The Bad Boy Wants Me(27)

‘I like living dangerously,’ he says, shrugging into his shirt and doing up a couple of buttons.

‘Are you serious about going up to the roof?’ I ask.

‘Of course.’

‘Why do you want us to go up there?’

‘The better to push you off when you give me sass,’ he says with a deep growl.

‘Ha, fucking ha.’

‘Have you never been up there?’ he asks curiously.

‘Of course, I haven’t. I’m like other human beings. I tend to spend my time under roofs and not on them.’

‘Come on,’ he urges putting on his shoes. ‘You’ll like it. It’s good up there. I’ll show you my ultra, super-secret hiding spot when I was a boy.’

For a few seconds I look at him half-undecided, then I jump out of bed, and slip my T-shirt back over my head.

‘I never thought I’d ever say this, but you need to wear some pants, girl.’

I grin at him. ‘There’s hope for you yet,’ I say, and pull on a pair of jeans.

‘Ready?’ he asks.

I nod.

He opens the door and we pad noiselessly along the corridor to the narrow steps that lead up to the attic. The stairs creak and I freeze. Cash winks at me.

‘Relax, you need to swing a bat into my father’s head to wake him up.’

I giggle softly at the thought of mild mannered Mr. Hunter sleeping one floor below us.

In the attic there is a desk, a couple of cupboards and black bin bags of old toys that Britney hasn’t the heart to part with. Quietly, Cash pushes the desk so it is under the sash window. He opens the window and, placing his hands on either side of the frame, hauls himself up and scrambles onto the roof. I climb on the desk and Cash offers his hand. I hesitate. The roof looks pretty steep from the ground and we are three floors up.

‘Are you sure this is safe?’

‘Don’t worry we won’t be having sex up here. At least not this time around.’

‘Will you give it a rest for just a few minutes,’ I grumble.

‘It’s you. You bring out the horny beast in me. Every time I see you all I want to do is fuck you senseless.’

‘What if the tiles break?’ I ask worriedly.

‘It’s perfectly safe. Watch,’ he says and jumps about, making a horrible rattling noise.

‘Whoa, are you crazy?’ I whisper urgently.

‘Good quality tiles can last at least a hundred years. These tiles are only fifteen years old.’ He stomps his feet in a tight circle. ‘See.’

‘OK, OK,’ I concede quickly. ‘Just … please … don’t do that anymore.’

Flushing all over with a strange excitement, I put my hand into his. I’m not sure whether it’s because I could easily end up an unrecognizable splat on a London sidewalk, or because I’m with Cash finding out something about him which is not on ILoveCash.com.

Effortlessly, he hauls me up and suddenly I am on the roof and so close to his body I feel the heat coming off it. The night is colder than I thought.

‘I gotcha,’ he whispers, his breath hot and damp against my cheek.

I grip his hand nervously as he leads me a couple of steps up towards the chimney. The edges almost make for a seat and we sit side by side, our bodies touching. The tiles are rough and cold under my butt. From the corner of my eyes I can see just how far away the ground is. From up here the pavement looks very hard.

I turn my head and he holds out a flat silver box with the cover open. Inside are hand-rolled cigarettes. ‘It’s good weed,’ he says.

‘I don’t smoke.’

I watch him extract a joint and, cupping his hands around it, light it with a cigarette lighter. He draws deeply making the tip burn orangey red. Then he throws his head back and exhales the smoke. I watch the pleasure it gives him. He takes another draw and turns his head to look at me. Embarrassed to be caught watching him so intently, I let my eyes slide away to the night sky, full of stars and a nearly full moon.

‘It’s beautiful here,’ I say softly.

‘Yeah, I used to come up here all the time when I was a kid.’

I turn to look at him. He is staring at a far away dot in the horizon. He looks nothing like the playboy celebrity.

‘Yeah?’

‘Uh huh. My balls dropped early so I used to come here with my smokes and a dirty magazine to lie here, look up at the stars and dream of becoming rich and famous.’

‘And now you’re rich and famous.’

An odd expression crosses his face. ‘Yeah. Now I’m rich and famous.’

‘What’s wrong?’

He shakes his head. ‘The grass is always greener on the other side. Maybe it’s not what I thought it was going to be.’