Chapter 11
Eleven
Grease covers my chin as I bite into the meat-filled pita bread.
I’m drunk. Not Hannah drunk, but drunk enough to want to devour every single last bite of this kebab.
I’m so angry with myself for never experiencing such joy before.
I’m actually lost in the moment with my kebab when I realise I am in company and I have been eating like a pig at a trough.
“Come here.” Sam laughs and wipes my chin with a rough napkin from the table. His hands touch my face tenderly as he wipes the corner of my mouth.
“Sorry,” I choke through the mouth full of bread and meat, my cheeks turning a rosy pink with the feel of his hands on me.
“Don’t be sorry. You’re eating it like a pro!” He smiles and takes another bite of his own.
“How embarrassing,” I whisper, still trying to chew through my last mouthful.
“Not at all. A girl who can eat is the best kind.” He smirks.
I rest the kebab down on the paper and take a chip and eat it with an attempt at being more graceful.
He places his down as well and rests his chin on his hands. “Your ex was an idiot,” he slurs slightly.
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Just your ex was an idiot. For doing what he did.” He takes a sip of the 7Up we decided to share.
I shrug. “Yeah. Wasn’t the nicest thing that has happened to me.”
“What’s the nicest thing?” he asks.
“Huh?”
“Well, what’s the nicest thing that’s happened to you?” He looks at me intently. I want to tell him, here, right this moment, but I don’t.
“Probably this kebab,” I tease.
“Wow, the bar is set low with you, London. We need to introduce more pleasant things into your life.”
I can feel the drunk flirtation in his voice. I can also feel the drunk flirtation fill up my throat and before I have time to stop it, I blurt out, “Well, you’re nice.”
Well, I have said it now.
He smirks and nods. “I am, in fact, pretty nice.” He looks proud of himself with that statement.
“Humble…” I laugh. I feel silly but also brave at the same time. How can those two emotions entwine? I feel nervous but in an enjoyable way.
“I think I’m done with food.” I wrap up the leftovers and get up to the bin. I lose my footing as I try to pass him at the table and nearly end up on the floor. He catches me with his hand on my lower back as I fall backwards onto him.
“I think it’s home time,” he says quietly while holding me. We are but a breath away. I want to kiss him so badly. And I nearly do when the table next to us erupts into a flurry of laughter after one of the men drops his chips everywhere.
We laugh and he stands up, pulling me up with him where I slightly wobble again.
“Here, lean on me, wino.” He holds my waist with his hand, pulling me in close and letting me feel his strength.
He could easily throw me over his shoulder, but I think the mix of meat and alcohol would come tumbling out.
We make our way out of the takeaway and into the street which is still busy with people coming out of the pub and a few of the restaurants.
Sam waves his hand at a taxi driving past which pulls in towards us. He opens the door and helps me sit inside. I all of a sudden feel drunk drunk.
He hurries to the other side and sits beside me.
“Where to?”
“Brindlewood please, mate.”
The drive is hazy. The lights of Ravenswick become distant and the night takes over. Nothing but blackness when we drive.
Our hands are placed in the centre seat. Just nearly touching. I can feel the heat between them. My fingers feel like they are on fire. Does he want to hold my hand? Does he want to hold mine? Should I? I am overthinking this.
“This one, mate?” the taxi driver asks.
“Yeah, just down the drive.” Sam points in the direction of the cottage.
I rub my eyes in disbelief. “I didn’t realise we were here already!” The quickest taxi ride ever. I must have dozed off.
Sam pays the taxi driver and hurries again to my door to help me out. We walk through the gate and up the path as the rear lights of the taxi disappear down the drive. He is still holding my waist as we walk.
We stand at the door as I fumble in my bag for the key.
He stands with his hands in his pockets. “It was really nice to…” I can’t stop myself staring at him, his hugeness, all over. My tipsy mind fills to what else could be huge.
I cut him off. “Want to come in?” I lean against the doorframe doing my best to steady myself and my racing heartbeat.
His eyes glint in the moonlight. “Of course. If you want me to?” His mouth falls into a smirk.
“Well, do you want to?” I question. What if I have read this completely wrong?
“Are we going to stand out here in the cold all night debating who wants to what or can we just get in from the cold?” He edges towards me, placing his hand on my waist and guiding me inside.
We both step inside the warmth. The smell of cinnamon makes me feel grounded and home. I pull off my outerwear and kick off my boots. Sam takes off his and his jacket and follows me into the kitchen.
“Tea?” I need to sober up a little if I am doing this. I want to remember it. Doing what? I’m not sure but I invited him in. I must be expecting something.
“Sure.” His eyes follow me as I glide across the kitchen. I can feel them burning into me like he is restraining himself.
I pop the pot on the Aga and lean against the kitchen side. Nettle has made his way on the other kitchen side where Sam is leaning and wastes no time rubbing himself against his arm. Sam scratches his head as he begins to purr.
He looks from Nettle back to me. He pushes off the countertop and stalks towards me.
My breath is shallow, my legs aching. He grabs my waist and pulls me into him.
He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and tips my chin up to face him.
His eyes darken and he pulls me in closer.
He places his lips in front of mine. I can feel the heat of him.
The kettle whistles. He bites his lip before letting me go to attend to the kettle. I pour us both some tea into cups and add some honey and milk, aware that again he is watching my every move.
“I’ll try and light the fire in the front room.” He walks out of the room. My stomach flutters as the intensity leaves with him.
I walk through to the lounge and Sam already has a fire blazing, heating the room to the point I have to take my jumper off leaving just my strappy top and skirt.
He is stood admiring the fire, his hand resting on the mantle.
I place the cups of tea on the coffee table which makes him turn to face me.
“You’re beautiful,” he utters in a husky voice, tracing my body with his eyes.
I stand for a moment, unsure what to say. I take a seat on the sofa and curl my feet up under me. He walks over and sits beside me.
“I mean it, Harri.” He brushes his fingers over my hand and up my arm. The sensations bring a shiver to my spine and goosebumps raise over my skin. “You are breathtakingly beautiful. I look at you and it makes me feel primal. I can’t stop looking at you.”
I blush and his finger traces back down my arm but crosses to my ribs, down my hip to my thighs.
He strokes down my skirt before going back up but bringing the skirt with him, allowing him access to my bare skin.
I let out a whimper as he caresses up my thigh.
His grin creeps across his face, enjoying the power he has on my reactions.
He moves himself closer to me, leaving his hand on my thigh, gripping it tighter.
I would not be able to move even if I wanted to, his strength holding me in place.
The other hand sweeps around the nape of my neck, gently pulling my hair into his fist. His lips are just millimetres from mine again.
He pulls my head back slightly, making me gasp.
Fear raises in me at the same time as lust. The mix makes my lower body tremble.
He slides his tongue up my neck until he reaches my lips.
He wastes no time in kissing me urgently.
I can taste the whiskey and hops on his tongue from earlier.
He releases me from his kiss and eases his fist out of my hair allowing me to move my head.
“And I thought you were a nice boy, Samuel,” I tease.
His free hand strokes my throat, gentle but strong.
“I am a nice boy, but you, Harriet, you’ve awakened something in me,” he growls into my ear.
I let out a soft moan as he releases his hand from my pulse point and begins to kiss me once more.
He pulls me into him. The smell of his aftershave and the heat of his body are all too much.
The fire crackles in the background and the wine I have drunk makes me feel dizzy. I don’t want this moment to end.
My phone rings.
I ignore it, hoping it does not ruin this moment. It silences and we continue to explore each other with our tongues entwined.
The phone rings again. What if Granny and Aradia need me?
“I’m sorry,” I breathe out, flustered and red with passion. “I better… I better get it.”
He nods. “It’s fine.” He smiles and sits back on the couch. He is a good boy, just a good boy who knows how to also be a bad one.
I pick up the phone panicked that there is an emergency.
“Harri?” a solemn Greg says.
“Greg! Why are you calling me?” I shout without thought.
He sobs down the phone something incoherent about making a mistake.
“Hold on, Greg,” I say sternly and put the phone to my chest. I mouth at Sam, “I’m so sorry.”
He smiles and mouths, “It’s fine. I better go anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
I hesitate to think about putting the phone down on Greg, tossing it in the fire and throwing myself at Sam. But the moment has gone.
“Sure, I’d like that. And again I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll see myself out, don’t worry.” He kisses me tenderly on the cheek lingering for a moment so I can inhale him one last time.
“OK,” I whisper.
I watch as he grabs his coat and shoes and slinks off out of the front door before I can convince him otherwise. I turn my attention back to the phone.
Fire in my belly turns to rage as I put the receiver to my ear. “You can’t just call me crying and expect me to drop everything. I was busy, Greg.”
“With who?” he questions. The tears have stopped.
I want him to hurt, so I don’t try to hide it. “Why does that matter?”
“Are you dating? Are you? Harri, tell me now.” His voice is shaky and angry.
“Again, none of your business.”
“A man?”
I cut him off. “Greg!”
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” he stutters, knowing he has not got the right to pry any more than he has.
“You have no right to call and ask me things like that. Not after what you did.”
He pauses for a moment before sighing. “I’m sorry. I just miss you, Harri, please come home.”
The rage calms. I am angry but I can’t help but soothe my voice a little. “Greg, you need to stop. This is not fair.”
“It’s not fair that you just left me without even trying,” he chimes back.
“I’m not doing this over the phone, Greg.”
“You are coming back though. For the Winter Wonderland? You love that ball,” he says.
“Space, Greg. Give me some fucking space,” I yell down the phone, my voice hoarse from the emotions.
I put the phone down. I half feel sorry for his desperation, but he is also a total twat.
He ruined a kiss with a man who seems like a genuine sweetheart, and he has one hundred percent been told I will be attending Winter Wonderland by his blackmail bitch of a mother so has called to confirm it himself. God, I hate this.