Page 48 of The Retreat

Imogen’s hands caught the edge of Talia’s collar, gripping it like an anchor as she pulled her into the narrow stall behind her. The door clattered shut. The lock slid home with a satisfying finality.

Talia looked at her, a little stunned. But not displeased. Lord, no. Not displeased at all.

Imogen didn’t wait. She surged forward, kissing her with a heat that surprised them both. Talia groaned against her mouth and kissed her back hard, her hands immediately finding Imogen’s waist.

The metal walls around them were cold, but Imogen felt feverish, urgent. This wasn’t cautious. It was messy and aching and exactly what she wanted.

Imogen threaded her fingers into Talia’s hair, guiding her, holding her. Talia kissed her like she’d been starving, like this had been held back too long, and Imogen let her—let the feeling drown her for a second. Maybe more than a second.

Talia’s thigh slotted between hers, and Imogen gasped, her breath catching at the contact. She bit down a sound, her hands tightening around the back of Talia’s head.

She was the one who started this. That thrilled and terrified her at the same time.

Talia drew back just enough to speak. ‘You sure?’

Imogen nodded, breathing hard. ‘Yes.’

‘You don’t have to decide anything right now,’ Talia said, brushing her knuckles across Imogen’s cheek.

‘I think it’s time we shut up,’ Imogen told her, coming back in to kiss her again.

It was like learning someone by touch alone. A thousand small yeses. Talia’s hand skimmed the side of her torso, fingers brushing under the fabric of her top. Imogen arched into it. Her whole body felt light, awake.

For a moment, the world was the size of this stall. Nothing outside existed.

Then, stupidly, inconveniently, Imogen’s brain twitched to life.

‘Shit,’ she murmured, breaking the kiss slightly. ‘We’ve been gone ages. What if—’

But Talia kissed her again before she could finish. A long, deep kiss that made the room spin again.

‘I don’t care,’ Talia whispered into her mouth. ‘Let them notice.’

Imogen half-laughed into the kiss, breathless, drunk on Talia. She hooked her hands in Talia’s belt loops. ‘Be honest.’

‘OK, I care a bit,’ Talia admitted. ‘Just not enough to stop.’

Talia’s hand slid to the waistband of her trousers. Imogen’s hips tilted without meaning to.

Then came the unmistakable squeak of the bathroom door opening.

They froze.

A voice, far too loud for the moment, cracked like a whip. ‘Hey! Talia? Are you in here? They’re just about to start the awards thing. You’re gonna miss it!’ cried Marcus.

Imogen’s eyes flew wide. Talia pulled back a fraction, lips damp, pupils blown, and gave her a slow blink of disbelief. They were both panting.

‘We’ll be right there,’ Imogen called out, her voice far too high.

‘Ohhh,’ Marcus said awkwardly. ‘You’re in there too, Alex? I see. OK. Bye.’

The footsteps retreated. The door squeaked again.

Silence.

Talia dropped her forehead to Imogen’s shoulder. ‘I’m going to kill him.’

Imogen laughed quietly, breath shaking. She reached up and brushed Talia’s hair back with fingers that were still trembling slightly.

‘I want to finish this later,’ Talia murmured in her ear.

‘You will,’ Imogen said. ‘We will.’

They kissed again, brief and charged. There was a promise in it. And then they fixed their clothes and stepped back into the world like nothing had happened.

Even though everything had.