Chapter Twelve
After they’d paid their bill, Mike decided that trying to manage Lee on the subway would be nothing short of a nightmare and ordered a rideshare instead. Twenty minutes later they dropped Lee off to his confused but grateful roommate. As they left Lee’s building and stepped back onto the pavement, Sophie rested a hand on Mike’s arm. ‘I have an idea.’
‘That we should charge that tea place with crimes against humanity?’
Sophie laughed. ‘No. We’re going to go back to my flat. On the way there, we’re going to stop at the store and pick up a few things. Then we’re going to have a proper cup of tea.’
Mike looked at her gratefully. ‘That might be the best thing I’ve heard all day.’
It was only as they stepped over the threshold to her flat that a few salient facts filtered into Mike’s mind, the first of which was that he was going to be in Sophie’s flat. The second of which was that they would be alone. This was followed by a swift and almost overwhelming feeling of panic. It washed over him like a big wave and his mouth went dry.
As Sophie started unloading their purchases, he dropped a text in the family group chat as he tried to wrestle with himself. Having tea with Sophie. Panicking.
He instantly regretted it. He should have kept it to himself. Mike didn’t usually bring his kids into his business like this. Except since he’d met Sophie, he’d been doing it more, hadn’t he? What was it about her? And text . . . text made it easier to find the words. That didn’t necessarily mean he needed to do it, however. He was just pressing the screen with his thumb in the hope of deleting the message, when he realized he was already too late.
Noah: We need more details. Outside? Cosy setting? What?
Mike: At her flat.
Noah: Ooooooh.
Amaya: It’s just tea, Dad. She didn’t exactly invite you to an orgy. It will be fine.
Rahul: I thought we’d banned that word from the chat?
Amaya: We’ve banned sex, nubile, moist and soggy bottoms. We haven’t yet banned orgy.
Mike: We’re banning it now.
Noah: Can I just say your family chats are sooo much more interesting than mine. Unless Nana has been at the sherry again. Three-drink Nana is absolutely wild.
Rahul: Three-drink Nana is my favourite. I love her.
Mike: Can we focus please?
Noah: Sorry. What’s causing the panic? Do you not want to be there? Do you need to leave? Is this a very polite hostage situation?
Amaya: She’s not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, Dad. Do you think she has any expectations?
Mike glanced up at Sophie, who was filling the kettle at the sink. Did he think she had any expectations? He grimaced. After the debacle of the carousel night, no, I don’t think so.
Amaya: Then just enjoy tea with a friend. She’s hardly going to demand that you make out.
Rahul: Make out? What are you, American now?
Amaya: I like learning phrases from other countries. Get cultured, you swine.
Noah: I think Mike’s primary concern is that he wants to make out.
Rahul: Not you, too. I’m taking away your Netflix. You’ve been watching too much American telly.
Noah: Get cultured, you swine.
Amaya: Ha! Noah’s on my side!
‘Everything okay?’ Sophie asked.
‘Yes,’ Mike said. ‘Apologies. Catching up with the kids really quickly.’
‘It’s good you’re so close to them.’ She fetched the tomatoes from the counter and gave them a good rinse.
‘Sometimes I think we’re a little too close,’ Mike muttered. Another text appeared on his screen.
Amaya: Deep breaths, Dad. Relax and enjoy your tea.
Rahul: And if you feel like kissing her, go for it.
Mike couldn’t deny that he did, in fact, want to do just that. Had wanted to since he’d fucked things up so badly the first time. He’d tried to not think about it but kept finding himself going back to the memory. The feel of her. The taste. The soft sound she’d made when he’d— He shook his head sharply, like he was trying to clear it. I don’t think that would be fair to her.
Noah: Sometimes life isn’t fair. People aren’t fair. We make mistakes. Isn’t it possible you made one when you decided to just be friends?
Mike didn’t have an answer to that. He found the idea troubling.
Rahul: My husband is a wise man. You should listen to him.
Unsure what to say to that, Mike tapped a thumbs-up reaction to it and put away his phone. Then he went to wash his hands, throwing Sophie a tight smile. ‘I didn’t mean to leave you to it. Point me towards the knives and I’ll start slicing cheese.’
After a round of cheese and tomato sandwiches and a cup of tea that wasn’t even slightly blue, Mike did the washing-up. To be fair, the dishes were minimal, but he felt it was the least he could do after abandoning Sophie to the lion’s share of the tea prep.
Sophie watched him, her chin resting on her fist. Mike realized with a shock that he liked her watching him.
He peeked back at her. ‘Making sure I don’t miss a bit?’
She shook her head, the movement minimal and slow. ‘Just taking a moment to appreciate a man doing dishes. Or any housework really. You should be commended.’
Mike scoffed. ‘Commended? My kids would refer to it as the lowest of bars.’ He shot her a look. ‘I take it your ex didn’t pitch in around the house?’
‘Not unless it involved a power tool.’
Mike hesitated, unsure whether his next question would be an overstep. ‘What about your son?’
Sophie barked a laugh. ‘Much to Andrew’s disappointment, Tom was never really into power tools and all that. He was more my little buddy around the house, growing up. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t like the young men I met at uni who couldn’t wash their own socks or cook anything more complicated than frozen pizza.’
Mike thought he’d done well enough there – his son could cook better than he could. ‘Were you successful?’
She stared thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment. ‘He met Marisa in a cooking class, so I think whatever I didn’t manage to teach him, he’s picked up on his own.’
Mike rinsed the last dish, slotting it into the rack to dry. ‘You gave him enough to continue on, then.’
‘How about your kids?’
‘Rahul is a chef normally, though he’s home with Archie for a little while yet. Even when he goes back, he’ll cut back on the longer hours because of the kids. I’d love to claim he got his culinary skills from me, but my cooking ability is mediocre at best and Tara’s was better, but she didn’t enjoy doing it often, much to her mother’s chagrin. Especially if she was busy at work. Rahul probably learned out of self-defence.’ He felt a sudden pang of loss, but it was a gentle one, more of a nudge than a dagger. ‘He learned a lot from Tara’s parents.’
Sophie smiled at this, as if charmed. ‘What about your daughter?’
‘Oh, Amaya would be perfectly capable in the kitchen if she had any inclination to be. But she relies on takeaways and frequent meals at her brother’s house.’ He dried his hands, turning around to face Sophie.
She was looking out of the window now, her thoughts clearly a million miles away, and Mike realized that, rather selfishly, he wanted her attention back on him. He really needed to sort himself out. The problem was, he decided, that he was overcomplicating everything. The other problem was that he wanted to stay safe and alone and unhurt, but also couldn’t stop noticing the way Sophie moved. The curve of her mouth when something delighted her. The smell of her skin.
‘Do you need to go back to work?’ Sophie said. ‘Now that you’ve had tea?’
‘I should,’ Mike said. He really should. He’d built a bit of a reputation on getting things done fast. He wasn’t behind on this project yet, but he wasn’t ahead either. It wouldn’t take too much to lose ground. Yet the idea of going back to work left a decidedly sour taste in his mouth. ‘But I don’t want to. Taking care of Lee wore me out.’
‘That poor man.’ Sophie scrunched up her nose which, heaven help him, continued to be the cutest thing he’d seen in years. ‘Do you think he’s okay?’
‘I think he’s better at home than he was at work,’ Mike said. ‘I can’t imagine going in to work like that.’
Sophie stood, stretched, and turned towards her living room. He caught a flash of the skin at the small of her back. He wondered how it felt. Soft – he bet it was soft.
Mike shoved himself off the counter, following her into the living area and sitting across from her on the couch. ‘What about you? How are you doing on the work front?’
Sophie gave a little shrug. ‘I’m fine. A post ahead, actually. The last few got a lot of responses,’ she added, with a quirk of her lips. You’re a popular addition.’
‘Will you post about today?’
She tilted her head to the side. ‘Maybe? Not with names, though. I took a few pictures of the food, but I generally don’t post negative reviews unless there’s a very good reason. Like if something is unsafe.’
‘I would classify that meal as unsafe.’ He shifted on the couch so that he was turned towards her, one arm resting on the back. ‘Whoever created that menu should be forced to eat it.’
‘They must have, to create it in the first place?’ It was her turn to shift in her seat, readjusting herself to get more comfortable. Was she sitting closer now, or was that just Mike’s imagination?
‘There’s nothing to say they have to eat it just because they made it,’ Mike said. ‘It’s not like it’s a legal obligation.’
‘I can’t believe I spat it back out.’ Sophie gave a little laugh and rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a good thing we weren’t on a date. That would have been mortifying. Nothing so sexy as your date coughing back up a bite of mystery meat tart.’
All the other words Sophie said seemed to sink slowly into the conversational ocean, except for the word ‘sexy’. That one bobbed up high like it was its own little boat, and Mike responded without thinking. ‘I don’t think you could do a single thing that I wouldn’t find sexy.’
Sophie’s mouth, which had opened to say something, snapped back shut. Mike felt his pulse shoot up. It had been a stupid thing to say. Reckless. Possibly disastrous, especially in light of their agreement. But honest, no doubt about that.
‘You’re joking, surely?’ Sophie said quietly.
She was throwing him a metaphorical rope – an easy out. Smile, laugh, shrug it off as a joke. Stay safe. No risks at all.
But no rewards, either.
Fuck. It.
‘I’ve never been more honest in my life.’ Mike could almost taste his own pulse now. He could hear the echoing drum in his ears. His skin felt hot, and he wanted . . .
He wanted.
He wasn’t sure who sprang forward first. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was her body in his arms. His mouth sliding over hers, hovering, his tongue delving deeper. She tasted like tea, like lemon, earthy and tart. He growled low in his throat, tugging her forward until she was in his lap.
Sophie squeaked, surprised, but didn’t pull away. He plunged one hand into her hair, angling her head so he could kiss her deeper. With his other hand, he gripped her hip, encouraging her to settle in against him. Her weight felt so good, his palm moving with a will of its own, dipping back to caress the round globes of her arse.
Mike groaned, pulling away from the kiss to trace her jaw, her cheek, with his lips. Brushing his mouth over her brows, then back to her lips. She welcomed him, her hands in his hair. Her cool fingers sliding along the heated skin at the nape of his neck. She whimpered, a soft uncontrolled sound, making Mike feel like a king. A god.
The kiss became a frenzy. A thing of teeth, of tongue, a movement of pure sensation. He dipped down to her throat, licking the skin there, listening to her sharp, panting breaths.
She clutched him to her, rolling her hips.
Now it was Mike’s turn to whimper, the movement feeling so unbelievably good. His hand slid up the back of her shirt, his fingers playing along that skin he’d caught sight of earlier. He’d been right – it was soft. Hot and silky. He wanted nothing more in life than to press his teeth to that spot – not enough to leave a mark, just enough to make her arch her back.
She was yanking his shirt out of his waistband, her own fingers searching for skin.
Her touch was a relief. A cooling rain on a hot night. Something both visceral and necessary. It felt vital .
He brushed his knuckles over her breasts, wondering the whole time what her nipples might look like. Small? Large? A blushing pink, rich red or deep brown? Somewhere in between? He was hard, so hard, and she was rubbing over him, there but not quite right. He needed it a little harder, needed her a little more centred.
He palmed her breasts, enjoying the weight of them, the feel through the layers of cloth. Then he slid his hands further down, his knuckles tracing her belly, while his fingers dipped below her waistband.
Her head dropped back, a breathy moan escaping her lips. She looked so beautiful like this – her cheeks flushed pink, her lips slightly parted. Her eyes were screwed shut in fierce concentration. Seeing her like this . . . Mike wanted nothing more than to see her release. To see her in that moment of bliss when nothing on the earth or in the heavens mattered beyond the pleasure sizzling through your veins.
‘Sophie,’ he breathed into her neck, nibbling along the skin. He slid a hand around, stroking a path from her back to her thigh. He wanted to touch her like this so much, so often, that the sensations, the muscle memory, burned into his brain. He wanted the feel of her tattooed along his skin, etched into his bones.
‘Oh, god, Sophie.’ His mouth was close to her ear now, the puff of his breath making her shiver. ‘Let me make you feel good. Please. Let me do this.’
She made a soft sound, rolling her hips again and again.
He undid the button of her trousers and pulled down the zip. ‘Is this okay? Tell me if you want me to stop, if you don’t want it.’
She tugged on the hair on the nape of his neck, his name a whisper on her lips.
He could feel his pulse beating through his own body, every particle of him focused on her. He leaned back, his chest heaving, watching his own fingers, moving slowly in case she changed her mind. In case she’d decided this was far enough.
He caught a glimpse of purple, silky material and his mouth went dry. His voice, when he could finally get it out, was raspy and deep. His knuckles hovered over the purple cloth. ‘I need to hear you say it, Sophie. Can I touch you?’
She hovered there, eyes hazy. Desire limned every curve of her body, every swoop and angle of her face, but she hesitated all the same.
Mike didn’t move, didn’t want to convince her with his body, which meant he had to find words, and he was historically bad at those. ‘Whatever you want, Sophie.’
She caught her lower lip in her teeth, not quite looking at him.
He tipped her chin up with a gentle nudge of his fingers. ‘I mean it. Whatever you want.’
Her gaze was steady as she examined him carefully. ‘If I say we’re done?’
‘Then we’re done.’ He didn’t even have to think about his answer. He was a little worried that she thought he might have another answer.
Her next question was more hesitant, unsure. Mike marvelled at it – so unlike the side she usually showed the world, brave and self-assured. ‘If I only want to be held?’
‘Then I’m a lucky man.’ Mike couldn’t help it then and rubbed a hand down her back, reassuring.
Sophie snorted a laugh, but he didn’t think it was at him, more at some other situation or man in the past. ‘And what do you want?’
‘Oh,’ he said with an offhand shrug. ‘Indecent things. My mind is an absolute cesspit of sordid imaginings right now, that’s just how it is.’ He stroked her back again, just because he could.
She brushed back his hair with one hand, her fingers tracing his ear, his neck, causing him to shiver. ‘You’re a confusing man, Mike Tremblay.’
‘I know.’ That was the worst of it, really. He did .
Her expression was serious, but she was definitely laughing at him now somewhere inside herself, though not in a mean way. ‘I’m going to kiss you anyway.’
‘Oh, thank god.’
She leaned in but he met her halfway, folding her deeper into his arms, letting her guide the kiss. Things had cooled between them as they’d talked, but it was like a frost instantly melted by the touch of the sun, soon gone. Sophie took one of his hands, placing it back where it had been, and he could feel her smile as they kissed.
He traced her through the fabric, whisper-soft, not knowing what kind of contact she needed. He couldn’t wait to find out. Mike had always been a good student, and he wanted nothing more than to learn what made this woman light up. Sophie shuddered, gasping and leaning in to his touch.
Mike swallowed, his throat feeling thick, his chest heavy. Any part of him not touching her felt too far away, the thin layers of cloth between them taking on the dimensions of chainmail.
A breathy moan escaped her lips as her head dropped forward, her hair hiding her face. Mike let her hide for now, concentrating on how she was moving; applying more pressure, moving in a way to match the thrust of her hips. He realized then that he was talking to her, all of his restraint being used up in order to keep himself in check, to stay where she needed him. Words normally kept behind clenched teeth were bubbling up, flowing towards her like it was the most natural thing in the world. An ancient spring, cutting through well-worn rock pathways as it sought the ocean.
Except his spring was apparently filthy , but Sophie didn’t seem to mind, shivering under his hands as he spoke. ‘So beautiful, so, so, oh god, yes – again. Fuck, Sophie, you’re perfect. Let me look at you. I love watching you move. I love feeling you get wet. Is that for me, Sophie? All for me?’ It was a litany of praise and suggestion and he couldn’t stem it if he tried.
Sophie moaned and rocked harder, the material under his fingers soaked through. He sucked gently on the skin of her neck and nipped her ear. She kept her eyes closed, off in her own little world of pleasure.
Maybe he was selfish, but he didn’t want that. He wanted her here, with him. For a brief, heady span of time, he wanted her thinking of no one but him. He wanted her to realize, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she felt good because he made her feel that way.
He took his finger off the sweet spot, tracing around the material. With his other hand, he reached up and touched her chin, tipping it up until she had no choice but to look at him. Her mouth curved into a pout, her cheeks flushed, her pupils wide. Sophie Swann looked wrecked. Pride flared in his chest as he stole another kiss from that pouting mouth. ‘You think you can come like this?’
‘Not if you’re not.’ She huffed and he loved how petulant she sounded. Like he owed her something and she was completely put out that he wasn’t delivering.
He traced the tips of his fingers feather light over her most responsive spots. She shuddered, a desperate whine trapped in her throat.
‘I know, I’m being terrible darling, aren’t I? You’re right there. I can feel it.’ He leaned in and licked her lower lip, sucking it between his teeth. He let it go slowly. ‘So mean. You don’t deserve such treatment.’ Another feather-light caress, dipping away when she chased the movement with her hips. ‘Look at me, darling. Look at me, and I’ll let you. I want to see you come apart.’
She breathed deeply, her arms tightening around his neck, and looked him square in the eyes. She was so turned on, her pupils so wide, he could barely see the colour of her irises.
‘There you are,’ he said, moving his thumb slowly around where she needed it, just a few tight circles. Then he drew it back and tapped her clit hard with his thumb.
Then Sophie Swann came apart in his arms, her eyes glazed with pleasure, and his name on her lips.