Leila turned out the light. James had remembered just a little too much of that night and the kiss downstairs had only confirmed their attraction and so he reached for her.
Leila fought with herself as she lay there on her side with her back to him. His hand was on her stomach and she could feel the heat of his palm as he stroked her newly emerged bump.
He held her most mornings but that was when she went to him.
This was different from that, Leila knew.
She was angry at the want in herself, at the temptation to turn around to his mouth as he started to kiss her shoulder and move his lips up to her neck. She was angry because as his hand stroked her stomach she was willing it to move down.
It obliged.
And still she lay there, fighting herself, for she wanted the roam of his hand and Leila wanted the skill of his mouth. She didn’t want to be in want of him; she didn’t want the power of his touch to enslave her again. She didn’t want the weakness that his touch and words procured, for he was telling her now that he was crazy about her, that he craved her scent, her skin.
He turned her towards him and he came half over her, his mouth seeking hers, his erection nudging against her thigh, and the weight of him was blissful. She ached for his kiss, yet she refused it; she would not give all of herself to him. Leila moved her head so that when she spoke it was to his cheek.
‘Just do it.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You don’t have to kiss me, you don’t have to caress me, you don’t have to tell me you care—just do it...’
‘Can you feel that?’ James asked, and didn’t wait for her answer. ‘I doubt it, because it isn’t there any more.’
She got then that he was talking about his erection, or what had been one.
He cussed and then turned on his back and they lay in tense silence until Leila broke it.
‘Is it me you want?’ Leila checked. ‘Or is it just that I am here.’
James rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ He looked over. ‘You’d be a pretty hard fantasy to top.’
She turned her back to him.
‘Look what happened when I wasn’t here.’
‘Yes, I do get what you’re saying,’ James conceded. ‘We’re forced together, but that doesn’t mean...’
‘You forced us together, James,’ Leila interrupted. ‘You pushed for this just because you want to be close to the baby, so that I couldn’t take him or her with me. So please don’t rewrite history and don’t try to pretend that you gave me a choice.’
‘Why don’t we rewrite our history?’ James nudged. ‘Why don’t we start being nice to each other and try dating—holding hands...’ He yawned. ‘Conversation. All the stuff that I’ve spent my life avoiding.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m hot for you, Leila,’ James said, and he made her cheeks pink. ‘Because I remember how good we were and it’s going to be a bloody long seven years otherwise.’
‘James...’ She turned and looked at him, at her very honest playboy, and she offered a suggestion. ‘It isn’t a turn-on when you keep pointing out we have a limited time frame.’