Chapter 24 Saoirse Saturday 18 December
Iwake up to a delighted Bea standing over me, poking me in the shoulder.
‘Saoirse! It’s morning time!’ Her sweet voice is a sing-song.
‘Hi, pet.’ I roll over sleepily. My body’s heavy with sleep, and I’m sore between my legs in an extremely good way.
Oh, God.
Miles. Last night he kissed me, and licked me, and came inside me, and made me come—twice—and curled up behind me—oh, Jesus.
He’s not still in bed with me, is he? I look around.
No. Relief and disappointment in equal measure.
I could really have done with waking up with his hard, warm body wrapped around me.
‘What time is it?’
Bea gives me a duh face. She’s once again managed an admirable level of bed-head overnight. ‘It’s morning time. My clock comed on.’
Ah. My room’s still dark, but Bea has a Gro Clock whose display lights up yellow at an appointed time. I glance at my phone on the bedside table. It’s seven-thirty.
‘Okay, sweetheart. Let’s go get you some brekkie. I’ll come through in a minute—I just have to brush my teeth, yeah?’
I freshen up and brush my hair out (it seems as though I achieved a Bea level of bed head myself last night) and put a plush white robe on over my camisole and pyjama bottoms. Miles helped me get my PJs on after the second time we had sex and stayed curled up behind me.
I don’t even remember him going back to his own room.
I trudge through to the kitchen area to stick the kettle on and make Bea some toast. There are some basics up here, but anything fancier than tea and toast calls for room service.
‘Right, pet.’ I put on CBeebies and settle Bea on the sofa, tucking her blanket around her and putting a huge napkin on top.
It’s Saturday, and it feels like a breakfast-on-the-couch kind of day.
I connect my phone to the speaker in the kitchen and crank up the Glee Christmas playlist. It kicks into life with We Need a Little Christmas.
Deadly. The perky harmonies suit my mood perfectly. I am one happy girl this morning.
I butter some toast and cut it into tiny squares, sticking them in a bowl. Far less potential for the whole load to slip off onto the blanket that way. ‘Here you go, my love.’
I kiss Bea’s forehead and I’m back in the kitchen, coaxing my Barry’s tea bag around my mug with a spoon, when I hear Miles’ voice.
‘Hi, Beadle. Did you sleep well? You ticklish this morning? Eh?’
Cue rapturous shrieks from Bea.
I freeze.
The morning after is always excruciating, but it turns out it’s a million times worse when you’ve slept with your boss, and you’re in his penthouse, for crying out loud, and his little girl is there, and you can’t help but be paranoid that for all his sweet, dirty talk and apparent enthusiasm, you were a one-night thing.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus.
He’s topless.
He saunters into the kitchen, rubbing the hair on his chest absently. He’s in those grey flannel pyjama bottoms again, and they are low on those hips of his. My eyes duck to the sharp jut of his hipbones.
His face lights up as soon as he sees me. I’ve never, ever seen him this happy in the morning. Half naked and smiling is definitely the polar opposite of how he is every other morning, when he’s grumpy and (literally) buttoned up.
‘There she is. Morning, gorgeous.’
‘Morning.’ I’m still frozen. I abandon the mug of tea and stare as he comes closer. He’s heaven, and I’m shameless.
‘How’d you sleep?’ He cages me in against the counter with his arms and brushes my lips with his.
‘Good, I think,’ I say dreamily. I’m still staring. My hand goes to his chest. My fingers drift through the fine hairs there. This beautiful, lean man is too much.
‘Good, you think? God, you’re adorable first thing in the morning. My cock was very, very sorry not to wake up with you.’
Argh. He woke up hard, and I wasn’t there for it. It’s a dagger to my heart.
Or my lady parts.
‘I don’t even remember you leaving last night,’ I tell him.
‘You fell asleep in my arms. I really, really wanted to stay.’
He lets go of the counter and grins at me while he slowly, slowly unties my robe. It drops open, and his hands go to my hips, sliding his fingers under the hem of my camisole as he steps right up to me.
‘Told you I’ll be stiff this morning.’
Oh, wow.
He really, really is.
‘Miles! What about Bea?’ I try to act shocked, but my body has other ideas as I drive my hips forward against his.
‘She’s watching some drivel. She’s on a different planet. You’re heaven.’
He definitely says that to my boobs, not my face.
And he bends his head and kisses me. One arm winds around my back, inside my robe, holding me to him. The other hand strokes my bum in a leisurely fashion. I put my hands on his shoulders and skim them down his arms. Gorgeous man. Silky skin covering delicious muscles.
The scent of sleep coming off his skin may just be the best thing I’ve ever smelt.
His lips are soft and his tongue is supple.
Persuasive. And as he weaves the taste of his toothpaste through my mouth, it seems fair to assume I don’t have to worry about him being over his interest in me this morning.
My tongue moves more desperately in his mouth. He groans and pulls away.
‘You. Are a huge handful.’
‘And you’re a huge mouthful.’ I smile, thrilled with my exceptional wit.
He reacts as if I’ve given him an electric shock. ‘Fuck, Saoirse.’ He grabs my face and pulls my mouth towards his. He’s hungry and unleashed. His body presses me into the counter before he takes a deep, ragged breath. ‘Right. Cold shower for me, I think.’
He kisses me once more, slowly, before regretfully pulling away and leaving me to my stewed tea.