Happy Hour (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 28

We've wandered outside after dinner. It's still so mild and I think we both feel the need to cool down a bit. Chris links his warm hand through mine. "What are you thinking about?" he asks tentatively. 

Over dinner we stuck to safe topics. Food. TV programmes. Music. Not feelings. Emotions were far too big a subject for the small intimate hotel restaurant.

I inhale deeply. "I'm thinking I wish I could stay here forever. Just caught in this . . . bubble, I guess." I laugh, embarrassed. "I don't even know if that makes sense."

"It does." He smiles down at me and I feel myself melting under that honey-toned gaze. I've never met anyone else who looks at me like this - and I don't want to. I want Chris. All the time. I'm consumed with him. 

I don't really understand how fate managed to bring him back into my life so many years after he vanished from it, but I don't want him to leave again. This afternoon, in the room, I don't think I've ever felt closer to a person. It's like things have shifted between us again, and each time we let each other in a little bit more. And I am still getting to know him but I can't deny my feelings . . . Because I'm definitely falling hard. And I am almost certain he feels the same.

I could voice all that. But I'm scared to lay all my cards on the table, when I've never taken that risk with anyone before. And it's only been three days. 

It's actually been more than fifteen years, my brain reminds me. I ignore it. I think it's probably teenage Em popping up again. 

Plus it's not like he's saying it to me. Although, to be fair, he's the one who put himself out there in the first place, who told me he liked me first, who asked me out. Maybe it's my turn. But it's too big a step right now.

When we head back to the room the sun is finally beginning its descent. "I'm just going to change," I say, heading into the bathroom. 

"And I'm going to open this prosecco that came with the room." His voice drifts in through the door. I hear the cork pop a moment later.

I take my time, trying to calm myself again. All I have to change into is an oversized t-shirt. I've never really been a sexy person and my underwear is more functional than beautiful. I mean, don't get me wrong, there's a lot to be said for beautiful underwear but I don't own much in the way of it. Most of the time I don't even bother wearing a bra. Which admittedly was very helpful earlier. 

I could leave my contacts in but my eyes are tired and feeling a bit gritty . . . Plus he knows I have glasses and seems to like them so I decide I might as well switch. I leave my make-up on for now though. We're not quite at that stage of intimacy yet!

He is standing at the window when I emerge, staring out at the view. He's removed his shirt and shoes, his smart trousers hanging low on his slim hips and I pause again to admire his body. I can tell he's kept up the swimming, possibly thrown some other type of sport into the mix too, as he is in great shape.

He turns and smiles, hands me a glass of prosecco. We clink our flutes together and drink, maintaining eye contact the whole time. I feel like my whole body is humming with energy. 

He says finally "Probably a good thing I didn't see you in glasses before now. I'd have found you even cuter, I think."

I wrinkle my nose, causing the frames to slide down slightly. "I don't know about that, the ones I had when I was a teenager really didn't suit me."

"Ha, I was already obsessed with you back then so I really don't think that would have even bothered me," he says lightly.

That simple admission breaks me a little.

He steps forward and carefully pushes my glasses back up for me, his lips curling, pale eyes glittering. He takes another sip of fizz and barely has even swallowed it before he rests his palm on my cheek and bends to kiss me again. Our lips are both cold from the prosecco and when he slips his tongue into my mouth it sends a mild electric shock down between my legs. I gasp.

He's removed the wine flute from my hand, barely before I've noticed, setting it down with his own next to the TV. He slides a hand up my leg and touches the side of my knickers. 

"These," he hisses in my ear, "will need to come off." I feel my traitorous nipples harden once again as I fumble to slip my pants off.

He backs me over to the bed, nudging my legs apart with one of his own as he props me up on the edge of it."Lean back on your elbows," he whispers, sinking to his knees in front of me. "I want you to watch." He places one of my legs over his shoulder, pressing gentle kisses along the inside of my thigh, staring straight into my eyes. "I want you to see me."

"Jesus Christ, you're so hot," I sigh as he moves his mouth closer. Once again I already know I'm soaking. I'm feeling very exposed and I couldn't care less.

"Thanks," he laughs throatily. "But I'm not Jesus." With a wicked grin, he then drives his lips and tongue directly onto my clit.

Holy shit.