Authors: Sarah Michelle Lynch
He tossed off my attempts at humour and wrapped his arm around my shoulder again. He kissed my hair and breathed deep. “Let’s stop and watch a minute.”
He gestured at Westminster Abbey as we neared. People drifted around the lit-up building, even though it was getting late. If you stood and listened, it was easy enough to hear some choral concert streaming through the abbey, leaking to surrounding streets, a sense of community enveloping us.
I turned into his chest and asked, “Hold me.”
Amidst swirling pedestrians, lights, traffic and noise, we shrank to just two people, holding one another. I calmed with the sound of his heart beneath my ear, his chin on the crown of my head, his hands cupped around one shoulder each, pulling me protectively into his warmth.
It had been such a long day.
“This was the worst date. Until right now,” he said honestly.
“I agree. I hate that I do, but I do.”
He chuckled in my ear and kissed my cheek. “You’re very cute when you back down.”
I pulled away sharply and slapped his hands off me. Without rhyme or reason, he pulled me back into his arms, so tight I couldn’t escape. His true strength exhibited itself as I was forced to look right into his eyes, his breath a ragged heat caressing my lips. We held our staring match until my legs felt numb, blood pumping frantically between my thighs.
“How strong are you?” I smiled like an idiot girl.
“Strong.” He looked away, a coy grin in his eyes.
“Hmm. You’re shy. Shy of me, aren’t you?” From a close proximity, I decided he was perfect. Too much, maybe.
“I’m not,” he insisted, but he wasn’t looking at me. “I’m waiting until people pass so I can do this—”
I didn’t know what he had in mind but I was shocked when he bent down and anchored one hand beneath my thigh and another in the pit of my knee. I suddenly knew vertigo when he lifted me until I was over his head, his feet shuffling so I could see above the heads of everyone else around us too. My grip on his shoulders was desperate as I was paraded on our self-made dance floor. All I could think was,
Thank god I wore tights and a good pair of knickers too!
He slowly released me when I squealed to have control of my body back and I found myself breathless as I slid down his body so my stocking feet fell exactly on top of his shoes.
“Strong enough? We almost had you in the stars, Chloe,” he gasped, shaking.
I was too dazed to answer.
He slid an arm under my coat and took a firm hold of my waist. His free hand moved up and stroked my brow, his expression one of fascination.
“You didn’t just look up my skirt?”
“Would you hate me if I did?” He cocked a brow, shifting his feet only centimetres, but enough so that I knew he was subtly dancing me around. I was surely roaring drunk or on roofies or dreaming…
I wrapped my arms tight around his neck and allowed my guard to fall, our noses touching as we danced still, neither of us caring who might be near. His large eyes were fixed on mine, full of thick desire and intrigue.
“Why do you do this to me?” I begged, my breath against his lips. “You look at me like this… you kiss me like a man starved… you’re making me want you when you told me you can’t do this.”
“I can’t do this, but I still want to,” he explained. “Feel.”
He took my hand and pressed it tight over his galloping heart. “See?”
His stare and his truth took my breath away. I held on tighter while he shifted us on the spot, his hand still touching my face, the other still holding me tight beneath my coat. We remained nose to nose, eye to eye, almost lip to lip—for an incalculable amount of time.
“Which box am I in right now? Douche? Total douche? Or lost-cause douche?”
“Lost-cause douche,” I admitted, and kissed his face off, before finishing with one, tender kiss on his cheek. I stared him straight in the eye, turned on even more by the shock on his face. Delight, even. “It tends to be that people in my life forget one, vital part of who I am.”
“Hmm? What’s that?” His expression held a mild frown of interest, but his eyes were still locked with mine in lust, desire written in his flushed cheeks.
“I don’t want perfect. I hate it. I used to be perfect. Perfect hair, perfect exam scores, perfect future planned out. I realised one day, there was no point in being perfect. It got me nowhere. It got me no friends or admirers, it got me…” I briefly thought deeply, but simply repeated, “…nowhere.”
“Quite the contradiction?”
“Maybe,” I replied.
We carried on walking through Westminster and stared at all the old, traditional buildings that seemed to be filling Cai’s mind with pictures.
“I love London. I visited Kay a lot over the years and I just love that there’s a place for everyone, you know? Growing up, I always felt like the whole point of working hard was to escape to something better. I felt like I had no place while I was striving for more, for some other world I truly belonged in. Even now,” I gestured at our surroundings, “the streets leave me feeling complete but, I still don’t belong. Do you know what I mean?”
“You can’t absorb a city into your bones in just a few days. It takes months, years. I still don’t know New York as well as I ought to… I know I could live there forever, not spend a single day away, and I still wouldn’t know it entirely. It morphs too often.”
I agreed with him. “There are quirks to every place, always, different nooks of life to explore. So, why don’t I know where I belong? Anywhere? I’m 30 years old, why don’t I know that yet?”
He squeezed my hand as we continued to walk and offered, “Hey, I’m not one to ask. I live out of a suitcase half the year. I thought I’d know the answer to that question eventually but seeing you’re a few years older and none the wiser, what hope is there for me?”
I cackled behind my hand. “We already agreed you’re a lost-cause douche so that was entirely tautological.”
“You’re… stubborn,” he snarled, his nose crinkling.
I pressed my lips together and before we knew it, we were back outside the stucco building that was my bed for the night.
Cai held my hands in his and smiled. “You could sleep in my bed. I wouldn’t touch you, I promise. I’d sleep on the couch or in the bath, anywhere.”
“We know that wouldn’t happen, Cai.” I dipped my head down to avoid his arousing stare. “He’s not in the country, anyway. He’s in Europe and the only visitor I will be receiving here is his maid, Helga. I’m just hoping she doesn’t have a special set of dusters.”
Cai burst out laughing and turned around, nearly walking away, he was so uncontrollably tickled.
“Oh god, Chloe! How do you do this to me?”
He moved in front of me again even though I was poised to enter the building and leave him there. He looked down on me with a sincere expression. One eye narrowed and he asked, “What’s the worst unopened box, and… what does it contain?”
I looked up to search the few available stars for answers and realised my feet no longer hurt, I didn’t feel the cold, or drunk, nor did I sense that awkward disdain I felt for Cai earlier. All I knew was numbness.
I took a big, deep breath and gulped. “It’s the box sealed shut with iron bars, bound by diamond locks. There’s one word on the label… forgiveness.”
He smiled and pinned me in his arms, his face twitching as he struggled with emotion. “You’re not perfect… but you’re you.”
He held my cheeks in his palms and he kissed me desperately hard, fraught laps of his tongue around mine, no rhythm, just raw need. I was half mad on the sensation of his constant erection against my belly.
BUT. It was right to give this more time and not let him in my bed, not yet. It was Wednesday. I’d only known him since Monday.
I pulled away though it took all my willpower to do so. He growled and fell to his knees on the pavement, cursing himself and the pain as he watched—conflicted—while I let myself into the building. He put his head in his hands and that was my lasting image of him that night as I shut the door behind me.
When I got through all the security barriers and numerous keypad locks inside Belgravia’s answer to Fort Knox, finally shutting Klaus’s apartment door behind me, I fell in a heap against the wall and cried.
That guy and me… there was just too much there. I clutched my fist at my chest, already well aware of what was happening between us. One thing had the power to unwrap all those boxes—to sever the tape that had sealed them shut so long.
Love.
THE next morning I left the flat with wet hair, little make-up, a pair of skinny jeans and a roll-neck sweater. The Uggs were also required. I just didn’t care, not that day. When I arrived at the office (on time but slightly the worse for wear) I saw Trev in reception as we were heading for the stairs and he remarked, “Good to see you’re getting a handle on London life.”
I shot him a filthy look and he snickered.
Yet again, at my desk, was one of those stupid roses. This time, a dark-pink shade. Having not yet taken off my bag or coat, I shot daggers at all those around my desk and practically shouted, “Anyone know who this came from? Anyone?”
Some took no notice of me. Others just quickly glanced and shook their heads in a big fat, resounding,
no.
I looked up above me and thought maybe a retractable hand came out of the ceiling to deliver them daily. Hopefully, send me back home and away—a good way to test if the newbie was worth their salt.
Fuck it
: I’d used that strategy before and it had worked. I would use it again.
Sod them all
.
Noticing the absence of Cai and his offer of coffee, I mailed him and got a bounce-back letting me know he was out of the office until further notice. I knew he was freelance, but still. Then a sinking feeling hit—would he ever return to Media Solutions if he didn’t have to? I suspected he might not, if he wanted to avoid me and the depth of what we knew we could have. If only we were two people who could commit.
WITHIN TWO WEEKS, my situation had changed much for the better. I was working fairly independently now that Trev and Ash trusted me enough, and it felt good. I liked to work my own pace, my own routine, otherwise I felt insane. It was certainly all a big change from crossing town in my old Fiesta to brave all elements and ask questions of local people. My new place of work… so much more virtual. I had also gotten myself a new place, a room in a shared house in Wandsworth. It was gold. I didn’t have to answer to anyone, especially Klaus. Memo to self: Do not rely on older, strange magnates who might expect sexual favours in return whenever they roll into town. Only a few days after my date with Cai at the Savoy, Klaus showed up at his own pad in Belgravia, which was a warranted enough act in itself, being his own place and all. However, he gave me one of those looks when he walked into the bathroom unannounced and found me having a soak in the tub. I immediately threw him out and one awkward conversation later, he left and checked into his suite at the Dorchester. I didn’t know myself because Klaus was not bad looking and dealt oral pleasure better than any gadgetry out there. And trust me, I’d tried a lot of weaponry offered by the likes of Pulse and Cocktails and Ann Summers. So, I knew Cai must have ruined me. I didn’t want any free oral pleasure anymore… even though, in fact, I’d always thought it was weird that Klaus gave but never wanted to receive.
So, anyway. The shared house had six occupants. The kitchen and living areas were shared, though I rarely ventured down. I only came home to raid the clothes rail, wash, sleep or charge my devices. I’d known coming to London would be good for me because it didn’t give me time to sit and mull. In my tiny bedroom there were no boxes to organise or shelves to rearrange. I did my laundry at a launderette and kept my OCD to a minimum in front of other people there, folding my clothes but not piling them as carefully as I might once have done.
Over the years, whenever I visited Kayla I’d done a lot of the touristy things, so now I was living in the city I tried to live as a proper Londoner would do. So I was out socialising, every night. Either on my own, or with people from work who were now actually talking to me (I knew it had something to do with Cai not lurking around my person any more, but I told myself I didn’t care to know the reasons).