23
They drove the car into the Langham’s forecourt like movie stars in a film. Everything felt choreographed. The whisper of tyres on wet stone, the city lights blurring past, the plush car.
Emily didn’t want to move. If she could just stay there, Leo’s jacket around her shoulders, maybe they could live in that back seat forever.
The door opened before she could voice any of it. An umbrella swept into view, held expertly by a young bellboy in a pale pink coat, so perfectly timed it must have been performed a hundred times before.
He leaned in slightly. ‘Good evening, Sir…’
‘Jake,’ Leo cut in gently. ‘You know you can just call me Leo.’
Jake grinned. ‘Evening, Leo. Ma’am.’
Leo stepped out first, then reached back for Emily. He was always the gentleman, even now, even when they both knew what was coming. His fingers tightened around Emily’s for just a second, like he was anchoring himself to this moment.
For a man so certain about everything else, that grip felt desperate, like he was already trying to hold on to something slipping away.
Emily’s hair was still soaked from their run through the rain. Water dripped down her neck as they walked up the steps, cold and sharp against her skin. She could still taste the rain on her lips, mixed with the ghost of his kiss in the alley.
Inside, the Langham’s lobby stretched impossibly high, all black marble and white orchids. A chandelier the size of a small car threw diamonds of light across everything. The concierge nodded at Leo like he’d been expecting him.
Emily’s ballet flats squeaked on the marble, nearly sending her sliding. She kicked them off quickly, prioritising dignity over decorum. When she caught her reflection in the lift doors, she almost laughed. Her hair was wild, her mascara smudged.
But Leo watched her like she was something precious.
The lift climbed silently. Emily leaned against the mirrored wall, her pulse racing. It wasn’t from nerves, but from knowing exactly what she wanted and already grieving its loss.
The lift display read Penthouse.
The suite opened directly from the lift. No hallway. Just straight into this sprawling space with floor-to-ceiling windows and Melbourne spread out below like a canvas. The city lights, the Yarra River, the MCG lit up in the distance. Everything golden and glowing—and temporary.
Emily stood there dripping on what was probably a fifty-thousand-dollar carpet.
‘Oh, shit…’
Leo was already moving, returning with towels. She stepped onto one gratefully while he disappeared again, this time coming back with clothes. His clothes. A white T-shirt and grey tracksuit pants that would swim on her.
‘I hope these will be more comfortable for you,’ he said, almost nervously.
She took them with both hands, their fingers brushing. The contact sent heat straight through her.
In the bathroom, Emily peeled off the damp clothes piece by piece.
She left her lace underwear on. The shirt smelled like him, that expensive cologne mixed with something warmer, more essential.
The trackpants had to be cinched tight at the waist. She looked soft and slightly ridiculous in the mirror.
And still, somehow, Emily knew he’d make her feel beautiful.
When Emily came back out, he was by the windows. Just standing there with his hand on the glass, the city below.
He turned when she entered, and the look on his face said everything words couldn’t.
‘A drink?’ His voice was low, controlled. There was something underneath it, a tension that made her skin prickle.
Emily shook her head. ‘No. I don’t want anything affecting how I feel.’
Something shifted in his expression then. Like she’d just said exactly what he’d been hoping to hear.
They stood there in that golden light, the space between them charged with everything they weren’t saying. Emily could hear her own breathing, could see the rise and fall of his chest. They were being pulled together even as they stood apart.
This was it.
‘Emily, I promise you, if things were different—’ he started, his voice catching.
‘Don’t,’ she cut in, keeping it light even as her chest tightened. ‘Don’t spoil tonight.’
Then his hand found her jaw, fingers tracing it with a gentleness that made her shiver.
‘Emily,’ he said. Just her name, but it sounded like a prayer. Like a promise. Like goodbye.
That was all it took.
The kiss wasn’t tentative. Wasn’t sweet. It was deliberate and desperate. Emily’s breath faltered as his mouth parted hers, coaxing, deepening, completely undoing her. She pressed her hands to his chest, the heat of him was dizzying. She held tighter, just to feel it. Just to feel him.
He walked her back to the wall with measured steps, until she had nowhere else to go. His thigh pressed between hers, nudging upward, spreading her just enough to make her gasp.
God, she was wet, and not from the rain.
He stripped his shirt off her in one motion and let it drop to the floor.
Then he stopped. He stared at her in her black lace bra.
The straps were slightly skewed, her breasts flushed and uneven from the cold, the heat, him.
He touched her first with just fingertips, then both palms. Brushed the underside of one breast, reverent and unhurried, then cupped her fully.
His thumb found her nipple through the lace.
Emily inhaled sharply.
‘You drive me insane,’ he said, rough against her throat.
Then he dropped to his knees.
His hands traced her thighs before hooking into the waistband of the trackpants. One look up at her, checking, then he slid them down. Emily stepped out, one foot at a time, trying not to shake.
He kissed her hip. Then lower. His breath on her inner thigh made her pulse pound deep and insistent.
Then he stood up, lifted her like she weighed nothing, and carried her to the bed. Laid her down like something sacred. Hair spilled behind her, and he just stood there. Looking. Taking in every inch like he was memorising her body.
Emily was doing the same thing, building a library of his touches.
He removed her bra with one easy flick. His mouth found her collarbone.
Her breast. Then his teeth grazed it just enough to make her squirm.
She grabbed his jaw and kissed him hard, desperate, arching with the intensity of it, feeling him smile into it.
He moved down her body slowly and with purpose.
His mouth found her through the lace of her underwear, sending shockwaves through her. She gasped, her hips lifting, aching. He held her steady until she was trembling, throbbing, ready to beg.
His lips pressed against the soaked fabric, his tongue tracing a deliberate line. He was patient. Precise. And Emily could hardly bear it.
He looked up at her. Then bit down gently, and her fingers found his hair, threading through it, urging him. Every nerve was on fire.
Leo pulled back, leaving her gasping for more. He removed her lace underwear. The fabric dragged across her thighs, damp and sticky with need. Emily lifted her hips to help him, to find him, for more of him.
Then his mouth was on her properly, his tongue finding exactly where she needed it with devastating precision.
Circling her clit once, then again. Flattening his tongue across her slowly.
Pressing. Pulling back. Sucking gently. Until she couldn’t stay still, couldn’t think, could only feel the wave building like never before.
Emily’s hips arched. Her breath shattered. Her thighs threatened to clamp around his ears, but his hands kept her open. Spread. Bare. Exposed only to him.
He moaned into her. The vibration went straight through her.
‘Leo,’ she gasped, so breathless. ‘I want more of you inside me.’
He stilled. Then rose, fluid, focused, eyes dark with reverence and hunger. He kissed her once, hard, and she could taste herself as he moved over her. Emily could feel him against her thigh now, heavy and hot.
Then he was pressing forward.
That first inch stole her breath completely. He went carefully, watching her face, guiding himself with a groan that came from somewhere deep, until their hips met and there was no space between them.
He paused. Let her adjust. Let her feel it. Emily clung to him, fingernails digging into his back. His hand found her hip, his fingers pressing that familiar three-beat pulse against her skin, even now, even lost in this.
When he moved, it was devastating with a deep, impossible ache, building pressure exactly where she needed it.
He kissed her as he moved. Forehead to forehead, his nose brushing hers, his mouth to hers, sharing breath.
His hips rocked into her, steady and controlled.
No urgency. Just depth. Each thrust hitting exactly where she needed it to.
Emily’s legs wrapped around him, holding him close, as she teetered on the brink, clinging to him, her fingernails marking his back.
He was murmuring against her neck. Her name, over and over.
But Emily was too far gone. The orgasm hit like nothing she’d ever felt, ripping through her like lightning, stealing everything.
Her voice, her thoughts, everything but him.
Her whole body convulsed, back arching off the bed, her mouth open, gasping his name.
He lay there, deep inside, held her there, moving just enough to make her feel every last pulse.
Then he kissed her shoulder, her jaw, her mouth.
‘Come here,’ he murmured, his voice ragged but sure.
Before she could reply, he’d lifted her again, one arm under her knees, the other behind her back.
Emily gasped, half startled, half aroused all over again, wrapping her arms around his neck, still flushed, still pulsing.
He carried her to those massive windows. The city stretched below, silent, glimmering, completely unaware of what was happening above it.
He turned her gently to face the glass.
‘Put your hands up,’ he said against her ear.
She pressed her palms flat against the cold window, her breath fogging it instantly. The chill kissed her nipples where the glass touched her hot skin.
Emily could feel him behind her, hard against the dip of her lower back.
His hands ran down her arms, then her sides, stopping at her hips. He kissed her shoulder. The curve of her neck. The expensive cologne had long since faded, leaving just that warm, clean scent that was purely him. Then…
He slid inside.
No hesitation. No teasing. Just one long thrust that made her gasp and press harder against the glass.
Their breath fogged the window in twin clouds.
The stretch was deeper from this angle. More intense.
Emily could feel every inch of him, touching something inside that lit her nerves all over again.
He held her hips and moved with deliberate, rhythmic purpose.
Their sound filled the room. Skin meeting skin, their breathing, her desperate moans she couldn’t hold back, his low grunts of restraint.
Each thrust drove her forward. Emily’s nipples pressing against the cold glass with every movement.
Her toes curled into the carpet. Her hands searched for purchase on the smooth surface.
‘Leo,’ she whimpered. ‘Oh my…holy…’
His rhythm faltered, just slightly. Then one hand came up to cup her breast, squeezing, thumb brushing her nipple. The other slipped between her thighs, fingers finding her clit and circling in time with his thrusts.
Emily jolted. Swore. Her body didn’t know where to go, caught between the glass and him and his fingers and…
He thrust deeper. Again. And again. Each one perfectly timed with the movement of his hand, winding her tighter and tighter.
Her legs started to shake. There was nothing to hold on to but the window and him moving inside her.
‘Please, Leo…’
‘I have got you,’ he whispered against her shoulder.
His thrusts turned urgent. One more, another, then he was driving into her hard and fast while his fingers worked her clit.
Emily shattered.
It ripped through her even harder than before, every nerve on fire, her body convulsing around him as she came with a cry that probably echoed across the city. Her legs gave out completely.
He followed her, buried deep, her name on his lips as he pulsed into her, his whole body tight against hers.
They stayed there with their bodies pressed together, hearts racing, foreheads against the window. Both of them trying to remember how to breathe.
The city hummed below, muffled and distant, like another planet entirely.
Then he turned her gently. Emily’s legs barely held. He caught her easily, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her deep and spent and tender.
‘You have ruined me,’ he said quietly against her temple. The words came out rougher than he’d intended, like they’d escaped without permission. ‘I am not going to recover from this. From you.’
He carried her to the bed, pulled the sheet over them and they lay entwined, skin cooling, breath evening out.
Emily traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling his heartbeat calming beneath her fingers. Already memorising. Already saying goodbye.
‘I won’t ever see you again, will I,’ she said finally.
‘I would give anything to see you again,’ he said.
Emily looked at him then. Really looked. His face was completely open, unguarded in a way she hadn’t seen all week. Looking at her like she was all that mattered. Like she was already gone.
‘I’ve got the radio,’ she said, trying to sound steady. ‘They’re talking about giving me weekend shifts on air. Maybe full-time one day. It’s the first real thing I’ve had.’
He nodded.
‘And you…Whatever your dad’s business is, if it’s important enough to pull you away from the tour, away from me, I believe it matters, maybe more than you’re letting on.’
He didn’t argue. Didn’t make promises. Just tucked her hair behind her ear and waited.
‘This whole week’—Emily swallowed hard—‘it’s been everything. And I’ll never forget it. But I don’t want to do the goodbye. I can’t.’
He paused, then said quietly, ‘Can we just pretend, for tonight, that this is not it, that this is not goodbye?’
‘We’ve got all night,’ she said, knowing it wasn’t enough, would never be enough. ‘That’s…that’s enough time, isn’t it?’
He pulled her closer, kissed her forehead. ‘I fear it is not but as you wish it. Sleep, my beautiful Emily. I have an early flight… and I am not sure I can bear to say goodbye either.’
Emily’s chest cracked at that. But she just nodded, settled against him, and let sleep take her.
She woke to the sound of a zip, then suitcase wheels on carpet. She kept her eyes closed and her body still, even as her heart raced. The bed dipped beside her. His hand brushed her hair back. She felt his warm lips on her forehead.
Then, he whispered against her skin, ‘In any other lifetime…’
The door closed.
A single tear slid into the pillow.