Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I press the balls of my feet onto cool hardwood and rise. I find my boxers and jeans and try not to curse when my belt buckle jangles.
“Charlie?”
There’s a rustle of cotton sheets as Ben sits up, tousled and sleepy, disoriented and uncertain.
“I should go,” I say quietly, caught.
I can’t even sneak out properly.
Ben frowns and rubs his eyes before reaching out a hand to me. “Don’t go. You can stay.”
So tempting. I hesitate. So damn tempting. He’s glorious in the moonlight. “I…I’ve got work.”
The lie feels terrible on my tongue.
“In the middle of the night? Please stay,” he entreats, shifting amid the soft nest of the blankets. “I hope I didn’t say or do anything that upset you—”
“Oh no. Far from it. I’ve had the best time.”
“Then?” he tries. He rubs his eyes again.
“Then…” What can I say that doesn’t sound lame? That there’s ghosts in my past, that things I once did came with a cost more than the pills I have to take each day to help me cope with daily living. To help me get out of bed each day. To help me not fall apart.
Lovely people and things aren’t meant for me—at least not now. Maybe when I’m thirty. Forty, even. Or even next year. That would be the mature thing to do, right? But if I say that, he’ll think I’m even more weird than I am for trying to sneak out like a cad. Like he meant nothing, which is far from the truth.
I want to blurt out how much I like him already. Even if that’s too much to say. Or tell him how much I’d like to repeat last night. And all of yesterday, if I’m honest. Even all the way back to that first time we met in the café—where I don’t call him a wanker right off the bat.
“Come to bed, Charlie,” he says, his voice husky with sleep. “Please. There’s a snowstorm out there and it’ll be a nightmare getting anywhere at this hour.”
All very true. All very reasonable.
With a breath and a stab of fear, I relent and crawl back into bed, drawing Ben close in my arms. He wriggles against me, arranging pillows and blankets to cocoon together. And it feels amazing just to lie here together, skin to skin, in the blissful warmth of this new thing between us that’s happened over one intense day. His smile is visible even in the low light and my breath catches. He’s gorgeous. Curling up together right now is only going to make things harder when I have to go tomorrow, but he looks so damned happy. What’s it like to feel that way? I settle against the pillows, his head tucked against me, and we drowse. Sublime.
Curled close, I sleep again.
Chapter Eleven
The soft sky overhead shows the first brightening of day, gray snow clouds lingering as I leave Ben’s, crunching through ankle-deep snow. If this keeps up, London will be glaciated. Which might not be a bad thing, if nature reclaims the place and saves me from myself. Because last night was a major slip. It wasn’t even a Friday night, which is when I go out, and I felt way too much. So many fantastic things.
Yes, I’m escaping like a thief into the—well, not quite night. Pre-dawn, maybe. And yes, I’m an arse, after he brought me back to bed a couple of hours ago.
How inconvenient. And tempting.
And, most of all, confusing. That was the most fantastic twenty-four hours of sex that I’ve had in my life. But Ben doesn’t fit into my plan of what I need to do, no matter how much I want him.
To be honest, I’m disappointed too. There’s some kind of lump in my throat and a murky feeling in the pit of my stomach. Feelings are for other people. Not me. I have to think of my little girl and her mum and what they need.
Even so, when I glance back over my shoulder, it’s so tempting to turn around and go back to him. Go back to the most fun I’ve had. But there’s too much to do. I can’t get distracted.
While he was mostly asleep, I slid out of bed a second time, saying I had to go to work, and left very quickly before he woke up for real and we had to have a conversation about trading numbers or worse, making future plans. I didn’t tell Ben that I’m not actually scheduled to work today, but I’m not going to let something silly like the usual café scheduling stop me. And besides, going to Richmond for lunch with my parents is definitely work. And really, I’ve got no end of things to do, like those essays I was given the extension for. I just pray he doesn’t come looking for me today.
As I grapple with the sinking feeling in my gut, I text Emily.
Might have done something I shouldn’t.
My phone pings a minute later with Emily’s response. She should be asleep, but probably Carys has her up early too.Are you high?Or in jail?x
Neither.
