The Suitcase Swap

Chapter Nineteen

Mike prepped for his date like some men planned for the apocalypse. He’d gone into work early and skipped lunch so he could leave with enough time to prepare. He bought the ingredients for dinner, three different kinds of wine, and a few things for a cheese plate. He cleaned his flat, going so far as to get some flowers for the table. Then he showered, shaved and put on cologne. He was standing there in his boxer briefs, his bottom lip between his teeth, when the nerves really hit.

He had no idea what to wear. Go casual with jeans and T-shirt? No, that didn’t seem right. He hated polo shirts, so those were out. A suit? A suit was probably too much. He ran his hands over his face and groaned. These were decisions he usually didn’t fuss much over. He put the effort in, of course, but Sophie . . . he wanted to be more for Sophie.

He checked the time. Six. Making it eleven in London. Mike grabbed his phone and typed furiously into the group chat, thankful that his family tended to be night owls.

Mike: Help. SOS. Or maybe SOD?

Rahul: What on earth is an SOD?

Amaya: You should know, brother, you are one.

Rahul: Oh, ha ha. You missed your calling, sister. Should’ve gone into stand-up.

Noah: Play nice, children. Did you miss the part that said, ‘Help’?

Mike: Save Our Date. I was trying to be clever.

Rahul: Well, that was your first mistake.

Amaya: Shut up, Rahul – DAD HAS A DATE. Is it Sophie? Please let it be Sophie.

Mike: Who else would it be?

Amaya: I don’t know, some local skank. Who knows what he’s getting up to over there unattended.

Rahul: And you call yourself a feminist.

Noah: We only support home grown, organic skanks.

Amaya: Feminism is here for the skanks, too. I love skanks. Though I’m not sure I meant to imply that Sophie was one.

Mike: I’m once again regretting summoning the group chat for help.

Amaya: Sorry, Dad! What’s going on? How can Barney and I support you in your hour of need?

Rahul: Getting a little concerned about you and that plant.

Noah: Focus.

Rahul: Ficus?

Noah: I want a divorce.

Amaya: Dad, are you pinching the bridge of your nose right now and counting to ten? I bet you are.

Mike was, in fact, doing exactly that and wondering why he’d thought his children would be helpful.

Noah: Sorry, Mike. How can we help?

Mike: I don’t know what to wear.

Noah: So you summoned the gays. Smart move. Or it would be if your son could dress himself.

Rahul: I still don’t understand why you hated that shirt, but I got rid of it!

Amaya: I want pictures, Noah.

Noah: Done.

Amaya: You remain my favourite brother-in-law. Dad, do you have options?

Mike took photos of the three outfits he had and sent them. Instead of a reply, he got a link to a group video chat, which he regretted clicking on before he’d even touched his thumb to the screen. Rahul and Noah were cuddled together on the couch, Noah with a stemless glass of wine in his hand, Rahul with a beer. Amaya joined a second later from Mike’s flat, sitting in his easy chair, her arm around Barney the plant.

After greetings were exchanged, Mike checked his watch. ‘I have fifty minutes until she gets here, and I need at least ten of those to finish cooking.’

‘Right,’ Noah said, straightening up. ‘The suit is out. Too formal for a dinner at home. You also want to consider your layers – you don’t want too many to take off.’

Rahul turned to his husband, an amused expression on his face. ‘I’m trying really hard to not think about my father’s sex life and you’re not helping.’

Amaya’s lips were pursed, her gaze on the ceiling. ‘What about that thin grey jumper Noah got you for Christmas?’

Mike shook his head. ‘Didn’t bring it.’

Noah tapped his fingers along his knee. ‘Okay. Turn the camera and show me your wardrobe?’

Mike did as he was bid, thumbing through the options.

‘Wait,’ Noah said. ‘Go back. The dark purple one.’

‘Really?’ Mike asked, though he was already grabbing the hanger. ‘I usually wear it with a suit, which tones the purple down a bit. You don’t think it’s too flashy?’

Rahul rolled his eyes. ‘You want to be a little bit flashy, yeah?’

Noah smiled. ‘There’s a reason male birds are usually so brightly coloured. You’ve got to shake your tail feathers. Besides, that colour will bring out your eyes.’

Mike set up his camera on the dresser as he shrugged into the shirt. ‘If you say so. What should I pair it with?’

‘Jeans,’ Amaya said. ‘The dark pair. Roll up the sleeves of the shirt, but don’t tuck it in. And Dad? No socks.’

He frowned at her. ‘Really?’

She nodded slowly. ‘Really, Dad. You want to look clean and like you made an effort, but also like you’re slightly undone and halfway to the bedroom. Also, no one – and I mean no one – looks sexy while they’re hopping around removing their socks.’

Mike’s fingers slowed as he did up his shirt. ‘I really don’t want to know what you’re basing this opinion on.’

Amaya rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t be a prude, Dad.’

Mike put on the jeans, finishing up the outfit with his watch.

‘We need a fit check, Dad,’ Amaya said. ‘Walk back so we can see the outfit and turn and walk towards us. Like you’re on a runway.’

Mike, feeling faintly silly, did as she asked. He held out his arms. ‘What do we think?’

Noah huffed. ‘I wish I was there to help. Run your fingers through your hair a bit. It’s lying too flat. A little more. Okay, there. Perfect.’

Rahul leaned over and kissed Noah’s temple. ‘And that’s why I married you.’

Noah grinned, blushing. ‘Because I know how to dress a man?’

Rahul snorted. ‘I’m sure that helped, but I meant because you give a shit.’ His voice softened. ‘You’re a good man, Noah Tremblay.’

Noah leaned into him. ‘Thanks.’

Amaya sighed. ‘This is why I’m single. You two have set a high standard.’ She lifted Barney onto her lap. ‘In the meantime, it’s just me and Barney, but we both think you look great, Dad.’

‘Okay,’ Mike said, running his hands down his shirt. ‘Okay.’

‘And Dad?’ Amaya said.

‘Yeah?’

Her smile was tight-lipped, but genuine. ‘You’ve got this.’

‘Thanks,’ Mike said. ‘All of you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Rahul said. ‘Now we’re signing off so we can continue to enjoy this short span of time where a child isn’t yelling at one of us, but we’re here for emergencies.’

‘Yes,’ Noah said. ‘We love you!’

Their screen disappeared, leaving only Amaya and the plant. ‘Have a good time, Dad. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

‘What, exactly, would be on that list? Wait, I’m sorry I asked that.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you, so I guess you’ll just have to wing it.’ For some reason, that made Amaya cackle. ‘Love you, Dad!’ Then her screen also vanished.

Leaving Mike alone with a dinner to finish preparing and palms that were sweaty from nerves.

‘Right,’ he told himself, wiping his palms on his thighs. ‘Better get on with it.’

By the time Sophie knocked on his door at five past seven, Mike was ready to crawl out of his own skin. He pulled the chicken out of the oven to let it rest before discarding his oven gloves and striding towards the hallway, his pulse erratic.

Then he opened the door.

Sophie was . . .

. . . was . . .

. . . a sadist, clearly.

Mike’s throat went dry as he looked at her.

The green dress she was wearing hugged her body like it never wanted to let go, which might have been him projecting a bit. He followed the line of it down to where it draped around her legs. When the dress stopped, his gaze kept going, tracing her calves, her ankles, and the gold strappy sandals on her feet. She looked edible . His body was somehow hot and cold at the same time, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He was gripping the doorknob so hard, he was pretty sure his hand had fused with the metal.

Mike knew he was staring. Knew he should probably stop, but he couldn’t seem to get his body to work. Sophie wasn’t moving either. She was cradling a bottle of wine, her eyes wide, her lips parted. She wasn’t making eye contact but seemed to be staring at a point just below his chin.

He had no idea how long they would have stood there gaping at each other – hours, months, ice ages – if one of the other people on his floor hadn’t walked past while talking loudly on his phone. They blinked at each other, the spell broken.

Sophie held out the bottle of wine. ‘For you.’

Mike took it with his free hand, shaking out the other as soon as he’d prised it off the doorknob. He ushered her in, certain his cheeks were flushed.

They paused in the hallway as Mike shut the door, both of them temporarily stuck in the awkwardness of the moment. Then they both lurched forward, Mike going in for a hug, Sophie going in for a kiss on the cheek.

Somehow Sophie ended up kissing Mike’s ear and he ended up with his hands on her hips. Mike chuckled softly as he set the bottle of wine down on a side table. ‘Let’s try that again.’ He leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek. ‘You look stunning.’

Her breath hitched. ‘Thank you.’ She didn’t step back.

Neither did Mike. His face hovered next to hers as he breathed her in, their skin so close he could feel the heat of her. She smelled like peaches again, like something that would melt in your mouth.

She laid her palm on his chest, sliding her hand up over his collarbone and onto his shoulder. ‘This looks good on you.’

‘Thank you.’ His voice was raspy to his own ears, hoarsened by an overwhelming tide of lust. One of his thumbs was tracing small circles on her hip while the other hand slid around to the small of her back. The air between them was so thick, he was pretty sure it could no longer be categorized as a gas but a solid.

She licked her lower lip and he tracked the movement like his life depended on it. ‘Mike?’

‘Hm?’

‘You should kiss me now.’

‘Oh, thank fuck.’ He pulled her to him as she lunged forward, causing them to not so much kiss as crash into each other, not that either of them noticed. Mike was too busy tasting her mouth, enjoying the exquisite feel of her tongue against his. She was clasping his back with one hand, the other in his hair, gripping the strands tight. He groaned into her mouth.

She nipped his lip, kissed along his jaw, pressing wet, biting kisses down his neck. Mike sucked in a breath, cradling her to him, not knowing how much of this he could take, while also hoping she wouldn’t stop.

He slid his palm down her hip, her thigh, pulling her knee up to his waist, opening her up for him. He wasn’t sure when he’d pinned her to the wall, but he used the surface now for leverage.

Sophie arched against him, pushing herself against the seam of his jeans. He used the hand at her knee to trace down her thigh, fingers dipping down until he could feel the satin of her underwear. He traced around the edge there, his touch a teasing whisper. Now that he had her there, in his arms, panting his name, he wanted to take his time. He wanted her wet and needy. He wanted to spoil her with attention, lavish her with touch, with pleasure. Basically, he wanted her as undone as he was.

He kissed a line down her throat and licked the part of her collarbone that was exposed by the dress. His fingers brushed across her left breast, satisfaction welling inside him when he felt the hard peak of her nipple through the soft fabric. He cupped her gently before drifting further down to the hem of her dress, pulling it up and out of the way until he could see a hint of the fabric hugging her hip, following it along her rounded belly, down to the part pressing against him that was dampening more and more by the second.

Green.

She was wearing the green knickers he’d first spied in her suitcase, and he was pretty sure he whimpered. He brushed a thumb right against the wet cloth and Sophie gasped. Her lips were red from his kisses, her skin flushed, her eyes sparkling – she was so beautiful like this. He wanted to see more of it, more of her. He wanted to be greedy and gorge himself on her.

Sophie started undoing the buttons on his shirt, her fingers trembling, and that hit him hard, too. Knowing that he wasn’t the only one bowled over by their sheer bloody chemistry.

He took over for her, undoing the buttons slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. ‘Is this what you want?’

‘Yes,’ she breathed.

‘Then it’s yours.’

She glided curious fingers over his collar, his chest, his belly button. The soft exploration continued over his ribs, ticklishly, making him squirm.

‘What do you want?’ she asked.

He plucked at the ties of her dress. ‘Can I?’

She nodded and he was undoing the bow, hands pushing back the fabric. Now it was his turn to explore, fingertips brushing over the stretch marks on her hips, the swell of her belly, up to the edges of her bra. ‘Beautiful, so beautiful.’

He kissed her again, long and slow, not dissipating the heat between them, but stoking it higher despite his slower pace. When he pulled back, he kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, while his fingers traced along the silken edges of her knickers. He put his mouth next to her ear, his breath making her shiver, and he smiled.

‘I’m going to take these off,’ he said. ‘Then I’m going to get on my knees and taste you. Is that okay, Sophie?’

She let out an unsteady breath.

He clucked his tongue. ‘That won’t do, I’m afraid. I’m going to need a yes or a no here.’

‘Yes.’ The word came out fervently, if still unsteady.

He kissed her mouth, hands sliding over her backside and tickling the backs of her thighs. ‘That’s what I needed to hear.’

She gazed up at him, her expression glazed with want. Mike was certain he could get drunk from that look.

‘If you want me to stop, if you don’t like anything I do, you tell me, and I stop. Understand?’

Sophie nodded, swallowing hard.

Then Mike slowly, reverently, lowered himself to his knees. He might regret it later – there was only a thin rug here over the hardwood – but right now, he didn’t care. All of his attention was on his hands as he slid that last remaining scrap of cloth down her hips, past her knees, and to the floor. He touched one foot. ‘Up.’

She stepped out of them as he’d asked, smiling as he tossed them over his shoulder.

He peered up at her, naked now except for her bra. Mike wanted to store away the sight of her, keeping her like this in his memory forever. Then he dragged his fingers up her calf, lingering for a moment at the back of her knee, before pulling it over his shoulder. He watched her for a second, making sure the wall was holding her up. Her breath was coming in short bursts as she stared down at him, her eyes wide.

He turned his head and kissed her knee. ‘You leave this here if you can, okay?’

She nodded.

He traced his fingers teasingly right around the areas where she really wanted his touch. After a few passes, he dipped in closer, just enough to get his fingers wet, then brushed them up and around her clit, only to start the whole process over again.

Sophie was glaring down at him, her palms pressed flat against the wall. She looked deliciously frustrated. ‘ Mike! ’

‘Hm?’

‘Please get on with it!’

He laughed against her skin, making her shiver. ‘So impatient.’ He leaned in, spread her with his fingers, and licked.

Sophie moaned so loudly that she clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

Mike laughed into her skin. ‘Is that what you wanted?’

She nodded, her hand still clamped over her mouth.

‘Well, far be it from me to deny you.’ His voice sounded smug, but there was the faintest quiver to it, hinting at his own struggle. As much as he’d been teasing Sophie, he’d also been teasing himself. Desire was a blade that cut both ways, and he’d sliced himself up good and proper this time. It was a relief to take himself off the leash, to finally, fully, put his mouth on her.

She tasted like salt and musk, the flavour exploding across his tongue, lighting up the pleasure centres of his brain. He felt like one of those old pinball machines when all the lights flashed at once. While he licked, he slid one finger inside her, stroking until he found the spot that made her smack her palms against the wall and gasp.

He added another finger, stroking her, feeling her body arch, her muscles tighten. She was already on edge, but he wasn’t ready. Not quite yet.

He stopped moving his fingers, but kept them in that sweet spot while he nipped kisses along her belly, her hips.

She growled in frustration, her hand digging into his hair and pulling.

He pressed his forehead against her stomach and let out a breath. ‘Fuck, I love it when you’re demanding. You want me to let you come? Is that it?’

She made another frustrated sound. Sophie wasn’t much of a talker and though her cheeks were flushed, he couldn’t tell if she was too turned on to talk, or if she was shy. There was a bit of irony here, that she was usually so good with words, and he wasn’t, their roles reversing in the bedroom. Something to think about later. For now, he’d let her off the hook.

Sort of.

He clucked his tongue. ‘Now that won’t do at all.’ He flexed his hand, and she sucked in a breath. ‘Is that what you want, Sophie?’

She nodded, her lips parting as she panted, her body taut.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll let you, but on one condition. I need you to look at me. Eyes on me, gorgeous.’

Sophie blinked down at him, her eyes so wide, the pupils blown. Her chest was heaving. She looked absolutely wrecked. Mike didn’t think he’d ever been so turned on in his life. He began moving his fingers with slow, even pumps.

Her eyes started to drift closed, and he stopped.

Sophie growled again and he laughed.

‘Cruel of me, I know, but I will give you what you want. You just look at me, Sophie, and I’ll give you everything.’

Sophie stared down at him, her fingers curling against the wall.

Mike leaned in, not breaking eye contact, not even to blink. He started moving his fingers again. Then, while Sophie watched, wide-eyed, he traced his tongue up along the seam, before sucking her clit into his mouth.

She shattered, her mouth open on a silent scream, her body arched. Mike stared up at her in wonder. Sophie aroused was a hell of a sight. Sophie having a bone-melting orgasm was a vision.

He wanted it seared into his brain forever. Heat licked up his own spine and he had to shove his hand into his jeans and squeeze, trying to stave off his own orgasm. He hadn’t messed his jeans since he was a teenager, and he wouldn’t have felt shame over it now, not after watching that, but he wanted to wait. He wanted to focus on her right now, see how long he could draw the orgasm out.

Mike eased her through the aftershocks, waiting until her body relaxed before he reluctantly withdrew his hand. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slowing, as she rested limply against the wall. Mike drew her leg down so that her feet were both flat on the floor again. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his cheek against her belly. He closed his eyes and breathed in the salt of her, the scent mixing with the smell of peaches and sweetness he now associated with her.

He was going to be hopelessly turned on by peach Soleros for the rest of his life.

Sophie put a hand on his head, gently stroking his hair. After a few moments, she let out an unsteady breath. ‘Well. I guess it was one of those kinds of dinners.’

Mike burst out laughing, his sides shaking as he held her. He was laughing so hard he was wheezing, and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

Then he looked up at her. ‘You were really beautiful in that dress.’

‘You were handsome in that shirt.’ She waved at the shirt, which he’d thrown behind him at some point and was now hanging off a decorative plant.

‘You’re fucking stunning now,’ he said, planting a kiss on her stomach.

‘Are you stalling because you’re not sure you can get up off your knees?’

‘Yes,’ Mike said. ‘You might have to help me up. The floor is suddenly killing me.’

Sophie reached down and grabbed his hands, pulling him up to a standing position. As soon as he was upright, she kissed him long and slow.

When he pulled back, he glanced at the kitchen. ‘I really did make you dinner, you know. There’s a whole chicken in there. Roast potatoes. A salad.’

Sophie hummed. ‘Can we reheat it later?’

‘Of course. Maybe. Possibly.’ He kissed her again. ‘There’s a good chance it will be entirely ruined.’

Sophie tilted her head to the side. ‘Do you care?’

‘Not even a little bit. That chicken is on its own now. I can always get a takeaway.’

She sighed happily and tightened her arms around his neck. ‘Then I think I’d rather you take me to bed.’

He grinned. ‘Dessert first. I like it.’ He nuzzled along her jaw.

‘Mike?’

‘Yes?’

‘I meant now.’

‘Thank fucking hell, I’m dying here.’ Then he lifted her off her toes, spun her around and herded her in the direction of the bedroom.