Chapter 32
I hadn’t set an alarm the previous night, what with one thing an another, but I woke at six in the morning anyway – because, what with one thing and another, I hadn’t closed the blinds either, and the morning sun was streaming through the windows and piercing my eyelids. I turned to bury my face in the pillow, but found there was no pillow there – instead, there was a shoulder. A warm, muscular shoulder, already smelling familiar.
Ross’s shoulder.
He was asleep, one arm flung upwards over his head, his face still and peaceful, half-smiling as if he was having a particularly pleasant dream. The sunshine on his skin turned his hair and the shadow of stubble on his jaw a bright gold.
I snuggled down, fitting my head into the hollow where his bicep and pectoral muscles met, and waited to see if I’d fall asleep again – but there was no chance whatsoever of that. I felt as excited as I’d felt on Christmas morning when I was little, conscious of the weight at the end of my bed that meant my stocking was there, filled, and Santa had been.
Then, I’d have leaped out of bed and gone next door to wake my sister, so the two of us could prod and rattle and sniff the wrapped contents of our stockings until we couldn’t wait any longer, and had to burst into our parents’ room, the stockings cradled in our arms like overgrown puppies.
Amelie. Thinking of my sister brought a stab of pain that was almost physical. Feeling it alongside the glow of happiness I’d woken up with was like stepping off a beach into a freezing ocean – part of me in the sunshine and gorgeously warm, part submerged by water and icy cold.
Sleep now out of the question, I took comfort in a daydream of the previous night. How our kiss had turned into more than a kiss – our hands exploring each other’s bodies, our breath intermingling, our voices gasping and whispering.
I remembered how awkward I’d felt when I realised what was going to happen – almost frightened for a second, until Ross had paused, held me close and said, ‘It’s okay. Are you okay? Say if you want to stop.’
I took a deep breath and said, ‘I don’t want to stop.’
But, as if he’d sensed the effort of will, the courage it had taken for me to commit to what we were about to do, he’d slowed right down. For the next half an hour, every touch of his fingertips or lips or tongue had silently asked that question. I half-remembered him even asking it aloud, one more time, just before I lowered myself on to him and took him inside me for the first time.
But he hadn’t needed to ask, not then, and my body had given him all the answer he needed.
It had been perfect. Compared to those times with Kieren, it had been night and day. To do this with a man I liked, trusted and truly desired, rather than just wanting him to desire me – because I couldn’t have been surer that he did – was amazing. It was a revelation.
I opened my eyes, as if to check that Ross was still there, he wasn’t a dream, even though I could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest under my forearm, the tickle of his hair under my skin.
To my surprise, he was awake, his eyes open too, gazing down at me.
‘Morning,’ he said.
‘Morning.’ When our eyes met, I expected to blush, or for him to, but it didn’t happen. Whatever cringe factor there’d been between us was gone now, replaced with confidence and excitement.
‘Sleep well?’ he asked.
‘Brilliantly. How about you?’
‘So well. I could murder a coffee, though.’
‘And some breakfast.’
‘We don’t need to get a flight until this evening.’
‘So we have time…’ I tilted my head and found his lips with mine. Last night, we’d kissed and kissed, all the way through, and then we’d kissed some more until we’d fallen asleep. I wanted to check that it was as good as I remembered.
And it was. Actually, it was better. There was less hesitancy now. There was no doubt in his mind that I wanted to be kissed, and none in mine that he wanted to kiss me. I felt no shyness in reaching down under the duvet, running my fingertips down the muscled ridges of his torso – all those Crossfit classes had done their job, I thought – until I found the warm, springy hardness of his cock, knowing before I touched it the sound of pleasure he’d make when my fingertips brushed his skin.
He knew, too. He knew where to touch me, and how firmly, and for how long. He knew when I couldn’t bear to wait any more, and how quickly to move once he was inside me. He knew the instant when I was about to orgasm so that he could let go, too.
Afterwards, we showered together, splashing and giggling like loons, then dressed and threw our belongings into our bags and ran downstairs, stepping hand-in-hand out into the morning.
It was eight o’clock, still cool and fresh. The air sparkled like it had been through a dishwasher. The stream of people on the sidewalk, making their way to the station to go to work, all seemed to be smiling. Even the little dogs on their early morning walks seemed to have an extra spring in their steps.
We found the café I’d been to on my first day in the city, sat at a table in the window and ordered coffee. Then Ross had a stack of pancakes with bacon and maple syrup and I had a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel, and a portion of cheesy grits because he said it was my last day in New York and if I hadn’t tried them yet, I had to now. And when I tasted them and made a face, he laughed and traded them for three of his pancakes.
‘So, what’s the plan?’ he asked. ‘We could take a walk in Prospect Park. Or we could go up the Empire State Building. Unless there’s something you’d rather do?’
I licked a drop of maple syrup off my finger. The thought of spending the day with Ross was almost irresistible, but I knew what I had to do.
Ross read my thoughts as clearly as if I’d spoken.
‘Sometimes when I’m out here I pay a visit to the fire station where Dad worked,’ he said. ‘I take them doughnuts. I’ll do that. You?—’
I nodded. ‘I’ll go and see my sister.’