Chapter Thirty-Four #2
‘Actually, no,’ I say, pushing him firmly back down onto the edge of the tub.
‘What are you doing?’ he goggles.
‘You told me I should say what I actually think rather than sinking back and hiding behind the excuse of civility when it’s not genuine.
’ I grab the pack of cotton wool and take out a fresh bundle.
‘When people are hurt, other people take care of them, River,’ I say.
‘That’s what’s supposed to happen. And if you don’t know that because of your insensitive, emotionally stunted father – no offence – then, frankly, therapy might be a good idea. ’
River’s eyebrows shoot up.
‘Plus you’re making a fucking mess of this cut with your massive hands, so pipe down, sit still and let me fix it.’
River clamps his mouth shut, his jaw flexing over and over again. I finish cleaning the wound and dab cold arnica gel over it.
‘Take off your jeans so I can see the leg,’ I say impatiently.
Without a word, River slides them off.
After cleaning it, I unwrap a small cotton dressing and place it neatly over River’s knee, and then, standing back up, lay another over his jaw, so the cut looks like nothing more than a shaving nick.
‘There,’ I say when I’m finished. ‘Was that so bloody hard?’
I wait for an answer. He remains silent.
As I watch him, it slowly occurs to me that his face looks completely different to me than it did the first day he showed up in my apartment.
It’s no longer just the handsome, cocky, perfectly arranged face of a villainous cowboy from my romance novel.
It’s River’s face as I’ve come to know it.
As I’ve uniquely experienced it. Full of memories now.
Memories of the way his eyes light up when he calls me Owl, or the jut of his jaw when he’s concentrating, or the goofy expression he makes when he’s trying to get me to laugh.
Memories of his quiet wisdom and the softness he’s started to let me see.
A face full of expressions I’ve witnessed.
All the expressions I want to witness. I laugh to myself at how I could ever have thought River Oakley was anything other than … utterly lovely.
Wait … did I say that out loud? No. I definitely did not. But River must sense what I’m thinking because all at once he lifts a hand to my cheek, pressing his hot palm gently against it.
I freeze, scared to move in case he takes his hand away, but scared by what it means if he doesn’t.
He looks right at my lips and blinks slowly, eyes eventually lifting to meet mine.
His other hand comes up to my other cheek, thumb stroking a circle beneath my ear.
‘Gertie,’ he says softly.
When he angles my head slightly, I inhale a sharp breath, unable to help myself from leaning into his palms like a cat.
My blood starts to pound in my ears.
‘We can’t,’ he rasps. ‘You know we can’t. I’m leaving soon. Never coming back. It wouldn’t be sensible.’
I swallow thickly. ‘I’m starting to think that maybe sensible is overrated.’
He gestures between us. ‘You said we ought to forget what happened in the hotel room in Little Crumpet.’
‘I said that because I thought you regretted kissing me. You started acting weird right afterwards.’
‘I was acting weird because I was shocked by exactly how much I wanted to keep on kissing you.’
‘Seriously? I thought you were kissing me out of pity? Because I was messed up over Henry?’
He lifts his chin. ‘I was following your lead.’ He steps back and throws his hands up. ‘For fuck’s sake. I think you’re gorgeous, Gertie.’
‘Gorgeous? You do? Me? You fancy me?’
He nods. ‘You. All of you. Every bit of you. I fancy your pretty face and your soft body and your hair and that backside. Christ, I fancy your eyebrows and your elbows and your higher than average lung capacity.’
‘Wow,’ I grin. ‘My elbows?’ I look down at my elbows, which look very much like any other set of elbows.
‘Gertie, you made my dick rock hard in a public pond. I’m a man who normally has a hell of a lot more self-control than that. But … this … us … I don’t want you to get hurt. The truth is you don’t have my experience. I don’t want you to feel—’
‘That sounds a lot like you think you know what’s best for me,’ I cut in, taking immediate umbrage.
I halt, surprised at how easily telling the truth is coming out lately.
‘Look, I may not be as “experienced” in meaningless flings as old heartbreaker River Oakley, but I’m telling you I won’t get attached.
The reality is, I’m fresh off a break-up.
I know you’re leaving. You know you’re leaving.
And, the thing is, this isn’t like me and Henry – you and I don’t have history – we barely know each other.
Which means I’m not gonna fall apart when it’s finished.
’ I take a deep breath. ‘And I do know it’s going to be finished.
So if the only thing that’s in your way is the state of my soft heart when you leave?
Then that’s pretty arrogant, River. I don’t need your worry. I don’t want it.’
I lift my chin, eyes latched on to his, unwavering.
River frowns ever so slightly then. ‘So what do you want, Gertie?’
‘I think you know what I want,’ I murmur, taking a step closer to him. ‘It’s all I’ve been thinking about since we kissed. I want to know what we feel like. Me and You. Just once. For—’
‘For curiosity’s sake,’ River finishes.
We stand there, less than an inch apart. When I inhale, it’s shaky.
River growls, suddenly colliding into me, done waiting, done checking, done attempting to be sensible on my behalf.
He splays both hands on my lower back, pulls me against him and presses his lips down onto mine, hard and soft and exactly, exactly right.
My legs immediately start to tremble, my whole body leaning in, instantly desperate for more.
He parts my lips with his and uses his tongue to stroke my tongue, the sensation of it making me moan helplessly into his mouth.
He replies with a low grunt of desire, moving his hands to the back of my thighs and lifting me up so that my legs instinctively wrap around him like a koala bear clinging on to a tree.
With one firm tread he has me pinned against the bathroom wall, chest pressed so close to mine I’m not sure whose heartbeat is whose.
Keeping one hand around my backside, he uses the other to weave into my hair, fingers digging lightly into my scalp in a way that sends sparks down my spine.
‘Mmmm,’ I murmur into his mouth, running my tongue along his bottom lip, sucking it, the sensation of it even hotter, juicier than the fantasy that’s been playing on a loop in my head since we got back from Little Crumpet.
I feel him hard against me and reach down my fingers, slip my hands into the waistband of his boxers.
And then, to my dismay, there’s an almighty bang on the front door.
‘Gertie! River! Open your door to me! I have a wonderful surprise!’