Chapter Twenty-Six
Elle
Icouldn’t avoid him for the rest of the evening.
As soon as I was finished in the ladies, I grabbed us a bag of hot sugary donuts as a peace offering and headed back to meet him.
Hopefully he was feeling better now and not going to throw me into the sea.
I was delving inside, breathing in the deliciously doughy, crisp scent and nearly screamed as someone caught my elbow.
Stephen pulled me between two of the huts and I had to clutch my donuts to my chest, despite them burning my hand through the paper bag to avoid them being spilled on the ground.
He hemmed me in, one arm either side of me, the colour back in his face finally. ‘What was that before?’
‘Hmm…?’ I gave him my best innocent expression.
‘Why did you kiss me on the wheel? You were the one who said no flirting and no funny business. Those were your rules but you’re the one who keeps crossing the line. Hand-holding at the weekend. Kissing today.’
‘And both were examples of what you rightly labelled an “ulterior motive”. The hand-holding was about ingratiating ourselves, giving a trustworthy impression. Today, it was just a distraction tactic to take your mind off your panic attack. I told you that at the time.’
‘Right. So it’s pure coincidence that your solution to everything happens to be physical contact? Nothing to do with being attracted to me?’
‘No. I mean, yes. To the first. Coincidence, only.’ My heart thumped heavily as his head tilted slightly.
He would notice that I had dodged the question about being attracted to him.
But I really hadn’t made the decision to kiss him because of that.
The last thing I wanted to do was kiss him when I found him utterly, maddeningly gorgeous and yet knew there was absolutely no future in giving in to that.
OK, well, maybe not the last thing. But it wouldn’t have been a sensible move.
It had been purely an act of kindness – to make up for forcing him on the wheel in the first place.
‘You know, if you are attracted to me, you don’t need to make up excuses to kiss me.
You just have to ask.’ His voice was low, hypnotising, and he smoothed his fingers over a loose strand of my hair.
Rather than tuck it behind my ear this time, he followed it down, tracing the line of it along my neck.
‘Have you never considered what it would have been like between us? If it hadn’t all been a ruse on New Year’s Eve?
If we had met up and done some of the things we talked about in those messages?
’ He leaned in closer. ‘Do you remember saying that you wondered what I would taste like? Is there anything else you’d like to find out? ’
I shook my head. Unable to speak. Mint. His mouth tasted of mint and salt and sin. As to anywhere else…
‘You haven’t wondered? You haven’t imagined it? Us, skin on skin, a long night ahead of us.’ His fingertip danced along my collarbone and my body warmed in ways that had nothing to do with the summer heatwave, or the bag of hot donuts leaking grease onto my chest.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment. I needed to get it together. This was not going to happen. I was not going to let him seduce me. I was not going to be another conquest he would move on from in a matter of days.
‘I imagined everything,’ I said in a husky whisper that I didn’t have to fake at all.
He moved back to look me in the face and the heat in his eyes captured me – almost made me forget I was supposed to be putting him back in his place.
It would’ve been so easy to let him kiss me.
Properly. But no. I squashed down the part of me that was aching for it and raised an eyebrow at him, smiling.
‘I’m a writer; I always imagine everything.
I imagined what it was like to kiss you.
And to slap you around the face. To wake up with you in the morning.
To pour a milkshake over your head. Curse of the writer’s brain.
’ I shrugged. ‘It doesn’t mean I want any of those things to really come true – after all, I write about murders for a living. ’
‘It genuinely meant nothing, then?’
‘It was exactly what I said it was. A distraction for you. It kinda worked and now we don’t need any more distractions so…’ I made a little motion with my hand for him to back up and give me some space. He obliged, slowly. Thank God. I needed oxygen that wasn’t laced with Stephen. ‘Donut?’
‘Thank you.’ He grabbed one out of the bag, and took a bite. I could see a smile tug at the edge of his mouth and sugar glistening on his lips. My mouth was watering. ‘Have you ever done the donut challenge?’ he asked.
‘Eat a whole one without licking your lips? I’ve heard of it. Seems a bit pointless to me. You should just eat the donut and enjoy it.’
‘Feeling in control of your impulses is a different kind of enjoyment, isn’t it? To know you’re not a slave to your biological needs.’
I was putting on my best poker face now.
Was he suggesting I was a slave to my sexual urges for him?
That I couldn’t control myself around him?
Hardly. If anything the opposite was true.
But arguing the point didn’t seem like it would be useful – in fact, that was probably what he wanted.
He was provoking me because he knew I wouldn’t want to let his implication go.
So I did a rare thing and kept my lip buttoned.
He took the last bite, still not licking his lips. I was not dying to do it for him. I was not.
‘And then, there’s the increased satisfaction when you decide you can give in. The build-up, the anticipation, makes it all the sweeter.’ He dragged his tongue slowly between his lips and then around them, I could feel it down to my toes. Bastard.
‘Well. Whatever floats your boat, I suppose.’ I forced another carefree smile. ‘Shall we go catch the train? Now we’re all clear on what I have and haven’t imagined between us and what I will and will definitely not be doing?’
‘Lead the way.’ He swept a gallant arm out and I strolled past him.