Page 70 of The Next Chapter

The kiss turns feral and it’s because of me. I’m clawing at him. Pulling at his T-shirt. I just need to forget.

‘Lily, I…’

No. No. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I don’t want to have to think about talking. ‘Six weeks,’ I say. I don’t know why I’m saying it. I’m unravelling. ‘I’m leaving in six weeks. And you… Italy… So… just… this… once…’

Six weeks stretches out before us like forever. I’ve never had a fling. I’ve never wanted one before. But the Isle of Skye operates on a different plane to everywhere else. Here, I just want my brain to shut up and for Noah to kiss me. No, it’s not a want, it’s a need.

I can feel Noah’s heart beating hard under the flat of my palm under his shirt.

‘Once?’ He pauses before he answers me. He’s stopped kissing me and that will not do.

I nod. ‘That’s all.’

It’s the truth. Noah and me, we would never work. I can list the reasons we wouldn’t work.

He loves to travel and most days, I have to psych myself up to leave the house.

He’s leaving in six weeks.

I’m leaving in six weeks.

I’m lying to him about Lola. About Seb. About who I am.

I’ve told him more than once that I love adventure when the reality is that I get excited when my favourite toothpaste is on special offer.

No, all this thinking is bad, we don’t want thinking.

Noah pauses for another moment, his eyes meeting mine. ‘Okay, then.’ He’s kissing me again and it’s escalating. My hand is moving again under his shirt, his body hot beneath my palm.

I’m lost to it as I climb onto his lap and wriggle out of the straps of my maxi dress. I’m not myself. I’m fevered and frenzied and I’m going to die if he stops trailing his mouth along my collarbone.

‘Please,’ I say, pressing his mouth against my chest. I don’t even know what I’m asking for. Except my brain is quiet and I don’t want this to stop.

I don’t want it to stop when Noah stands up, taking me with him.

His shirt is open, and my dress is bunched around my waist.

‘Bedroom?’ he asks, stumbling around the coffee table.

‘Yes, definitely.’ See, there are some benefits to having short legs, it makes you easy to carry.

Noah gently drops me on the bed and I reach for him when he stays standing by the side of it.

‘Do you have a—?’ he asks and my mind is so off that it takes me a second to realize that he means a condom.

No. No, I don’t have a condom. It wasn’t on my list. How have I brought a lavender diffuser and no condoms?

‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a second.’

Noah darts from the cottage and I just lay there, a picture of debauchery.

He’s back, with a small black wash bag.

‘Come here, please,’ I half beg him.

Finally, he lowers himself on top of me, his body pushing me into the bed, the solid weight of him perfect.

We’re moving as one and for once, everything in my head is still.