Page 90 of Kiss Me Like You Mean It

Still, whether we want them or not we seem to have a town-wide network of not-at-all covert spies who will know where the lawyer is at all times. This fact is underlined by Rita recording a voice note the moment Charles leaves the ice cream parlour.

‘The crumpet has left the nest,’ she hisses into her phone. ‘Repeat, the crumpet is on the move!’

There is zero chance we’re pulling this off.

I look at Lee, my pretend wife, who I really kissed only a few minutes ago. My best friend’s sister, and the woman who is driving me out of my mind. The woman I’ll be sharing a bed with tonight.

Yup. We’re doomed.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Lee

The next morning I wake up in a state of bliss. Which is to say, I wake up in Nico’s arms.

Last night, after a long and very fun dinner with Phoebe and Tara (and yes, Luke, who arrived holding her hand and looking at her like she was made of diamonds), the pair of us had been extremely polite and formal about our sleeping arrangements.

After we’d both used the bathroom – where we changed into our pyjamas – I politely offered him his choice of side of the bed, he politely demurred to me, and this went on for a while before we slipped quietly under the sheets, both clinging to our separate edges of the mattress, a wide gulf of bed linen between us.

Then Nico turned out the light and I lay there for ages obsessing over the fact that he was in bed with me, and I could hear him breathing, when only a few hours earlier he had kissed me. Actually kissed me. Not that either of us had mentioned it.

We’d certainly showed Charles, though. And that was the whole point.

Right?

Eventually, I must have fallen asleep because I wake up, and even though the room is in gloomy darkness, it feels like a morning kind of gloom. I’m not lying at the edge of the bed anymore, I’m right in the middle of it, and I’m wound around Nico like an invasive plant species.

My head is tucked under his jaw, my cheek resting on his chest, one arm flung over his torso as he lies on his back. One of my legs is thrown over his, so I’m basically straddling his thigh. His hand, large and warm, cups my backside.

I don’t move. I hardly dare to breathe. I have no idea if Nico is still asleep or not. When his chest continues to rise and fall in a steady rhythm, I relax a bit, let myself enjoy this, the feeling of being held by him. Unfortunately, the hand he has on my ass is extremely distracting, and when I move, he makes a sleepy sound, pulling me even closer. The pressure of his thigh between my legs increases and I swallow a gasp.

Nico’s fingers flex, digging into my flesh, and he mutters again. He rolls over, taking me with him, and now his front is plastered to my back, his heavy arm pinning me to the mattress as he spoons me. At this point it becomes very apparent that I am not the only one at the mercy of their hormones, because the long, hard length of him is pressed against me, so close to where I want him, that this time, when his hips move, rocking against me, I do make a sound – a sort of pained whimper.

There’s a brief, charged silence, and his breath catches. Is he awake?

He makes the same movement again, the same lazy thrust, and I keep my eyes tightly closed. I’m pretty sure he’s awake, but right now both of us have plausible deniability, and I have no intention of putting a stop to things. Instead, I grind lightly against him, and he’s the one who makes a noise, a slow hiss of air between his teeth.

When his arm shifts, his hand coming to rest, flat against my abdomen, I wonder just how far we can take this, lying here in the quiet and the dark. He nuzzles at my neck and I stretch, lean back, giving him better access. His lips trail a gentle line along my nape, his teeth scraping against the tender skin there. His hand slips down, lower, lower, his index finger dips beneath the waistband of my pyjamas…

A sudden banging on the door has us springing apart.

‘It’s six a.m.!’ Phoebe yells. ‘Rise and shine!’

‘Waaa,’ I make an inelegant noise, levering myself up into a seated position just as the alarm on my phone starts blaring. I smash around on the nightstand until it turns off.

Beside me, Nico sits up, looking as shell-shocked as I feel.

‘Good morning,’ he says, his voice a low rasp in his throat.

‘Early morning.’ My response is bright. Too bright? ‘Remind me who thought it would be a good idea to be up at six a.m. on a Sunday?’

‘That would be you,’ Nico says, scrubbing a hand over his face. ‘You’re the one who wanted to go up to the overlook and catch the sunrise.’

‘Only because you and Phoebe said it was so beautiful,’ I protest.

Nico only grunts. ‘Why don’t you use the bathroom first?’ He shifts his weight, pulling at the sheets, and of course my eyes drop instantly to his crotch.

‘Yup!’ I agree, leaping out of bed while my cheeks flame. I grab the pile of clothes I’d already laid out for this morning. ‘I’ll be quick, don’t worry.’