Chapter 33
Aria lifted a bunch of clothes out of her wardrobe and chucked them on the bed.
No point in trying to cover her modesty now.
What was the point of getting dressed at all?
How was she going to explain coming out of his bathroom covered by two napkins, for God’s sake, and showing him, well…
pretty much everything? She kicked the towels into the corner and checked there wasn’t a text on her phone telling her to stay in her bedroom and avoid embarrassing herself until further notice.
Picking out a short floral sundress and white pumps, she begrudgingly put them on.
Noticing her bra spoiled the ruching, she cursed at being gifted a chest that needed titanium underwear.
Where had that gene come from? Her mother wasn’t particularly buxom, even before the cancer took her.
Aria put on a strapless bra and pushed the edges of the top down over her shoulders.
Gah, now she looked like a folk singer. Tiger scratched at the door, and she let him in, leaving it ajar as she bent down to make a fuss of him.
Glancing up, she saw Nic, carrying a makeshift tray with two wine bottles on it, his arms and legs bare, and his torso covered by her apron displaying a map of Skiddaw.
What the hell? She couldn’t help but let out a laugh.
‘So, I thought we could decant the plonk into the expensive bottle. But I can’t do that without help,’ he said, nodding to the tray. His voice was normal, and his face deadpan, but his state of dress left her so flustered she didn’t know where to look.
‘I’m sorry…’
‘Ah, you don’t need to apologise again. It’s only wine and I think, if we serve her the cheap stuff in the vintage bottles, it’ll be a good wheeze.
’ Nic hit his forehead with his hand. ‘Oh, I forgot to bring a funnel! Can you hold these while I go and get one?’ He gave her the tray and spun around.
She let out a small cry as he flashed his bare bottom at her.
Rounded in all the right places, muscled in others, his buttocks were the star of the show.
Her heartbeat quickened at his physique while the swagger in his step told her his behaviour wasn’t down to a mix-up with the towels.
She watched him till he rounded the corner, adrenaline pushing through her as she waited for his return.
A few moments later, he arrived back with an opaque funnel.
His wide grin invited a reaction, but she was lost for words.
A thought flashed through her head that he was being kind and equalling things between them, but she wasn’t sure how to respond.
Should she thank him? Feign outrage and send him back to the bedroom to get dressed before Donna arrived?
Or go with the flow and flirt back? She was supposed to be his fiancée, and she wasn’t feeling all that offended by his body.
She was sure the contours on the apron weren’t all Skiddaw – he was as excited by this encounter as she was.
Plus, she’d accidentally shown him her undercarriage so was it tit-for-tat?
‘Don’t say tit,’ she muttered to herself, looking down to check hers were covered.
‘I don’t believe I did,’ he growled, his eyes also dropping to her chest.
She was considering grabbing one of the bottles and glugging, when he asked if she wanted to hold it. ‘Hold what?’ Her strangulated voice signalled her confusion as she struggled to keep up with this rapidly unfolding farce.
‘The funnel! What did you think I meant?’ he winked.
She took it with a shaking hand and tried to keep it steady while he poured.
Then he thanked her for her diligence and said he’d set it down somewhere to breathe.
She wished he’d set himself down somewhere else and give her libido a chance to cool.
When he obliged by disappearing down the hall, she was rewarded by another eyeful of butt, causing the fire in her groin to grow volcanic.
She retreated back to her room and found Tiger at her doorway, standing by to protect what was left of her dignity.
Pushing the clothes off her bed, she climbed under the light duvet.
The cotton sheets were so pristine they felt like they’d been ironed onto the mattress.
She breathed in their freshness but couldn’t quite relax.
There was a tension within her that needed to be released.
She lay staring at the ceiling – the image of Nic’s face as he took in her exposed body etched into her mind – while her hands seemed to move of their own volition.
Pushing aside the lace between her legs, she reached to touch herself.
Pleasure built as she mentally re-ran the incident, concentrating on his honed legs and rising topography, as well as the shape of his ass as he turned around.
Was she imagining things, or did she hear an echo further down the corridor?
When relief came, she sank into the sheets and closed her eyes.