Page 29 of The Rest is History

Elodie

I have a bigger question for Charlie. One I need to ask him so badly that’s scorching a hole in my heart. I hold it back for when it’s dark, and I’m lying in his arms in his cloud of a bed. The light is dim enough to encourage confidences but bright enough for me to drink in his features.

We’re both sated after Round Three.

He pinned me down against his pillows and moved inside me in a way that was feverish and intimate and transcendent. That made my breath still in my lungs. Now he’s next to me as we regain our wits, his arm around me and his leg flung over me.

‘God,’ he groans into the crook of my neck. ‘It’s like the dam has well and truly burst. I have absolutely no clue how I’ve managed to share an office with you all these months and not be inside you the whole fucking time.’

I have my opening.

‘About that.’

‘The answer’s yes. We can definitely lock Zara out of the office and do this on Monday. Or go back to our romantic stationery cupboard.’

I roll into him and nudge his nose with mine. ‘You said some things earlier that suggested you may have been… interested. For some time.’

‘Yes.’ His voice is low but open. Trusting. His fingers brush the skin of my back.

‘Well… why didn’t you try something? I mean, I know it’s always tricky as colleagues.

But you could have at least been a bit friendly.

’ I clear my throat. The rejection I feel over months of Charlie ignoring me and talking down to me and seemingly disapproving of me still stings.

‘We could have been mates and taken it from there.’

He’s silent for such a long moment that I start mentally backtracking. Regretting my honesty.

But no.

He deserves to be called out for his behaviour.

He didn’t need to give me such a rough ride this academic year.

He pulls his arm out from under me and I have a brief, horrible feeling that he’s pulling away fully, but he reaches behind him and rotates the dimmer switch, brightening the room enough that we can see each other more clearly. He props himself up on one elbow, gazing down at me.

‘It was a deliberate strategy, distancing myself from you.’ He runs a couple of fingers along my collarbone and hesitates before continuing.

‘I hope I don’t freak you out, but you should know I’ve been completely infatuated with you since my very first glimpse of you.

’ He swallows. ‘There are other words I could use to tell you how I feel—stronger words—but I really don’t want you running out that door just yet.

So I’ll protect my heart for a little while longer, if that’s okay. ’

Oh my God. Oh my God. I lie there and stare up at him, disbelief and overwhelm and joy battling it out in my heart.

I know what this man can mean to me if I let him.

What he already means to me. And it’s so much I feel like I could burst with it.

Especially after having him inside my body twice this evening.

Experiencing the connection, the sense of rightness, when we’re as close as we can be.

I’ve had feelings for him for so long, but over these past few weeks they’ve morphed from a physical attraction and a perverse fascination with him (he’s definitely had the treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen thing working for him) to far more.

To desperate, burning hunger for his body (hello, Hampton Court hookup) and an addiction to him . When he lets me in.

That’s the thing.

The more he opens himself up to me, the faster I fall. The harder I fall.

‘Charlie—’

‘You don’t have to say anything. I want to explain.

’ He brushes my hair off my face and leaves his hand where it is, cupping my jaw.

I feel so outrageously safe with him like this.

It’s staggering that a guy I’ve had next to zero relationship with for most of the time I’ve known him can break down my defences so quickly.

‘Okay.’

He breathes out hard, his nostrils flaring.

‘I’m not a guy to joke around and flirt; you’ve probably worked that out.’

I smirk.

‘But I had a plan to keep myself away from you, Elodie. It was the only way I could protect myself.’

‘Because we’re colleagues? I’m sure Phil would be okay with it if we came clean. Other staff members are in relationships, aren’t they?’

‘No, not because we’re colleagues. Because’—he hesitates, and I get the sense he’s choosing his words carefully—‘no matter how I feel about you, I can’t make you happy, and we don’t have a future.’

To my horror, instant tears prick my eyes.

It’s such a shitty thing to say to me when I’m lying here, minutes after I let him inside my body.

What is wrong with this guy? I’m not asking him to marry me.

He’s the one who’s just admitted some pretty strong feelings, so for him to go all unilateral and we have no future on me is just—grrr!

It’s infuriating. And totally obnoxious.

‘It’s nice to know you’ve already made that decision for both of us,’ I say. My throat is thick with emotion, and I can hear it in my voice.

‘No.’ His hand moves around my neck again, and he screws his eyes shut for a second.

‘That’s not what I’m saying. I am fucking crazy about you.

I never intended for any of this to happen, but I can’t stay away from you, and I know it’s a cliche, but you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Ever. That said, I’ve been married once, and I don’t intend to do it again.

A family is not in my future. And the reason I’ve tried to stay the hell away from you is that you make me want things I have no business wanting. ’

I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with this information. He’s lying here, admitting things about his feelings while being pig-headed about where our options lie. It’s infuriating, and more than that, it’s making my head spin.

‘You seem to have a very clear plan,’ I tell him frostily.

‘Listen to me.’ He bends and kisses me on the lips, and it’s soft, and heavenly, but he needs to do better than that.

‘I have no fucking plan. I have no fucking clue. All I know is that I’m not good enough for you, sweetheart, but despite my best efforts, I haven’t been able to resist you.

Because you’re beautiful, and fiery, and intelligent, and you make my head spin.

And I can’t walk away from you. Not just yet.

So please don’t walk away from me. I can’t—I don’t know what the fuck to do, but please don’t leave. ’

It doesn’t take a genius, or a therapist, to work out what’s going on. His marriage ended and somehow he got the memo that he was damaged.

Unworthy of love.

Of making someone happy.

Of being happy himself.

But the good news is that at this very moment, he seems as much under my spell as I am under his. As incapable of extricating himself as I am. More, maybe.

So there’s only one thing to do.

Two things, really.

Show him he deserves to be happy.

Persuade him I’m the woman for the job.

I sling an arm around his neck and pull him down on top of me.

‘Just—never say never,’ I plead. ‘Keep an open mind about us. Please. Because this is really, really good.’