Page 6 of Head Over Skis

But I’m not embarrassed because, are you kidding me? I’ve figured out how he can afford this house now. This guy must be a model, or a porn star. There’s no way a guy with abs like that would have a day job that requires clothing. It would be a disservice to women everywhere to be deprived of a glimpse of this. I can’t resist poking the muscles that line every patch of skin.

‘This isn’t real, right? Have you used contour on this?’

Having now run my hands all over it to check, I can confirm nothing smudges and it’s very much real.

‘Your turn,’ he says.

‘No, I think I’m good actually.’

He exhales playfully, amused as both his hands move to grip my waist.

‘I think you’re forgetting I’ve practically seen what’s underneath already, that white top didn’t hide anything. And if it makes you feel better, I liked what I saw. A lot.’

‘Yeah well, now it’s all perfectly hidden away underneath your porn-star shirt and I’m happy for it to stay that way.’

‘My what?’

I realise I’ve let another idle thought slip free and I rush to do something that will avoid me being forced into an explanation.

‘Okay fine, you win,’ I huff, hands thrown up in surrender. ‘But before I take this off may I remind you that I am a normal person, not one who clearly goes to the gym five times a day and lives off nothing but green juice drinks.’

Although I know that’s a lie because he was literally eating a McDonald’s when I collided with him, yet he still has a body like this. Oh, to have his genetics.

I pull my hair band out of the bunched-up fabric and slowly lift the T-shirt over my head. Once it lies on the floor beside me, Rory’s eyes begin to roam over me, and I feel goosebumps prickle my skin. He takes a step closer, his head dipping and his lips travelling down my neck, moving gradually lower and lower.

My head tips back against the wall, lost in the feeling of his lips on my skin. I push my hands through his hair, messing it up as his mouth moves from one side of my chest to the other. My eyes flutter open, and in the gap previously blocked by his head, it comes into view again.

That painting of the stupid snow-capped mountain range.

‘Everything okay? Do you want me to stop?’

I don’t realise until Rory speaks that I must’ve tensed up.

‘No, god no. It’s just…’

I trail off, not knowing where to look and not wanting him to catch the emotions that are likely splashed all over my face at the thoughts the painting has brought up.

I try to avoid both him and it, but the former becomes impossible when I feel his thumb hooking under my chin and lifting my face towards his. He scans over me, frowning at whatever he sees.

‘Okay, well, something clearly is wrong. We can talk about it or not, whatever you want, but either way you’re coming with me.’

‘Coming with you? Coming with you whe— oh!’

He lifts me off the chest of drawers with ease, one hand supporting my waist as I instinctively wrap myself around him. He carries me down the stairs, and I drop my head into the gap between his shoulder and jaw. I hear the skittering of paws as we enter the kitchen, and Rory swings around to place me on top of the island that stands in the middle of the room.

He places the same black T-shirt I was wearing earlier on the surface next to me, and I pull it over my head as he moves away, opening cupboards until a mug and a box of peppermint tea appear. Neither of us says anything as he fills up and flicks on the kettle before pouring boiling water over the tea bag and carrying it over to me. I take it wordlessly, feeling the steam brushing against my nose.

It’s funny how I was trying to avoid a night at home with a cup of tea, and now here I am doing exactly that. But at least I’m not doing it at Tilly’s, and I have company. Company that now has a name.

Rory.

I sound out his name in my head, debating whether I would’ve been able to guess it.

‘What sort of music do you like?’

His voice cuts through my thoughts and I realise I’ve been staring. The question throws me, and I come out with the first thing I can think of.

‘Musicals.’