Chapter Thirty
It could have been the morning sunlight that woke me, because no one had spared a thought to closing the shutters when we’d moved from the hallway to his bed.
But it was more likely to be the lazy passage of his finger travelling slowly down my spine and then detouring for a pit stop on my hip bone.
I smiled into his pillow, which smelled deliciously of him and which I might try to smuggle out of his flat.
One night: that was all it had taken for me to become so addicted to Rhys that I was already worrying about how to cope with separation.
I rolled over onto my back, unencumbered by the sheets that were still tangled in a ball by our feet.
I smiled up into the face that was looking down at me with an expression so open, so tender, that I wanted to photograph it and save it forever.
‘I woke you,’ he said, trying to sound regretful but failing miserably.
‘It’s a nice way to start the day,’ I said, my voice low.
The finger left my hip and journeyed north, skating over every rib it passed and then pausing as it reached the underside of my breast. I drew in a sharp breath.
‘I can think of a better way,’ Rhys said, his fingers travelling upwards over the soft curve and finding my nipple, which was already erect and waiting for him.
‘Again?’ I teased softly, seconds before his mouth silenced me with a long, slow kiss.
‘I can’t seem to get enough of you,’ he said, biting gently on my lower lip. ‘It could be quite a problem.’
I ran my hands down his back and gripped his hips, pulling him closer.
‘No problem here.’
Much later, sated and sleepy, I burrowed my face into the hollow of his shoulder, trying to stifle a yawn, but he saw it and smiled.
‘Tired or bored?’
I looked up, my eyes straying to his lips as a kaleidoscope of memories from the previous night flashed through my head. It was no wonder I was tired.
‘Definitely not bored,’ I said, pressing a kiss against his throat and enjoying the raspy feel of his stubble against my lips. ‘And we didn’t get much sleep last night.’ There wasn’t even a hint of complaint in my voice.
‘I feel like I ought to apologise,’ he said, running his thumb gently across my lips, which were still swollen from his kisses. ‘But there’s not a single thing about last night that I’d change.’
His fingers left my face and moved into my hair, which was spread out across his pillow. He picked up a strand, winding it over and through his fingers and held it up like a skein of silk. It caught the sunlight, turning the usual russet red into an amber flame.
‘I’ve looked through so many colour charts, trying to find one that matches this,’ he said, talking more to himself than me.
‘Farrow and Ball probably have one,’ I joked.
‘I was thinking more of oil paints than emulsion.’ He switched his gaze from my hair to my face. ‘I’d really like to paint you, Ellie.’
‘Do you mean “like one of your French girls”?’ I said, not sure why I’d gone for a sassy retort rather than a serious one. ‘That’s a line from—’
‘I know where it’s from,’ Rhys said with a smile. ‘And for what it’s worth, there was definitely room for both of them on that door.’
I dissolved into giggles that I tried to smother in his shoulder.
I’d never had anyone so in tune with me before that we even shared the same sense of humour.
There were differences between us, undoubtedly, but I took comfort in the fact that there were also many areas where we were well matched.
I gave a secret smile, knowing I could now add ‘sexually’ to that list. Was that enough? Or was it just enough for now?
‘I suppose if the painting was for your eyes only, that would be okay.’
He tilted my chin with one hand while the other ran down my body, making every nerve ending tingle and my legs want to part.
‘I don’t want to share this with anyone,’ he said.
‘Me neither,’ I said, grazing my fingertips over the Lichtenberg figures on his chest.
‘They’re still there,’ he said reassuringly.
‘And now we’re here . . . sharing your bed.’
He pulled me closer towards him.
‘Finally,’ he said, his voice a husky burr. It was a beautiful moment that I somehow managed to ruin as my stomach growled noisily.
‘Hungry?’
‘Ravenous,’ I said with so much feeling that he laughed.
‘Okay. The fridge is embarrassingly empty, but if you can hold on for twenty minutes, I’ll go out and pick us up some breakfast.’
He was already swinging his legs out of bed and striding across the room. It was rude to stare, but my eyes couldn’t be torn away from the perfection of his body. If anybody deserved to be immortalised in a painting or a sculpture, it was definitely him, rather than me.
‘If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to break my promise to feed you and end up climbing back into bed,’ he warned.
‘Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,’ I said, trying so hard to sound sultry and totally blowing it when once again my stomach rumbled.
He pulled on joggers and a t-shirt from the drawers of a pine dresser before either of us derailed the plan. After stepping into trainers, Rhys returned to the bed and pressed a quick hard kiss on my mouth.
‘Why don’t you try to get some sleep while I’m gone?’
I shook my head. ‘I think maybe I’ll have a shower, if that’s okay?’
‘Of course it is. There are clean towels in the bathroom cabinet and help yourself to anything you need.’ He inclined his head towards the dresser.
‘There are some of my t-shirts in the top drawer, if you want to wear something other than your dress.’ His eyebrows waggled comically.
‘Or you could wear absolutely nothing at all. That would be good too.’
We were both still laughing as he left the room, and moments later I heard the click of the front door closing.
The shower was double size – big enough for two, I couldn’t help noticing.
I lifted my face to the enormous rainforest head and let the water pour down on me.
It seemed like Rhys wasn’t the only one who couldn’t get enough of us.
Maybe I should turn the thermostat down to cold, I wondered, as my fingers worked a thick sudsy lather of shampoo into my hair.
It was tantalising to recognise the fragrances he used on my own skin.
It felt almost – but not quite – as good as having him in there with me.
You’d think you’d never had sex before, my reflection scathingly pointed out when I cleared a space in the steamed-up bathroom mirror to comb my hair.
I smiled into the glass. It kind of feels like I haven’t, or that I’ve spent the last fifteen years not doing it right.
I looked younger and fresher now the previous night’s make-up had been washed away and with my hair hanging in a damp cloak down my back.
There was mascara and lip gloss in my bag, but I didn’t apply them.
I couldn’t remember ever wanting someone to see the real me, know the real me, the way I did with him.
With the towel wrapped around me like a sarong, I padded back into Rhys’s bedroom and headed for the chest of drawers to borrow something to wear.
I let the towel drop to my ankles as I reached for a pale blue t-shirt that looked large enough for me to wear as a dress.
The fabric was soft and loose-fitting, and I burrowed my face into its folds, hoping to catch a trace of its owner, but all I could smell was fabric conditioner.
My underwear was still scattered somewhere I’d yet to discover, so I slipped the t-shirt on without it.
It hung loosely on me and threatened to slip off my shoulder every time I moved, but at least it covered everything that needed covering.
I made my way to the kitchen with the intention of making a much-needed cup of coffee. I’d already opened three wrong cabinets and was no closer to finding where he kept the coffee or mugs when I heard the sound of a key in the front door.
I glanced at the kitchen clock – Rhys had made it back faster than expected.
The idea that perhaps he’d wanted to hurry back to me made me smile.
It also made me reckless. With a mischievous smile, I went to pull the t-shirt off, already imagining his look of surprise when he found me naked in his kitchen.
I don’t know what instinct stopped me at the last moment, but I’m eternally grateful for it.
The lightness of the tread gave me a millisecond of warning, but not enough to wipe the look of shock off my face.
‘Who the hell are you?’ demanded the woman glaring at me.
It was a question I had no need to ask her. Standing before me was Rhys’s very beautiful and very angry-looking ex, dangling a set of door keys from her fingers.
In that second every tender memory from the previous night was swept away.
Annalise was glaring furiously at the interloper who was standing in what I was suddenly afraid was her kitchen.
Had he lied to me about going back to her?
People talk about the bottom falling out of their world and it had always sounded overly dramatic, but that is exactly what it felt like as her icy blue eyes raked me from head to bare feet.
Told you he was too good to be true, crowed Old Ellie, whose presence in my head was almost as unwelcome as Annalise’s was in the kitchen.
The photographs I’d seen of her hadn’t done her justice, and it threw me totally when she said the same of me.
‘You’re prettier in real life than I thought you’d be.’ The way she said the words told me no thank you was required. It wasn’t a compliment. ‘So, you’re Ally,’ she said, her voice still glacial.
I almost didn’t correct her. ‘Ellie, actually.’ I cleared my throat uncomfortably. ‘I can explain . . .’
She dropped the door keys on the worktop and leant back against it as though this wasn’t the most awkward encounter in the world.
‘Go on then. This should be interesting.’
‘Look, I’m sorry. I never would have . . . It was never my intention to . . . I didn’t know that . . .’