“Stop that.”
“Fine.” He sighed. After somehow peeling himself away from me, he closed his eyes and fell back against the wall outside his apartment with a thud, his bare skin landing against the harsh white stone. “Ouch. Jesus.” His Adam's apple sank and rose again, his lips parting as he sucked in more air. “That’s gonna hurt in the morning.”
“Let’s deal with the here and now first. Your key card?”
“Just get it out of my pocket, Phoebe. Soon.”
“I… right. Okay.” I blew out all the air from my cheeks, looking down at his swim shorts as I tried to navigate how best to do this without touching anything, despite the fact every part of my body wanted to touch everything.
Henry’s eyes were still closed, his chin raised to the sky as I stepped into his space and began fumbling around the back of his shorts, turning my face away and using my touch to guide me until I found a zipped back pocket that sat just at the top of his tight arse cheek. Everything about him overwhelmed me: the smell of him, the feel of him, the mental imagery of what lay beneath these shorts, and I fumbled around like an idiot, aware he probably thought I was a complete amateur at this… whatever the hell this was.
For reasons I couldn’t understand, I imagined Rob standing behind us, watching me trying to act casual around someone I’d had bad thoughts about, and his voice suddenly took over everything.
You’re getting a key out of his pocket, Phoebe, not sucking him off. You’re such a child.
A virgin could find their way around a man’s body quicker than you do.
Every bit of heat in my body bled out of me in a matter of seconds, the ghost of that arsehole ruining more moments of my life than I thought I’d ever truly admitted.
Working on auto, I swiftly removed the key from Henry’s pocket, gripped it tightly, then took several steps back before holding it up to him in waiting.
It didn’t take long for him to lower his chin and open his eyes, and he looked at me like he could see into every dark and embarrassed part of my world I’d ever tried to hide.
“You’ve gone pale.”
“Just take the key, Henry.”
He pushed off the wall with little to no grace and took the key from my grip, his eyes not leaving mine until the silence suffocated the both of us. I glanced away, looking towards the door, and Henry took the hint, fumbling around with the key over the lock until eventually, the light turned green, and he pushed the door open with far too much force to reveal his room.
I stayed outside, thinking my duties were now complete, but then he turned to me, looking up through cautious eyes. “I’m not in bed yet.”
“And?”
“You told Rhea you’d make sure I got there.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, do you?”
He shrugged, and right on cue, he swayed to the side again, proving that he was, in fact, completely wrecked.
“I’m too good of a person for this.” With a roll of my eyes, I resumed position under his arm and guided him inside to an insanely clean, neat apartment. Every surface was bright white and empty, not a scrap of holiday junk left out on the side.
We stepped into the living room area first, which had a small kitchenette in it, just like ours, only Henry’s apartment was twice the size, if not bigger.
And he had it all to himself.
“I knew I was right to have my suspicions about you,” I told him. “Only a psycho keeps their apartment this clean when they’re on holiday.”
Henry glanced down at me, a smirk to die for tugging his lips upwards. “You think I’m a psycho?”
“Without a doubt.”
“So much you don’t know about me, Captain.”
“That namehasto go.”
“I’ll drop it once you take me to my bedroom, but only because I’m the one in charge in there.”
I had to push the thoughts of that statement far, far away.
