Page 72 of Hot Girl Summer

“I’m so sorry, Danny. Is she okay?” I ask, quietly hoping that it was nothing sinister and my questions don’t upset him.

He nods, closes the door and makes his way across the hallway. “The move did them a world of good. This was their final project before they retired a few years ago. They bought the existing property, knocked it down and turned it into this. They loved this place so much that they didn’t have the heart to sell it, so they kept it and let it out as a holiday rental,” he says, opening another door.

I peer in to see another guest room. It’s almost identical to the first, but it looks a little more lived in with a stack of books housed on a small desk, and a rail of clothes hanging in an open wardrobe.

“I moved in here when Belle and I separated. This is my niece’s room.” I have a flashback to the little girl holding Belle’s hand. “She goes to Brighton University, so she stays here during term time. My brother feels better about her having a home from home. That way they can save a bit of money, and know she’s safe.”

And the mystery of the little girl continues. “Do you have any other nieces or nephews?” I ask, trying my best to sound casual.

“Amelia’s the only one on my side of the family, but I have two little nieces on Belle’s side; a six-year-old and eight-year-old.”

Mystery solved.

After he shows me around his office and the large, white bathroom, he leads me towards another door in the centre of the landing. Turning to face me, he palms the handle, and says, “this is where the magic happens.” His hazel eyes spark with a wink as dimples deepen. “And by that, I mean the magic of sleep.”

For a moment, my mind escapes to fleeting thoughts of other women in his bed, but they vanish as soon as he opens the door. Like the rest of the house, the Pinterest-worthy room carries a neutral colour palette, with homely touches that make it feel cosy and luxurious. Crisp, white cotton lays on a king-sized bed, with an arrangement of cushions and a taupe blanket styled neatly across the bottom.

Patio doors open out onto pale grey decking and a glass balcony, with panoramic sea views over the English Channel—it completely takes my breath away. The entire house has a whispering scent of citrus; fresh and full of warmth, like sitting in an orange grove on a sunny evening to watch the sun set.

“How do you keep this place so tidy?” I ask.

He shifts his weight and runs a hand through his hair. “Would you judge me if I tell you I have a housekeeper?”

“Why would I? There’s no shame in having a helping hand. You’re busy, and you’re creating a job for someone. I’d say that’s a win.”

“Very true. So, what do you think?” He sounds like a real estate agent trying to make a sale.

“It’s beautiful, I love it. You even have those tiny, posh seagulls over this way.”

I admire the dainty, pretty birds, which are small in comparison to the giant sky pirates closer to town.

“You’re beautiful.”

I meet his honey-green gaze, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. My heart stops for a full second as butterflies swarm my belly.

“Sophia, I—”

“Ouch.”

Pain sears through my shoulder blade, and my hand shoots toward the injury. I curse the timing. His hand immediately follows, and I move mine away to welcome his warmth on my skin. Instantly, the pain eases and I relax.

“What can I do?” he asks, his palms moving lower down my arms. I breathe him in. An intoxicating cocktail of bergamot and sandalwood, and summer nights on the coast.

“Kiss it better.”

Chapter Twenty

Ilookintohiseyes, then, biting my lip, draw my gaze down towards his mouth, and kiss him. Instantly, I melt against him. Residing in the moment with my hand resting against his chest, my body stills, and the pain eases.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks, against my mouth.

Pulling back, I search his darkened eyes. “Are you?”

“Do you realise how much I want you?”

Smiling, I kiss him again, urging my heart to stop racing as he guides me down onto the bed. I shift backwards, and prop myself onto my elbows. With his knee between my legs, he undoes the buttons on his shirt and peels it off, releasing a burst of his scent as it falls to the floor. His sculpted body is even better when I’m not looking at it through a car wing mirror. Infinitely better because, this time, he’s close enough to touch.

Leaning on my good arm, I reach out. Between breathless kisses, my fingers slide from the dark wisps of hair on his chest, down his athletic abs to his tan leather belt. I tug on his waistband, and he climbs on top of me, claiming my mouth. A bolt of heat shoots through my centre as I savour the taste of him.

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