Page 104 of Counting Down To You

He pulls back slightly to look down at me, keeping his arms round me. “My hotel isn’t far away. I’m not saying…I’m not expecting anything,” he adds quickly, on the verge of babbling, like I so often do. “But if you wanted to…You’d be welcome to stay. I mean, I’d love for you to stay. If you want that.”

“Yes,” I say firmly, looking him in the eye. “I want that.”

Because I can have one night, can’t I? One night where I accept what happened, and how all the pieces slot together, and still allow myself to have him. Just one night.

We hail a taxi and head to the hotel together, a small one in Marylebone.

“It’s not the Ritz,” Leo says as we step out of the lift on the first floor, “but…” We reach his room and he opens the door. The lighting is dim inside, with a large king-sized bed, a gray throw folded down on the end of it. A plush armchair sits by the window, with a small coffee table next to it, and I can see the large walk-in shower next to us in the ensuite.

“This must be costing you a fortune,” I hiss-whisper, like there might be someone around to hear.

“Nah. I know a guy who knows a guy.”

“Ah,” I say sagely. “The hotel network.”

He grins, shrugging out of his coat and moving to dump it on the chair. He turns to me, and in the quiet I feel it like I always do, that soft thrumming in the space between us. It feels different this time, though, as he steps toward me. He reaches out to touch my face, his thumb gently tracing my jawline.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs. His tone is tentative.

I place my hand over his, holding it against my skin. We look at each other, and I feel each and every nerve ending wake up in my body.

Just for tonight, I tell myself. One last night together, knowing and accepting everything that has happened between us.

He leans in to brush his lips against mine, light and warm and careful. My arms move to his shoulders. His hands come to rest on my waist, pulling me closer. Still gently, carefully, he eases me back, one step at a time, until the backs of my knees are against the bed.

He unzips my coat, stopping to press kisses down my throat. His fingers brush against my dress straps, pulling one side down over my shoulder. My hands push up under his shirt, causing goosebumps to rise over his skin. I kiss him and taste the champagne. His fingers trail down my sides, over my dress, and his mouth sinks more heavily against mine. My hands move down his back, over taut muscle. I feel him harden against me through our clothes, and bite down on his bottom lip at the feel of it.

His breath comes out as a hiss against my mouth and his fingers dig in. Then he eases away, as if just to look at me. Like we have all the time in the world, to do this. For tonight, I tell myself, we do.

He pushes my dress up, torturously slowly, my skin fizzing everywhere he touches. I raise my arms as he lifts the dress over me and dumps it unceremoniously on the floor. My breathing isn’t steady as he trails his fingers over my stomach, then up to my bra, his eyes watching their progress, like he’s fascinated by it. His palm moves over my chest, his thumb dipping inside my bra to rub over my nipple. I gasp as I lean into him.

“Your turn,” I murmur, pulling his shirt free of his trousers, unbuttoning it with slightly shaky fingers. He slips out of it, and I run my hand over his chest, feeling his heart hammering there. For a moment, I let my fingers rest there, over the scar. He tenses, like he did before when I touched him there, only now, of course, I know why. So I keep my hand where it is, then press my lips in the same spot. I feel the shuddering breath he takes, as his hands tangle in my hair. As I kiss him there again, then lower, before unbuttoning his belt and helping him out of the rest of his clothes.

He eases me down onto the bed, unhooking my bra as he does. And, slowly, he works his way down my body, his tongue brushing against the shell of my ear, the inner curve of my breast, down my stomach. He kisses away the tension, the sadness. Kisses me until every part of me is here with him, in this room.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Ali,” he murmurs against my skin. “Every single part of you.”

He kisses lower still, pulling down my underwear, until his mouth sinks between my thighs, where I’m already wet. I arch back on the bed, my breath going shallow at the feel of his tongue against me. When I roll my hips into him, he groans, and the sound makes me do it all over again.

I gasp as his tongue dips inside me again, and curl my fingers into his hair. When he comes up to meet me, our mouths find each other, surer this time. He bites my neck, a little harder now.

“I can’t get the feel of you out my head,” he says, almost reverently. “I feel like it will always be there, always be a part of me.”

He goes to spread my legs again, but I nudge him back, then roll so I’m over him. He could easily overpower me, but I place my hands on his chest to keep him where he is and he obeys. I lean down, licking a column up his throat, wanting to taste him. I reach between us, taking the length of him in my hand, and feel his muscles tighten. I run my hand down him, and his fingers dig into my sides. But he doesn’t try to move me. He stays there, letting me have the control. Like he knows that, tonight, I need it.

I rise over him, then lower down, letting him fill me. He takes my hips, holding me there, his eyes on mine the whole time. It’s the way he looks at me that urges me on. The way he waits, letting it be my decision.

We move together, slowly at first. My world narrows to this, to the points where our bodies meet. I lean down to scrape my teeth lightly against his neck as I rock. His palm comes to my spine, splaying there.

“I can’t forget the feel of you, either,” I murmur. “I don’t think I ever will.” Because it feels okay to admit it. Feels okay to admit to him, to myself, that I don’t think I’ll ever stop craving this. Stop craving him.

My words seem to shatter some self-control in him, and he flips me in one fluid movement, making me laugh. He kisses away the sound, teeth sinking against my bottom lip. He pulls my knee around him, angling us just right, before he fills me again, going deeper this time. I tilt my head back and moan my approval.

There is a liquid burning heat in my belly, spilling out to every part of me. “Leo,” I pant.

He thrusts into me again, forehead against mine as he groans. “I know.”

I grab his shoulders, nails scraping over his back. He kisses me, fiercely this time. And my eyes find his as we climax together.