Page 137 of The Stranger

“It fell down the front of my dress. Got caught in the waist.” This isn’t funny, Luc.”

“You called me Luc.”

“That is your name.”

“I’m glad you know it. It usually seems like you have other titles, ones you won’t let spill past your lips.”

“Fanciful thinking. And stop laughing.” I splash water at him, and he rocks back, and begins to properly laugh.

“It’s so not funny.”

“This is relief. I thought you were hurt, seriously.”

“I nearly died!”

“From a gecko.”

“It had feet, and they were running all over me.”

“Lucky gecko.” He drops his head as though he’s sorry he said that. “Come on.” He holds his hand out again. “You can’t stay in there all night.”

“I can stay here until you leave.”

“There is nothing I haven’t already seen,” he reasons.

“Like that means anything,” I say, ignoring how my fingers are turning pruney.

“If I leave, they,” he says, pointing over his shoulder, “still catch everything.”

“Oh, balls,” I groan. The security cameras. “Can you turn them off?” My voice sounds small. “I better not get loaded to the internet.”

“And you know, the security team will be doing their rounds later. With their dogs.” He watches my shoulders slump. “Let me get you a towel.”

“You should’ve said that in the first place,” I mutter, then stare at his unfairly sculptured bum as he crosses to the towel warmer. He jerks his head in the direction of the steps at the far end before shaking out the fluffy cotton and holding it wide.

I breaststroke (literally) to the shallow end.

“Higher. And no peaking,” I call out. He lifts the top edge above his eyeline. “And, again, this better not find its way onto the internet.”

“I’ll delete it myself.”

“You can’t watch it, either.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes.” I say as the water sloshes around my claves, then my ankles. I keep my arms wrapped around my boobs. Yes. It’s such a small word but with potentially a dangerous meaning. The steps are long but not deep, but there are enough of them that I have time to think. When I reach the last step, I fold my fingers over the edge of the towel, pulling it from his hold as I simultaneously wrap it around myself.

“Thanks,” I say, not quite able to hold his gaze for the moment.

“No problem,” he says simply. When I chance look up, I find him looking at me expectantly. “What else?” he asks.

“So I was thinking that, while you’re deleting the curious incident of a gecko in the night, you can also delete this.” My heart hammers as I tip onto my toes and curl my hand against the nape of his neck. He’s much taller than me, and I’m standing still on a lower step, but it doesn’t seem to matter one bit as his surprise gives way almost immediately and his arms fold around my waist.

Our lips meet and he allows me to lead in a kiss that’s soft and coaxing, a lazy exchange of lips and wine-scented tongues. A kiss that turns the blood in my veins to champagne bubbles.

“You don’t seem so surprised,” I say, pulling back a little. We’re still so close, I can’t see his expression properly.

“Kiss me again,” he demands, tightening his hold. “I’m worried I might be dreaming.”