Chapter 51
The Dog and Ferret, a tube ride away in Richmond, is a gastropub with homely, winsome decor and crooked ceilings.
There’s a tempting menu but it’s so late when we arrive that the kitchen has closed.
Thankfully, the staff offer to put together a grazing board of cheeses and cured meats, walnuts, grapes and crackers.
We sit in a cosy corner and pick at the food, resting our aching feet as we relive the highlights of the day before heading to our room.
Sam said he’d struggled to get somewhere, given how in demand hotel rooms are during the Championships, but this couldn’t be more perfect.
There’s something romantically old fashioned about the place, with its patterned wallpaper, crisp linen and luxurious touches in the bathroom.
I kick off my shoes and sit on one of the twin beds, hinging the backs of my knees over the edge as I flop onto the linen.
‘This is lovely,’ I say, propping myself up on my elbows.
Sam is undoing a button on his shirt and I’m hit by an acute appreciation of his neck. He catches me looking and a smile makes its way to his mouth.
‘Have I got something on my chin?’ he asks, wiping away an invisible blot.
‘Just admiring the view, that’s all.’
An amused sound escapes from his mouth, which makes me grin.
I pick up my phone and make a point of studying that instead.
But he walks towards me and I lower the device as he climbs on top and straddles my hips.
With his elbows either side of me, he seems to focus on each individual feature of my face, before pressing his mouth gently against mine.
‘I’m going to take a shower,’ he murmurs, but I grab his waist and draw him back to my lips again.
My tongue catches the edge of his and something swoops all the way from my throat to the pit of my belly.
He tilts his head, deepening the kiss as I have a sensation of wanting my entire body to melt into his.
I roll my groin against him. A hum escapes from somewhere deep in his throat.
‘You smell perfectly acceptable to me,’ I murmur.
Understatement. He smells amazing and nothing less.
We might have been in the same clothes for fifteen hours, but as my hands reach under his shirt to find his smooth, warm body, my senses are filled with the base chemistry of his skin.
The aftershave he wore this morning is amplified into some musky, ambrosian hit that makes me want to press my face against his neck and just inhale.
Our foreheads touch as he draws a finger down my chin before we begin to kiss, achingly slowly.
‘I really do need that shower,’ he sighs.
I tut. ‘You and your personal hygiene.’
He withdraws slowly, our eyes locked as he stands up. As he finally turns away, I bend to sniff my armpit. Could be worse but I’m not exactly fragrant.
‘I think I need one too.’
‘Do you want to go first?’ he asks. But then he freezes and turns back to me as something occurs to him. ‘Unless . . .’
‘Unless what?’
He shrugs. ‘We could always share.’
I suddenly can’t think of a reason why we wouldn’t.
We make our way into the bathroom amidst a series of breathless kisses and whispered words.
I fumble with the buttons on his shirt. He unzips my dress, then lifts it over my head.
It strikes me that the nice underwear I’ve started buying recently – sheer and sexy with filigree detailing – is in itself an aphrodisiac.
The same cannot be said for my hairdo.
I stand in front of the mirror to remove the first of what must be two dozen clips, as Sam turns on the shower.
When he returns, he slides his arms around me from behind and begins to kiss my shoulders.
The ache of desire makes me feel soft everywhere.
None of this helps me to concentrate on the task at hand.
I become increasingly frustrated as the clips get stuck.
‘Fuck,’ I say, yanking at one.
‘Need some help?’
He reaches for the top of my head as I lower my arms. He admittedly has a better view than me, but he’s also gentle and methodical, taking care not to tug too hard as he works each clip out and places them next to the sink.
When they’re finally all out, he smooths the soft tangles of my hair with his fingers and arranges it around my neck.
Then he kisses my shoulder again, making me shiver.
‘Thank you.’ I turn around to face him.
‘Pleasure,’ he whispers, as his eyes soften on my face.
He reaches around my back to unclasp my bra.
Steam hits my breasts as it drops to the floor.
We sink into another kiss and start discarding clothes, one after the other.
Shirt. Trousers. Underwear, first his, then mine.
I want him so badly that as I arch towards him, my cheeks and chest already flushed pink, I feel like I could devour him given half a chance.
We make our way under the warm jets of water in a tangle of limbs.
His hands are in my hair, my palms on his behind, my breasts against his chest.
In the steam and the heat, I bury myself into him, my desire concentrated and dizzying. He reaches behind me and fills his palm with soap. I pull back as he smooths it across his chest, under his arms. I don’t exactly know why but it makes me smile.
‘What?’ he laughs. ‘I wasn’t joking about needing a wash. This wasn’t just some ruse to get you in here and ravish you.’
He pulls me in and presses his slippery body against mine. ‘More than happy to be ravished,’ I murmur.
He considers the statement for a moment, then reaches for the dispenser again, holding my gaze.
Then he slides both palms together and places them on either side of my neck before gliding them slowly along my collarbones, over my shoulders, down to my forearms. When he reaches my hands, he runs his fingers over the top of my knuckles, interlocking them briefly.
I stand, immobile and woozy from the meandering heat of his hands as they begin to work on my back, snaking over my shoulder blades before meeting in the middle at the top of my spine. Every nub of my vertebrae feels sensually alive as he skims downwards to the crease of my butt.
Over the course of some timeless period, my head lolls in a haze of heat and desire.
Every inch of my body soaped and smoothed.
Each little dip and crease. The soft skin behind my knees.
The delicate underside of my elbows. The flesh inside my thighs.
He lifts my arms above my head, allowing jets of warm water to wash away the bubbles.
Then he turns around and he pushes the little bottles of shampoo away from a shelf at the side. They clatter onto the tiles before he lifts me up onto it, making me gasp.
The inside of my knees graze his hips as he dips his head and draws my breast into his mouth. The way his tongue plays with my nipple causes his name to slip out of me, entirely involuntarily.
‘Oh Sam . . .’
I want to kiss him on the mouth again but can’t let him stop.
The dilemma proves immaterial when he finally sinks to his knees.
I press my back into the tiles as the water cascades down the muscles around his shoulders and he presses his lips against the inside of my thighs.
I run my hands through his hair, teasing the wet curls as he sinks his mouth into the silky folds between my legs.
My breath catches as his tongue softens and swirls. I tilt my pelvis, rolling in towards the pleasure. I’m barely able to think straight as my senses fall inwards like a free diver, while the sound of water and bliss builds in my ears, until I am gasping in waves of rushing pleasure.