warmth of the weather, that’s a difficult feat to pull off.

‘It’s cute,’ she says.

‘Thanks.’

I hazard a glance at Charlie. He’s facing his screen, but he’s immobile. An urge to stir up mischief hits me hard.

‘Actually,’ I continue, ‘I got bitten so badly on my neck this weekend that I had to wear something to hide it.’

At his laptop, Charlie freezes so completely that it’s comedic.

Zara sucks in a sympathetic breath through her teeth. ‘Oh no! Brutal. I hate when that happens. Midges, do you think?’

‘Dunno,’ I say airily. ‘But I got absolutely eaten alive. Totally devoured.’

‘Ugh. Is it itchy? I’m sure our resident first-aider’s got some antihistamine cream in the kit—right, Charlie?’

He mutters something strangled without turning around, and I swear, this moment is priceless.

‘Not itchy,’ I concede. ‘Just… a bit unsightly.’

‘Oh well.’ She jumps out of her chair and pats me on the shoulder. ‘Bad luck, babes. I’m gonna grab a granola pot from downstairs. Want one?’

‘Sure.’ I hand her my security pass so she can use it for payment, but she swats my hand away.

‘My treat. You can buy next time.’

‘Okay. Thanks.’

She heads out and I slide into my chair, every nerve ending in my body conscious that I’m alone with Charlie.

I’ve wondered all weekend how he’d react when he saw me.

He was so weird last week after our kiss, but this was way more than a kiss.

I came on his fingers, for Chrissakes. I let him undo me enough to have an orgasm in front of the man I have zero working relationship with.

And he looked so turned on at the end that I thought he might pass out.

I don’t have to wait very long, because he’s out of his chair in a flash and I feel the weight of his hand on my seat back.

I look up at him.

He stares down at me.

I swallow.

‘Elodie,’ he says, a little roughly, like he’s trying my name out for size. I have to make a real effort not to close my eyes in ecstasy at the way my name on his lips makes me feel.

‘Yeah?’

‘Did I mark your neck?’ he asks in a low, gruff voice that does things to some reptilian part of my brain.

‘Understatement,’ I tell him, and his eyes darken.

‘Can I see?’

I eye him suspiciously as I get to my feet. I’m not sure if he wants to apologise for marking my skin or gloat over branding his woman like a total neanderthal.

Ug ug.

He takes a step back so I can push my chair away from the desk, but not enough to give me space. He’s right there in my face, and he’s so gorgeous it’s astonishing.

Clean shaven today. Obviously. I’m pretty sure he thinks sporting stubble at school is, like, sacrilegious. He’s in a crisp white polo shirt, impeccably pressed, and beige chinos. As usual, his dark hair is slightly damp, and, as usual, he looks good enough to eat.

His long-lashed eyes are flitting between my mouth and my neck. I, in turn, watch his face as I reach up, find the end of the silk tie at my neck, and pull it slowly. The tie tumbles open down over my chest, and those firm, gorgeous lips of his part.

I know what I’m doing.

I know that one little move gave the impression of my undressing for him.

But still. He asked to see my neck.

Not taking my eyes off him, I reach up and unwind the tie so it’s no longer concealing my neck before gathering up my hair and pulling it over my left shoulder.

I wasn’t kidding when I said understatement. The guy went crazy on my neck to the extent that I had to come clean to my shocked and tickled-pink sister, because it looked like I’d just come home from a high school disco. I mean, who thinks it’s okay to give love bites at our age?

That said, every lick, every suck, every nip at my neck from his beautiful mouth was so fucking perfect that I’d let him mark every inch of my body like that.

I tilt my neck to the left, pulling the collar of the blouse down a little further and exposing the most hickey-tastic section. I watch his shocked intake of breath through my eyelashes.

‘Jesus.’ He reaches up and runs his thumb over my skin, and the gesture reminds me so much of the way he touched me on Saturday that my stomach flips.

He’s so close to me. His nostrils flare slightly as he strokes my skin, and his breath is warm on my neck. I spent the weekend mentally preparing myself for the silent treatment, or at least for him to be deeply awkward again.

I wasn’t expecting this.

He swallows, hard. ‘Elodie. I’m so sorry.’

His blue eyes flit to mine, and we hold the gaze.

He doesn’t look sorry in the slightest, and I tell him so with a smile.

He frowns.

‘It’s hard for me to be sorry about what happened. Impossible, even. But I’m sorry that my showing my… appreciation for your beautiful neck had consequences.’

I nearly laugh. Consequences is such a teacher word.

‘I’m not sorry,’ I tell him. ‘You shouldn’t be, either.’

He looks at me, opens his mouth, and closes it again.

‘Let’s get you put back together,’ he says finally, and I criss-cross the silk ties at the back of my neck, pulling them flush over my skin so they hide all of our consequences before crossing them at the front.

‘Allow me,’ he says. I lower my hands and stand there as he ties the fabric in a bow, his face inches from mine, the scent of his cologne wafting over me in a gorgeously fresh, masculine flurry of herbs.

But better than that is the smell of his skin, a smell that’s new to me and yet has already found its way under my skin.

‘So.’ His tone is conversational, his eyes downcast and fixed on his task at hand. ‘How was the rest of your weekend?’

He’s so deadpan I almost burst out laughing. This guy either has no clue or is absolutely hilarious. I genuinely can’t work out which.

I consider. ‘Anticlimactic?’

The corners of his mouth twitch.

‘Aside from my emergency shopping spree for high-necked tops, that is.’

He presses his lips together.

‘And yours?’ I ask.

‘Largely uneventful.’ He pulls the bow taut and adjusts the fabric. ‘I may have given my wrist a repetitive strain injury, though.’

My mouth drops open in shock as he fixes me with a heated look, his sky-blue gaze raking over my face. I stare at him, slack-jawed.

Charlie Vaughan spent the weekend getting himself off and thinking of me?

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

That’s my new favourite thing he’s ever said to me.

Even better than exquisite.

‘Have a good day, Elodie.’ He takes a step backwards. ‘And for fuck’s sake, try to stick to the lesson plans.’

I know, without having to check in a mirror, that he’s tied me the perfect bow.