He smirks at me. ‘Spend the day with me tomorrow.’
Pardon? I thought this was just sex? Maybe he wants to spend all day in bed with me. Christ, after tonight, I need a week to recover - maybe longer. I am, quite literally, fucked.
‘I have things planned.’ I say warily. I’m being sensible here. I need to keep it casual, or maybe not see him again at all. He’s the epitome of bad boy, if slightly older. He’s hazardous, enigmatic and completely addictive. I know all of this, but I fear I might be hooked.
‘What things?’ he asks on a slight pout.
I don’t actually have things planned. I have one thing planned – to sort my room out. It’s a shocker, but I’m restricted on space and overrun with personal effects. I should probably start looking for alternative arrangements, but I’m having such fun with Kate.
‘I need to sort my stuff out.’ I clamp my hands down when I feel him try to move his thumbs again.
‘What stuff?’ He looks confused.
‘Kate’s place is temporary accommodation. I’ve been there for four weeks, everything is everywhere. I need to sort it out for when I get my own place.’
‘Where were you four weeks ago?’
‘With Matt.’
He recoils. ‘Who the fuck is Matt?’
‘Calm down. He’s my ex-boyfriend.’
‘Ex?’
‘Yes, Ex.’ I confirm, seeing a wave of relief travel across his face. What’s the matter with him? ‘Jesse, I need to get my car.’ I press. I can’t leave Kate to drive Margo all the way to Yorkshire. She rattles and shakes all over the place; Kate will have piles by the time she gets there. She has to secure her cakes in boxes with polystyrene and straps, and reduce her speed to five miles an hour over speed humps.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll take you to get it in the morning.’
Oh, so I’m staying then? ‘She’s leaving at eight-ish.’ He might not be so keen if I’m dragging him out of bed at the crack of dawn on a Saturday.
‘-ish.’ he mouths on a smirk. I mirror his smirk, gripping his hands and moving them up to my waist before I reach up to my head, feeling for the grips keeping my hair in place. They’re giving me a headache. I start pulling at them, and he looks up at me with narrowed eyes.
I pause. ‘What?’
‘You refuse to spend the day with me, and then thrust those fabulous boobs in my face. That’s not playing fair, Ava.’ He reaches up and flicks a nipple, causing it to immediately pucker into a tight bud.
I yelp, grabbing my breast. ‘Hey! I need to take my grips out. They’re digging into my head.’ I remove a grip and pop it in my mouth.
He watches me with interest, then leans up, takes the grip with his teeth and spits it out on the bed. His face plummets, nestling between my boobs. I smile to myself and smooth my hands through his damp hair, ignoring the voice in my head telling me not to get too contented. He breathes in deeply before pulling back and planting a soft kiss on each nipple. I’m turned around in his lap.
‘Let me.’ He raises his knees so I’m cradled between them, my forearms resting on his knee caps.
He begins running his fingers through my hair to locate the grips, pulling them out and handing them over my shoulder for me to take.
‘How many have you got in here?’ he asks as he massages my scalp and finds another stray grip.
‘A few,’ I take the grip. ‘I have a lot of hair to keep up.’
‘A few hundred?’ he asks doubtfully. ‘You’re like a voodoo doll. There, I think I got them all.’ He takes the grips from my hand and puts them on the bedside table before sliding his hands over my shoulders and pulling me back so I’m against his chest, the outside of my bent legs resting against the insides of his.
He’s so comfortable, and my eyes are incredibly heavy. I’ve had a stupidly busy day, and I’ve just finished it off on a marathon of sex with this captivating man that I’m propped up against. Maybe I should go now. It will eradicate the risk of the morning awkwardness that’s guaranteed to descend on us come dawn. But then I feel him wrap his forearms around my upper chest and my head automatically rolls back against his shoulder. I’m so comfortable and so sleepy, I‘m not going anywhere. With him breathing steadily in my ear and planting random kisses every now and then in my hair, it’s not long before I’m hypnotised by the sound of his steady breaths and my eyelids are heavy. I reach down and start stroking the outside of his legs.
‘How old are you?’ I mumble, feeling myself drifting off.
His chest jolts a little, indicating his quiet laugh. ‘Twenty three.’