Page 109 of Tears of Ink

Does he want me to go?

I slip on the stairs, my pulse raising. Connie’s door is open as I fly past, but I don’t even care. I run to the outhouses hoping I’ll find Tabitha.

“I’ve got to go to an urgent meeting,” I shout as I launch into the clay studio. She and Lewis are doing a really shit job at pretending to be busy and not kissing. I haven’t got time for it now. “Elijah’s leant me his car, where is the MG parked?”

She smiles. “He parks at the gatehouse normally. That way he can come and go unaccountable to Gran and Mum.”

I’m about to run for the gates when I have a thought, remembering Connie’s doors opening and knowing she would have seen me coming down the stairs. “Guys, can you do me a favour? Upstairs there are some paintings, in the top room on the top flight of stairs. Can you bring them down? They are imperative for the ball.”

“What are they?” Tabitha asks.

“Dreams,” I shout back, but I’m already running, desperate to find out if my own dream has wings to fly.

The traffic is awful, but the worst of it is coming away from town, not into it. I use my GPS on my phone to guide me through the streets until I find a small mews marked Private. There’s a man in a box, in charge of a barrier, but when he sees the MG, he waves me through. I give him a thank you and then park up.

It’s half-eight, and starting to get dark now summer is halfway through her peak. It’s now I glance down and realise I’m still wearing the cut-off dungarees and vest I wore to the group session. Crap. Too late now. I left Bowsley with nothing.

I walk up to the door numbered twenty-one in brass and give a gentle knock. There’s a chance my insides are going to twist into a knot and I’m going to puke. I manage to hold it together as footsteps land the other side of the door.

When he opens it up, the breath steals from my throat. He looks like something not even made on this earth. Wide blue eyes, hair trimmed short, and built like an Adonis under a soft grey T-shirt and black jeans—barefoot.

Holy crap.

“Take your time why don’t you, Faith?” He leans against the door frame, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“What? I don’t understand?”

As quick as a whip he reaches out and pulls me in. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.” He buries his face in my hair and the skin of my neck, inhaling deeply. “I need you.”

My legs quiver as I slide my hands around his neck and plant my mouth against his. “And I need you.” I need him more than I’ve ever needed anything in my whole damn life and I’m struggling to stay afloat while the unknown emotions threaten to pull me down.

Then we are in his hallway. I don’t even look at his home. All I see is him, holding him as he swoops me up and stalks me to a room upstairs.

I close my eyes and shiver with anticipation as we fall together, fast and hard, burrowing deep until there’s just the two of us and the rest of the world ceases to exist.

I’m face down, hugging the pillow, Eli’s fingers trail along the exposed skin of my spine. His eyes are closed, his face serene and content, and a warm glow evolves inside my chest when I realise it’s me who’s given him that expression.

“Still, I can’t believe it took you four days to find that envelope.”

I’m in shock that this has happened. I was sure it was over between us. I’d resigned myself to it. “You made it seem very real, Eli.”

His lashes flutter open and his deep gaze settles on my face with a heartfelt plea. “It had to be. I won’t have my mother ruin your prospects.”

“Maybe you should let me decide?”

He shakes his head, face serious, lips pressed into a line. “No.”

I sigh and roll over onto my back, facing the ceiling. “Why does this feel like it’s getting messy? I know that’s not what we agreed.”

His fingers turn my chin. “None of this is what I expected.”

“What do you mean?” I still can’t believe I’m here, back in his arms. When I think of that chest crushing ache that’s resided within me the last few days, it’s like I’ve allowed myself to be weak. But, here by his side, the furthest thing I feel is weak. I’m brave. Free.

A deep sigh pushes from his chest. “Nothing is what it should be. Things are clean-cut, simple. I do what I’m told, and I get an easy life for it.”

“I’m sensing a but?” My fingers drift over his warm skin, relishing every touch.

“But nothing is clean-cut with you, and nothing’s easy.”