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“No, you can’t. I’m the one who ruined it and I’m happy to pay.” I shift my feet, feeling the same way I did back when I was sixteen, about to ask a girl to my first proper date. “Look, I was just about to eat—”
“Oh. Of course.” She springs to her feet, tugging at the jersey. “I’ll get out of your way.”
“Don’t… Please sit down. At least have another drink with me.” I move over, hemming her in on one side, making it harder for her to bolt. “I didn’t mean you should go; I’m trying to ask you to stay for dinner.”
She starts to decline then a shadow crosses her face. “You don’t mind?”
I cup her shoulder, my thumb stroking the edge of her collarbone, watching the way her body relaxes under my touch. That more than anything else, decides me. We’re made for each other. “If I didn’t want you to have a drink, I wouldn’t offer. If I didn’t want you to stay for dinner…”
Her eyes search mine as she waits for me to finish, then she nods. “You wouldn’t offer.”
“Exactly.” I pull my phone out, and sit down, tugging on her hand until she sits beside me. The length of her thigh is warm against mine, still buzzing with the last of her tremors. “Now tell me what you like to eat.”
“You’re ordering off your phone?”
“How else do you expect me to organise dinner? Cook something myself?”
She bumps me with her shoulder, smile broadening. “Guess not but with a house this size, you should have a chef.”
“To open my cereal boxes each morning? I’m sure that’d go down a treat.”
Her blinks are long and flirtatious and delicious. I touch under her chin to tilt her head back—just to look, not tokiss.Okay,probablynot to kiss—then realise she’s bleeding.
“Oh,” she jerks away from me, putting her hand to the wound. “Sorry. I hurt my chin.”
I stand and tug her by the hand until she follows me, leading the way into my bedroom, through to the en suite, and grabbing a first aid kit from under the sink. Before she can protest, I lift her to sit on the vanity.
“Hey. You don’t need to get me onto things, you know. I’m an adult.”
I roll my eyes, tearing off a piece of cotton and bending so I can look at the underside of her chin. “A baby adult at best.”
“You’d better hope that’s a reference to my age and not my size, buddy.”
She bares her teeth in pretend ferocity, looking slightly miffed when I burst out laughing. “Yeah, it was one of those. How’d you hurt yourself under here?”
“Just talented.”
I press the cotton until the cut stops bleeding, noting its clean edges. A knife? A razor? I could imagine pressing a blade to someone’s throat and my grip slipping, making the cut. Or doing it on purpose as a visible warning.
It could be my upbringing, but I can’t think of another reason and bitter anger freezes my gut. The sooner I find who’s responsible, the better.
But she doesn’t need to see that side of me.
I wipe the thin wound with a fresh piece of gauze soaked in saline, then cover it with a plaster. “There you go. All better.”
Paisley smiles at me and I realise I’m positioned between her legs, her skirt hiked up to mid-thigh. I rest my hand on one and revel in her heat. In the energy between us.
I could just take her now, not bothering with the ploy to get her unconscious. I could watch the ecstasy cross her features as I make her come on my cock instead of my fingers, driving into her while watching her reactions, using them to spur me on.
“Maybe if you knew what you were doing, I wouldn’t have to go outside our marriage!”
The yelled memory shocks me, and I jerk away, pulse thumping so hard I can see it in my eyes. I busy my fingers with packing away the kit, stowing it in the cupboard as she lets herself down from the countertop.
This is why I don’t think about Saski. This is why fucking someone who looks so similar is an exercise in despair.
“You still haven’t picked somewhere to order from.”
She stands with her hands resting on the vanity behind her, the position making her chest stick out a little. Something my cock notices with immediate delight.
