“I don’t either,” she said. “I blame the wine.”
“I never drink this quickly. I think you make me nervous.” He spoke as he looked her directly in the eye, and at that moment it was as if there was no-one else in the room but them, and the energy that crackled between them - the fireworks that were building, that she needed to feel explode before too long. One good kiss just wasn’t enough.
“You make me forget to think through what I’m saying - although perhaps I’ve never been great at keeping my foot out of my mouth.”
He reached out, his warm hand against her cheek, his thumb grazing her lips, and she closed her eyes for a moment to simply feel the sensations that were flooding through her.
It was a heady feeling that took her breath away, and when he pressed his lips against hers for the third time that week, hers responded immediately. He, at least, seemed aware of their location, and pulled away gently before she quite reached his short dark hair that she was desperate to bury her fingers in.
He didn’t take his hand away from her cheek for a few moments, and she felt her head spin.
“I need to eat,” she finally said. “Sorry, it’s not subtle, but I’ve not eaten since breakfast and that wine has gone straight to my head.”
“And here I was thinking it was an amazing kiss making your head spin,” Cas said with a smile as he motioned to the barman and signalled for two menus.
“Oh, I think that has a lot to do with it,” she said, and his grin grew broader. “Don’t go getting arrogant though.”
“Oh, this is not one sided, Beth. Kissing you is a whole other experience…”
“You feel the fireworks too?” She couldn’t believe the words were really coming out of her mouth - was she really asking this fine figure in front of her for confirmation that the kiss had been incredible? Blame the wine, blame the kiss - she needed to know.
“Catherine wheels, rockets, Roman candles - you name them, they’re there when we kiss.”
She glanced at the menu, choosing fish and chips because it was the first thing she saw, then looked straight back at him. “You are a mysterious man, you know that?”
“Not with you, I just blurt everything out.”
“You’re grumpy one minute, charming the next, brutally honest and then I feel there’s things about you I know absolutely nothing about. A complete enigma.”
“Makes it more exciting doesn’t it?”
Beth closed one eye and regarded him. “Maybe. One more question: how the hell do you get home from the beach?”
Chapter 17
“I run. I run there, swim for an hour, and run back.”
“Every night?” She was a little incredulous.
“Every night that I’m here, yeah.”
“That’s dedication. Why?”
“Why not?”
“I can think of lots of reasons,” Beth said, reaching for cutlery as their two fish and chips were delivered to the bar. “Sleep, watching television, eating chocolate…”
“I can still do all those things,” he said, tucking in. “Kissing pretty girls in the ocean - it’s not all bad.”
“I’m going to hope I’m the first person you’ve nearly scared to death out there and then ended up making a move on.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said, a glint in his eye that made Beth laugh.
“Seriously though, why?”
“I don’t really talk about it,” he said, filling his mouth with chips in a bid to avoid talking.
“But you just said you end up telling me things without even thinking about it.”
“Very true. Are you sure you want to know? It’s not exactly first-date material.”
“We spent ten minutes talking about how explosive our kiss was. I’m not sure we need to worry about the traditional rules of a date.” Inside there was definitely part of her - a part that she was a little embarrassed by - that was excited by the fact that he considered it a proper date.
“Okay. Well, I had a cancer scare, about five years ago. I was a little overweight, ate rubbish, didn’t exercise and thought I was a gonner. Decided then and there to make a massive change, and the exercise is what lets me still eat the chocolate, and the fish and chips, every now and again.”
Beth digested that for a moment. “I certainly get the need to make a change, but I’m not sure I’d have that dedication.”
“It’s a routine. Once you’re into it, it stops being effort after a while. And swimming in the ocean at night has got a certain charm, don’t you think?”
“Definitely. It’s wonderfully free, I’ll give you that. And then, of course, it depends who you meet when you decide to go for a reckless, spontaneous swim.”
“Well, I’m just learning of those benefits.”
***
Dinner made Beth’s head feel slightly less woozy, and as the conversation flowed easily - with the help of another glass of wine - she felt like she at least had an image of who Caspian really was. The time seemed to disappear, and before they knew it the inn was closing and they were forced out into the rain, taking shelter in the doorway as they said their goodbyes.
“Maybe we could do this again, a little less spontaneously,” Beth said, the wine making her brave, the proximity to Caspian making her reckless.
“I’m away all week,” he said, “Up in London for work. How about next Sunday evening?”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Beth said. “Although you can’t keep me up too late, it is a work night, after all.”
“You make me sound like a very corrupting influence,” Caspian said.
“I think you might be.”
He didn’t need to hear that twice. The doorway was dark and small and he moved closer to Beth so that her back was against the red brick wall. His hands settled on either side of his head, fingers in her hair, and his lips just millimetres away from her mouth, as he murmured, “I think you might be the one corrupting me.”
There were no more words, then, and no soft kisses; this was pure passion, as tongues met and stubble grazed against cheek, fireworks exploded that threatened to make Beth forget every sensible thing she had ever thought. His body was solid against hers, the wall cold against her back, and she felt like that pressure was the only thing keeping her upright. That and her arms that were wrapped around his neck, with her fingers exploring the hair at the nape it. His legs, his chest, everything he had was pressed against her petite body, making the air leave her lungs and the wine and passion swirl through her head like a mist.
And then they pulled away, hearing a car drive past, and he rested his forehead against hers as their breath mingled, equally ragged.
“Fireworks,” she whispered, and he laughed.
“Fireworks.”
“I’ll walk you home,” he offered, once words were at his command again, and she smiled and accepted the offer, despite the rain and the short distance, knowing that spending more time with him was something she definitely wanted.
“How are you getting home?” she asked, as they strolled together, her arm brushing his, her steps in time with his.
“I drove in… but I think you made me forget that, and I’ve had too many beers to drive it back. I guess I’ll run.”
“Run? But it’s gone eleven, Caspian, and it’s raining.”
“Taxis aren’t very common round here, although I guess I could give it a go.”
They reached her doorstep, and she toyed with an idea that could ruin everything. And then she just blurted it out.
“You can stay the night here, if you want. On the sofa,” she said hurriedly, not wanting him to get an impression of her that would put him off, or make him think she was easy - although the image of him in her bed, that torso beneath her sheets, was certainly one she would happily ruminate on later.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said, pausing in the doorway to the fish and chip shop. “You live in a chip shop?”
“Above it, idiot,” she said with a laugh.
“And I want to; I’ll worry about you running home, and you’re right, taxis are like gold dust round here. I’m sure the sofa’s very comfortable, although I’ve never tested it.”
He smiled; “Okay then. Lead the way.”
***
Beth went through the complicated process of opening the shop door, resetting their alarm and then unlocking her own front door - something which had apparently put off people who were previously interested, but didn’t bother Beth. She remembered, at the last minute, the mess in which she had left her flat, and she hoped she had confined it all to her bedroom where she could close the door and pretend she wasn’t a chaotic person.
As they slipped through the door, she quickly closed her bedroom door and glanced around the living room, feeling like it was an acceptable level of tidy for a drunken sleepover.
“Do want another drink?” Beth asked, suddenly feeling a little shy.
“Well, since I’m not driving, thanks.”
“I’ve only got wine.”
“That’ll do!” He wandered over to the window and glanced out at the dark vista, where lights on the other side of the water could just be seen through the drizzle and mist. “I thought it was a bit weird, living above a chip shop without your own entrance,” he said.
“Charming,” Beth muttered under her breath, none too quietly.
“But I can see why now. This view, it’s fantastic!”
“Well, you can see why I fell for it - it’s even better in daylight.” She passed him a large glass of white wine.
“I bet it is.”
They sat down together on the sofa, a little space between them, and for a few moments no words were spoken.
“I had a great evening,” Beth said, with a slightly shy smile playing on her lips, when the silence got too much for her.
“So did I.”
They fell into chatting about their jobs, and after downing the dregs of her wine she admitted to him that in her spare time, she’d started a novel.
“Wow. How’s it going?”
“Really good, actually. I’ve never done anything like this before, but the words just seem to flow when I sit down with a pen and paper so I thought, while they’re coming, I might as well write them down!”
“You should definitely carry on with it. So many people talk about writing a novel, but few people actually manage to do it.”
She smiled, pleased he hadn’t just laughed her comment off or made fun of it. Stifling a yawn, she glanced at the clock, and was shocked to see it was already one in the morning.
“I think I should do to bed,” she said, “Because if I have any more wine I may just pass out right here.”
He finished his glass. “Probably a sensible suggestion. Thank you, again, for the sofa; I actually, for once, did not feel like running.”
“Let me go and find you a blanket and a pillow.” She disappeared off into her bedroom, which was every bit as messy as she’d remembered it being, and took a moment to heap all the clothes she had tried on and then discarded everywhere onto a chair in the corner of the room, rather than on her bed or the floor. She rummaged in a drawer to find a blanket, and then took two pillows from her own bed, as she knew she didn’t have any spare. Having lived alone in a one-bedroom flat for a long time meant she didn’t exactly plan for overnight visitors.
When she came back out, he had washed up the glasses, and was using a blue stripy tea-towel to dry and polish them.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“Least I could do,” he said, as she lay the pillow and blanket down on the sofa.
“I’ll see you in the morning then?” he said, walking towards her, drying his hands on his jeans.
“Don’t disappear before I wake up,” she said, taking a step forward herself and feeling the warmth of his breath in the air in front of her.
“I’m not Cinderella.”
“Goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight.” He leant forward as she had hoped he would, and she stood on tiptoes to reach him faster. Just like before, when their lips met sparks flew, and Beth tangled her fingers in that short dark hair like she had imagined, and let him kiss her until her head felt dizzy and her legs felt weak.
It was she who broke it off this time, placing a hand against his chest and feeling his heart hammering beneath it, just as she was sure hers was. “If we carry on like that, I’ll never make it into that bedroom,” she said, with a sad smile, knowing how close she was to breaking her no-sex on the first date rule.
“Is it awful if that just makes me want to kiss you more?”
She shook her head. “No, but I’m drunk, and you’re drunk, and as a rule I don’t have men stay over on a first date.”
“So I’m the exception.”
“You are most definitely an exception,” she said, pressing her lips to his once more and then disentangling herself from him. “But I don’t think I should sleep with you when we’re both drunk.” She couldn’t say the words in her head, even now, even when she felt the room spinning; that this felt so explosive, she wanted to do it properly. If - and she had no idea if this would be the case - if this was going to be more than just going out one night, or making out in the middle of the sea, she wanted to remember ever minute. Not fall into bed drunk with him because he made her feel so deliciously on fire…
“Goodnight, Beth.”
“Goodnight, Caspian,” she said, and she walked away, feeling like closing that bedroom door was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
***
Despite the wine and the pent up energy, Beth found she did sleep well that night, although her dreams took on a life of their own, playing out scenes that she had closed the door on the night before. When she woke at seven the next morning, hot and bothered and her mouth dry with thirst, it took her a moment or two to remember why her room was in such a state, and that there was well over six foot of gorgeous man asleep on her sofa, on the other side of that white wooden door.
Slipping on a nightie - since she’d apparently gone to sleep in her underwear - she quietly opened the door and headed to the kitchen. She paused at the sofa, checking to make sure he really was still there, and couldn’t help but linger when she realised he was sleeping in just his boxers, and had thrown the blanket off. It was his legs that got her; long, tanned and muscled, curled up on her small white sofa, covered in a fine layer of dark hair.
She tore her eyes away, knowing she shouldn’t stare at him when he was asleep, then padded to the kitchen and tried to be as quiet as she could getting a glass of water. Next stop was the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth and looked horrified at the state of her appearance in the mirror, make-up smudged where she had not bothered to remove it the night before. The shower, she thought, would be too loud at this time in the morning when Caspian still looked so peacefully asleep, so she made do with giving her face a good scrub and moisturise, until she at least felt a little more human. Then a brush of her hair, and she looked as though she would like to look when she had just woken up in the morning - fresh as a daisy.
It was an illusion, but one she wasn’t planning to break with the handsome man that she had not even slept with yet.
When she re-entered the living room, Caspian was sat up, the blanket over his lap, still topless and watching her walk back in.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“I struggle to sleep past seven, even when I’m in my own bed.”
She put the kettle on, wanting a cup of tea to get her morning started. “Was the sofa all right?”
“Slept like a baby,” he answered, stretching out his arms. “And surprisingly not too hungover this morning.”
“I’m shattered, but no, not too bad either. Tea?”
“Coffee, please, if you’ve got it.”
She rummaged in the cupboard for the emergency stash she kept for if Lee came round, and set to making them both hot drinks, pleased she had bought milk and bread the day before so she could at
least offer something for breakfast. Now she was working regularly, paying the rent and food bills wasn’t so much of a stress - but it didn’t mean she was always the most organised when it came to filling the fridge.
She had just finished pouring the boiling water when she felt a hand on the small of her back, and when she turned he was there, making her crane her neck a little to look right into his eyes.
“I don’t think I can wait until next Sunday to kiss you again,” he said, and inside her she felt a fluttering of nerves and excitement at the gorgeous, sexy words spilling from his mouth.
The South West Series Box Set Page 45
