Page 88 of Under Your Spell

‘Sometimes it’s easier to just keep my distance, so that they don’t have to deal with all the shit around me. I mean look at tonight,’ Theo carries on, sounding sad. ‘She could have had all her friends here – we’ve got the whole hotel booked until Sunday but it’s just us for dinner because she doesn’t want to have all the…’ – here he waves his hand around – ‘fuss that I bring, and I can’t blame her.’

I pick up my pillow and thwack him in the face.

‘Ow!’ comes Theo’s muffled exclamation. ‘What was that for?’

‘Because you’re an idiot,’ I say. ‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that your family just want you to themselves tonight because they rarely get to see you? They’re so happy you’re here, Theo. Your mum and Lisa both told me that. Several times. In between the very light, polite threats to my person if I hurt you.’

The pillow is still over his face. ‘Huh,’ he says finally.

I swallow a smile. ‘Yeah, huh. Idiot.’

He throws the pillow back at me. ‘Stop calling your boyfriend an idiot.’

I still. ‘Did you just call yourself my boyfriend?’

Theo rolls his eyes. ‘Of course I did, Clemmie. Don’t tell me we need to have a talk about it like we’re teenagers.’

‘Um, I do think it’s the sort of thing we should probably have a conversation about. You can’t just decide something like that.’

‘Like what?’ Theo raises his eyebrows. ‘That we’re in a relationship? I thought we’d already agreed. We’re sleeping together, aren’t we?’

‘Well, yes, but that doesn’t necessarily mean…’

‘Yes, it does,’ he says firmly, and he’s got his hot, stern voice on again. ‘I don’t want to even pretend that this thing between us is casual. We talked about it beforehand; we talked about our feelings. We are both adults. I’m in this. I’m with you. So if you feel differently then please tell me now.’

He takes my hand in his and looks up at me earnestly. It feels like all my organs are rearranging themselves. There’s fear and joy all muddled up together, but I know he’s right about this – whatever is between us is not casual. The way I feel about him is much too big for that.

‘It’s not fair making me have this conversation with you when you’ve got no clothes on,’ I grumble.

His dimple appears. ‘I have to make the most of every advantage.’

‘I don’t feel differently about it,’ I say in a small voice. It’s not the most eloquent expression of feeling, but it clearly does the job because Theo pulls me on top of him and then it’s far, far easier to show him how I feel.

I lean down, catch his mouth with my own, kiss him slowly, gently, as if we have all the time in the world. His hands come up to frame my face, and he pulls me closer, his tongue caressing mine. There’s a hum of pleasure and I’m not sure if it comes from me or him; it seems to echo through us both. This kiss is slow and sweet and filthy all at once. It’s an act of tenderness, of possession, and I feel the now-familiar need at the heart of me, the need that seems to have no end, no matter how close we are, no matter how many times we do this, as if I won’t be satisfied until I’ve totally consumed him.

‘Now who sounds like a serial killer?’ he laughs up at me after I try disjointedly to vocalize this thought.

‘I thought it was quite romantic,’ I insist, pressing one more soft kiss to his lips.

‘Hey, if you’re saying you need us to spend all our time pressed together with no clothes on, I will support you in that,’ Theo says.

‘Selfless of you.’ When I pull away, he makes a sound of protest and it’s my turn to laugh. ‘We have to get up!’ I say firmly, extracting myself from his limbs. ‘We have to get ready for dinner. We already covered this. Stop being distracting.’

Theo’s only answer is to hold his pillow up to his face and let out a string of muffled curse words.

Now, as I scramble out of bed, I can finally get a proper look at the rest of the room. The enormous bed is draped in a canopy of pale, pale blue, and at the foot of it (about a mile away from the world’s fluffiest pillows) is a long sofa in a slightly darker blue velvet. This faces the two tall windows with far-reaching views of the countryside. There’s a large, marble fireplace, all neatly laid with firewood despite the fact it’s summer, and a couple of companionable armchairs arranged in front of it. There’s a door off to one side, and I wrap myself back in my dressing gown so that I can explore more.

‘Oh my God, this bathroom,’ I moan, taking in the gleaming white tiles, the deep, roll-top bath, the two sinks, the waterfall shower big enough for six people. The floor is warm under my bare feet. ‘When I die I want to be buried in this bathroom.’

‘Not sure a bathroom-slash-graveyard will really fit with their luxury aesthetic,’ I hear Theo comment.

When I come back to the bedroom, I find Theo sitting up, his hair standing on end. The crisp, white bedsheets pool around his waist. It’s quite the view.

‘What’s this?’ I point at another door, refusing to be diverted.

Theo yawns. ‘Oh, that’s the dressing room.’

‘Oh, of course. The dressing room,’ I say, pushing the door open. ‘Just like they have in the Premier Inn.’