Page 34 of Burning Embers
I shake my head. “No, I’m happy for you to carry on teaching me. We can keep it professional, right?”
“I can.” He pauses and looks back towards Molly’s door, and his voice drops to a husky whisper, “But I can’t say the same for my…you know what?”
I almost snort out the sip of wine through my nose as his eyes dart to his crotch. “Oliver, you’re such a playboy.”
He puts down his wine and reaches for my hand. “Hardly. I’ve been single for the past year.”
I study his expression, but all I see is honesty. “What…not even hook-ups? Oh, my god. Don’t answer that. I didn’t mean to be so rude.”
He’s trying to suppress a laugh. “No, no hook-ups, and isn’t this what people do on a date—get to know each other?”
I nod. “Well yes, but the truth is, if you asked me about my sex life, I know I wouldn’t have been as easy going as you just were.”
He nods. “Duly noted.”
I can’t believe my mouth when I’m around him. I was at least raised with more manners than this. “I am sorry, I just seem to forget myself when I’m around you.”
“No, apology necessary. And I kind of like that you do.” He leans towards me, his hand reaching for my face. My pulse races and then the buzzer sounds, and I let out a squeal, barely managing not to spill my wine all over us.
I clutch my chest. “Jesus, it’s probably the food,” I say, unable to hide my nervous laughter.
He stands. “I’ll go buzz him up.”
I take a moment to inhale and exhale, shaking out my hands. The flat is small but with him here, it seems tiny. Maybe it’s how he makes me feel everything when he’s near me—I have the open space of the gym to keep my wits about me there—but him here, like this, in my space, is both terrifying and exhilarating.
Chapter Twenty-Three
OLLY
I take a moment to collect myself. I don't want to ruin this. If we were out on this date, I would've waited until I was saying goodbye to kiss her. But the pull in such a confined space has my nerve endings heightened.
I hand the delivery guy a couple of notes from my wallet and take the bag from him. "Keep the change. Thanks, man," I say, closing the door quietly and then walking through to the kitchen where Rachel has plates out on the small table, the flowers I gave her in the centre.
"You hungry?" I hold up the bag.
"Starving." She reaches for the handles, her fingers brushing mine, and there's that spark. I never believed a person could give me such a physical response until now.
I drop my hand once she has the handles securely in her hold. She opens the containers and fills both plates. "Come sit," she says, motioning for the chair as she sits opposite.
The air is still charged from the almost-kiss, and I want to punch myself.
"You okay?"
I look up from my plate. "Yeah. I'm sorry I almost kissed you," I say. Dropping my chopsticks, I smack myself on my forehead, leaning on my elbow. "Shit, I didn't mean that, I mean—" I shake my head.
She swallows, licks her lips, and stands. Making up the small distance between us, she crouches down so we’re eye-level. She takes my face between her warm hands, vanilla envelopes me, and then her face inches towards mine.
Her lips mould to mine—it’s slow and soft, different to the one earlier, but also the same, familiar.
I pull her closer, wrapping my hand around the back of her head. Rachel hums in satisfaction, exploring my lips and mouth. When she pulls away, her lips are plump from our impromptu make-out session, and she giggles. I kiss the tip of her nose.
"Well, that was unexpected," I say, stroking her cheek.
"In a good or bad way?" she asks, vulnerability evident in her eyes.
"A very good way. Let's eat before it gets too cold," I say.
She gets up and walks back over to her chair, and I don't know if us kissing like that was a good idea because my appetite is no longer for food.
