Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
‘Oh my.’
Given how he’d played it down, Evie had expected Leo’s flat to be tucked away in the least posh part of Chelsea. It was, in fact, in a mansion block only a stone’s throw from Sloane Square. She had also expected it to reflect his fashion taste – stylish and understated. And it did, but it was also gorgeous.
‘Leo! You have a chandelier !’
‘It’s a light fitting,’ he said, looking uncomfortable, ‘that happens to have dangly bits.’
‘And this fireplace ,’ Evie exclaimed, running her hand over the cool, dust-free mantel. ‘So marvellously marbly.’
Leo shrugged. ‘It came with the flat.’
‘Did you decorate this place yourself?’ Evie wasn’t going to let him off the hook. ‘It’s so beautiful. So elegant.’
‘I suppose,’ he replied, gracelessly. ‘I mean, I went to a shop and bought stuff.’
Evie stared pointedly at Leo’s outfit du jour. Slim-fit pants the colour of a latte, and his usual polo shirt, this one in a cream pique fabric. His style might be understated but it was carefully considered. There was not a chance in hell that Leo had casually chosen his décor.
‘Why are you embarrassed?’ she asked. ‘Being this classy takes real talent. Own it.’
‘Do you want a glass of water?’ he said, by way of reply.
‘Leo,’ Evie warned.
He threw up his hands. ‘I don’t like praise, okay! It makes my skin crawl.’
Evie paused, puzzling this out. ‘Because you think you don’t deserve it?’
‘Partly,’ Leo said. ‘But I think mostly because praise means people are examining what you do. And I’ve spent far too much of my life being watched and judged.’
Evie’s heart swelled to bursting. This beautiful man had never been allowed to do anything freely, without being scrutinised. What he ate, what he did, how he looked; everything had to be prescribed, directed, curated, because his career depended on it. Evie felt a flash of anger towards the parents who’d forced him to live like this. They must have known the effect it was having on him, surely?
‘Don’t blame my parents.’ Leo had read her mind. ‘They both suffered through very poor childhoods, and though they were earning enough to pay the bills by the time I was born, I think that kind of fear never leaves you. Every penny I earned my parents put away for me. So that when I got too old for modelling, I’d be set. I’d never have to worry about money.’
‘That’s why they were heartbroken when you quit,’ said Evie. ‘They’d planned for you to earn for another ten years or so.’
‘At least.’ Leo pursed his mouth apologetically. ‘Male models often have a longer shelf life than women.’
‘Have they come to terms with it now?’ Evie hoped the answer was yes.
‘They worry constantly ,’ said Leo. ‘And I understand, I do. But sometimes it gets a bit – much.’
Evie recalled coming home from school crying after another day of being bullied, and seeing her own mother’s face. The sadness on it, and the helplessness. It had made eight-year-old Evie feel doubly bad because now she’d upset her mother. It was hard to bear a parent’s pain as well as your own.
‘They love you,’ said Evie. ‘And that’s their way of expressing it. If you focus on the intent behind their words, it might get easier.’
Leo inclined his head to one side, assessing her like she was a painting. ‘I feel like there’s a whole side of you I’ve yet to get to know,’ he said. ‘Serious Evie. She doesn’t come out much.’
‘I never joke about love,’ said Evie.
It was true, but she’d only that moment realised it. She’d tossed the word ‘love’ about plenty of times. The feeling , the real emotion, she’d been holding close, waiting until it was (that word, again) safe for her to release it. Waiting for someone she could trust. Someone who struggled with their sense of self-worth but wasn’t afraid to admit it. Who faced their fears and kept going. Who didn’t run away when life got tough. Someone she could depend on to love her whole self, weaknesses, quirks and all.
‘It’s a terrifying prospect, isn’t it?’ said Leo, who might actually be psychic. ‘Giving your heart to someone?’
‘Makes me want to curl into a foetal position,’ Evie confessed. ‘And, in fact, crawl right back into the womb.’
Leo’s smile was filled with affection and knowing. He moved towards her until they stood face to face, not touching, but fully aware of each other, in more ways than purely physical.
‘I’m kind of a basket case,’ Leo murmured. ‘Hope that’s okay?’
‘I’m all manner of weirdness,’ Evie replied. ‘Looks like we’re made for each other.’
‘Can I kiss you again?’ Leo’s mouth was already lowering to hers.
‘You can do anything you like to me,’ Evie whispered. ‘And preferably right now.’
Leo’s kiss started slow, his mouth gently taking in her upper lip, then her lower, his tongue softly teasing. He tasted faintly of vanilla ice cream, and it took all of Evie’s willpower not to throw him on the sofa and rip his clothes off. Patience , she told herself.
Her hands chose to ignore her. One was messing up his perfect hair, and the other had slid under his polo shirt and was blazing a trail across the smooth warm skin of his back and side. When her fingertips circled round to the earthly paradise that was his abs and chest, she felt his muscles flinch. Leo pressed his mouth hard against hers and grabbed her rear to pull her closer. Someone was making lustful moaning sounds. Oh – they both were. Nice.
‘I really think you should show me your bedroom now,’ Evie whispered between kisses.
Leo’s bed was neatly made, because of course it was. Even his pillows were symmetrically stacked and plumped. Seemed a pity they were about to wreck it, but too bad. It was a bed. Its job was to be comfortable while two people had rampant, passionate sex on top of it.
Getting naked proved tricky when neither of them was willing to fully disentangle. But when every stitch of clothing was discarded, they paused to drink each other in.
‘You do have a tattoo there!’ said Evie in delight. ‘I knew it!’
‘Never tell my parents,’ pleaded Leo.
Evie’s fingertips traced the ink lines on his hip. ‘Icarus,’ she said. ‘Why him?’
‘A reminder to stay humble.’
Once again, Evie’s heart swelled. ‘You’re too hard on yourself, Leo Hurst.’
‘Maybe.’
Leo’s voice had a tight edge to it. Probably because Evie’s fingers had stopped tracing the line of the tattoo and were now caressing the underside of his erection. Which of course, could never be too hard. It bucked under her touch, and Leo let out a hiss of breath.
‘Can we–?’
‘Absolutely,’ whispered Evie.
And they tangled again, ruining the crisp smoothness of Leo’s bed, hands and mouths hungry for each other, skin on skin igniting a desire that flamed stronger and higher, until Evie couldn’t stand it a moment longer.
‘Inside me,’ she demanded. ‘Now!’
Leo fumbled in his bedside drawer. There was a rip of foil, a swift movement, and then Leo was propped above her, looking down, his eyes dark with lust.
‘That was quick,’ said Evie.
‘I’m highly motivated,’ he replied. ‘May I?’
‘You may,’ Evie smiled.
And then her mind became incapable of rational thought, as Leo entered her and every atom in her body went nuclear.
‘Holy god,’ muttered Leo. He stopped moving and seemed, unbelievably, to be about to withdraw.
Evie grabbed his hips to prevent him. ‘No? Why? Keep going !’
‘I will,’ he said. ‘I swear. I just – need a moment.’
‘I don’t ,’ said Evie, meaningfully. ‘Keep. Going.’
Leo gazed at her. ‘Right. Um, slow? Or–’
‘Stop talking and fuck me now!’
‘ Okay !’
He thrust into her again, and Evie cried out in pleasure. Then it all got very physical, and it was fortunate that Leo could afford a quality bed because Evie’s bed right now would be kindling. Leo’s panted ‘ Shit … ’ coincided with Evie’s orgasm flaring through her like a fireworks display, and it all got very physical and shouty.
Some time later, possibly centuries, Evie began to be aware of her surroundings. Her arm draped over Leo’s sweaty warm chest, her face pressed into his shoulder. The slight roughness of linen beneath her. The scent of salt and spice, and something floral, too. Probably a super expensive candle. Or – crazy possibility – actual flowers.
Evie turned her head and looked around. Leo’s bedroom was very small and, apart from the heap of clothes on the floor, ridiculously neat. A set of shelves by the bed held tidy bookstacks. There were some terrible business books, true, but there were also some excellent novels that had obviously been read because the spines showed wear. There was also a lovely photo of Leo as a teenager with a couple that had to be his parents. Their faces were so proud.
‘That was taken in New York.’
Leo lay on his side, propped up on one elbow.
‘I’d just signed with a huge modelling agency. They shouted us all a trip over to mark the occasion.’
‘How old were you?’
Leo stared at his younger self. ‘Fifteen. Dumb as a box of rocks.’
Evie cupped his cheek, caressed it with her thumb. ‘Be kind to young Leo,’ she said. ‘He was a lot cooler than you think. How else could he have grown up to be such an amazing human?’
‘Praise,’ said Leo, flatly.
‘Suck it up,’ said Evie.
Leo smiled. ‘My worst nightmare.’ He kissed her gently. ‘And the best thing that ever happened to me.’
Evie kissed him back. ‘Do you want to hang out this weekend? Visit some art galleries, museums, Kew gardens? Or, you know, stay in bed for the whole two days …?’
‘There’s a great talk on at the Imperial War Museum,’ said Leo.
‘I think I liked you better when you weren’t funny,’ Evie informed him.
Leo grinned and ran his thumb lightly across the underside of her bare breasts. Evie shivered, the sudden tautness of her nipples a contrast to the liquefying of her insides. Her happy place began to pulse with some urgency. Luckily, Leo’s hand was already moving south.
‘How do you like me now?’ he murmured, as his fingers and thumb found parts of her Evie hadn’t even known could be stimulated.
‘Don’t get cocky,’ said Evie.
‘On second thoughts,’ she managed, before she was robbed of speech, ‘that’s exactly what you should be.’