Page 67 of Head Over Skis

I know I should let him go. Tilly would tell me I’m being boring, ‘unfun’ or however she described me. And I know I said I would try the casual fling thing out, but somewhere in between homemade muffins and watching the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, I’ve started to fall into something I know I should stop.

What would be the point in letting myself get close to him, only to board a flight at the end of next week and likely never see him again? This trip is a holiday, nothing more. If he stays, I’ll get so wrapped up in him I’ll fool myself into thinking this could last forever, only to blink and be back on Tilly’s floor, catching a packed-out tube to my job. Returning to my normal life.

And yet.

‘Stay.’

He doesn’t move straight away. Every second that goes by where he hesitates, I want to squeeze my eyes shut. Hide myself from the embarrassment that he’ll say no. Make the sensible choice.

‘Okay.’

My heart starts hammering against my chest as he reaches one arm down to grip the bottom of his shirt.

‘Do you mind? I’m a radiator otherwise.’

I shake my head, watching as he lifts his arm and pulls his T-shirt over his head. The room’s dark, only the dim spotlights still lit, which cast shadows along the lines that ripple across his chest. He doesn’t stop there as he pulls down the waistband of his joggers, revealing a pair of tight black boxers underneath.

At the now-familiar sight of him, a rush of heat spreads over my cheeks, across my chest, then lower. Before I have long enough to fully appreciate him, he lifts the side of the blanket and settles himself beneath it, leaving us both lying on our backs, arms close but no part of our bodies touching. As if neither of us knows whether to make a move.

The first time we slept together, we were only strangers, certain we’d never meet again. And yesterday, when we nearly did it again, it was hot and hasty and without proper consideration. But tonight is different.

I stare up at the ceiling and the chandelier that hangs down in between the dimmed spotlights. It strikes me that the room has enough light without it, and it’s there purely for decoration. Everything in this penthouse hints at wealth, a level that I’ve never known. My childhood was lived month to month. Pay cheque to pay cheque. And even now when I have enough money to support both myself and them, it’s still nothing compared to this.

‘What’s it like?’

The pillowcase to my right crinkles as Rory turns his head. ‘What’s what like?’

‘All of it.’ I lift up my hands, and gesture all around us. ‘Living here. Owning all of this.’

The silence stretches so long I turn my own head to try and read his features. Words spring to my mind as I imagine what it could be like, having that kind of stability. The comfort of it. The ability to take a risk or follow a dream without having to put a time limit on it before accepting you’ll have to move on. Freeing, magical, wonderful.

‘Lonely.’

His answer echoes around us, a word that featured nowhere on my own list. I wonder whether he’s being sarcastic, because I’ve seen the way everyone here likes him. But there’s a weight behind his eyes that tells me it’s his truth.

I should’ve considered that having so many friends here does nothing to fill the hole of the people who are missing. His mum, gone so long, and his dad, still a mystery I don’t fully understand. We both linger in this moment of vulnerability, and then his lips tip up as his eyes wander across my face.

‘Except for recently.’

My eyes flick down to those lips, my body unable to ignore how close we are with both of our heads turned towards each other. I get the urge to hold him, and the irrational impulse to tell him I’ll always be around, even though it would be a false promise. Our time is short and fading fast, and I can’t make the decision on how to spend the little amount we have left. Whether to keep my distance or let myself give in to the pull to be near him.

When my eyes look back up into his, I realise he’s looking somewhere lower. I drag my teeth along my bottom lip, anxiously aware of how he’s staring at it. I’m not sure who shifts first, but the movement brings us so close together, his breath tickles my skin. He lifts his hand up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over the spot my teeth grazed.

‘Lottie,’ he says, almost breathlessly, my name like a prayer on his lips, and I can’t resist any more.

I close the gap until our lips delicately brush, giving us both ample opportunity to end it there. But the hand on my cheek drifts to the back of my neck, and Rory pulls me deeper into a kiss that holds nothing back. His other hand wraps around my waist, and with one tug he rolls and pulls me on top of him, my knees sinking into the mattress on either side of him.

I’m grateful that I decided to stick with only his T-shirt earlier so I can feel the heat of his skin as his hands move to grasp my bare thighs, pulling me down so I’m pressed against his body and the hardness that lies under his boxers. He lets out a groan of pleasure as I rock my hips back and forth, and suddenly the fabric that separates us is too much.

I reach my hands down to cross at the bottom of my shirt, and I force myself to break our kiss for long enough to tug it off over my head. His hands snake upwards from my thighs to caress my bare chest, humming as he maps my every curve.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he says as he takes me in like it’s the first time.

As he continues looking over me, my self-confidence wavers, and I lean back down to steal his focus away with a kiss. But he pushes my body back up so I’m straddling him.

‘Don’t hide, let me appreciate you.’

I swallow my insecurities and try to revel in his attention, which progresses from his gaze to his lips when he sits up, his mouth meeting the tender skin at my collarbone. My eyelids flutter closed as he moves lower, and I try to speak, but all that escapes me is a series of moans as his lips are replaced with his tongue. I throw my head backwards as my body presses further into his touch.