Page 76 of Love, Accidentally

‘Which is?’

‘Because it’s what you want to do, not because you feel guilty.’

He smiles. ‘Deal. What do I need to do?’

‘I’m going to climb into bed. Can you take my phone and call Mike to find his hot chocolate recipe? Wrapping up with hot drinks and chocolate is the best way to deal with this, and that ticks all the boxes.’

He looks alarmed. ‘Where is your phone? It’s not…’ He glances at my other jeans pocket.

‘Relax. It’s in my coat.’ I reach for the zip to undo it, but my hands are still refusing to cooperate.

‘Let me,’ Will says, stepping forward and gently unfastening it. Thankfully, this feels a lot less intimate than him rummaging in my trouser pockets, and we manage it without further awkwardness.

‘Are you warm?’ I ask him as he puts in the unlock code I give him and looks up Mike’s number.

‘Well, I’m not as cold as you, that’s for sure.’

‘Good. This is going to sound weird, so please don’t take it the wrong way.’

‘Go on.’

‘Once you’ve made us hot chocolate, would you come and join me under the duvet? Your body heat will help warm me up.’

‘Umm, I guess so.’ Will looks uncertain and I have to resist the urge to laugh as the reality of what I’m asking him to do hits home. I’ve dreamed of getting him into my bed for weeks. Now, I’m finally going to achieve it, but the only thing I’m interested in is using him as a hot-water bottle.

31

‘How are you feeling now?’ Will’s voice asks from behind me.

‘Mmm,’ I reply softly.

Nearly an hour has passed since we got back to the flat. Mike’s initial reluctance to hand over his secret hot chocolate recipe was swiftly overcome when Will explained the situation and, according to Will, he wouldn’t hang up the phone until he was certain it was right. As I knew it would, the combination of hot chocolate and being under my warm duvet kick-started the defrosting process. Will was initially very wary about getting into bed with me, particularly when I asked if he’d mind if we both stripped down to the bare essentials so I could maximise the amount of heat I got from him, but he saw the reasoning in it and shuffled in beside me. Normally, I’d have been ridiculously aroused watching him strip down to his T-shirt and underwear, but all I could think about was how warm he’d be.

Now that I’m nearly back to normal, I’m starting to be conscious of him spooned behind me in an entirely different way. His arm is wrapped around me and his hand is resting lightly on my stomach. I’m wearing a vest, but I’m still very aware of it, and my insides are starting to fizz at the sensation of it. My imagination is starting to conjure up scenarios where he either moves it up to my chest, or down to my knickers; frankly, I’m not sure I care particularly which way it goes, as long as it goes one way or the other. His question has at least interrupted my reverie before it gets out of control.

‘What does that mean? Is that a good “Mmm” or a still frozen “Mmm”?’

‘It’s an “I’m very happy where I am right now” sort of “Mmm”,’ I tell him.

‘OK.’ He splays his fingers and closes them again. I’m sure he’s just getting comfortable, but the movement sends sparks through me. I can’t remember the last time I felt this turned on. I wonder if he’d notice me subtly lifting my vest so his hand was against my skin rather than the fabric. Dear God, the thought of it does things to me that something so simple shouldn’t be remotely capable of achieving. My heart is thudding so hard that I’m surprised he can’t feel it or hear it. Maybe he can, and he thinks it’s just part of the warming-up process. I wonder what he’d do if I gently placed my hand on top of his and encouraged him to move it…

‘Will?’ I ask, rolling over to face him so he has to take his hand away and I can hopefully break out of this rapidly escalating state of arousal.

‘Yes?’ His eyes are half closed, giving him a languid air which is only making things worse, as is the sight of his head on my pillow. It’s no good. As if drawn by an invisible magnet, I lean forward and bring my lips to rest gently on his. My relief that he doesn’t pull away is swiftly replaced by something much stronger, and my hand comes up to the side of his face. I so want to deepen the kiss, but he’s not giving anything away and I’m suddenly seized with doubt and pull away.

‘What was that for?’ he asks, sounding genuinely confused.

‘I don’t know. I just wanted to,’ I say, trying to sound like it’s completely normal. ‘I hope you didn’t mind.’

‘Mind?’ He smiles. ‘No. I didn’t mind. I just didn’t know if it was a thank-you kiss or…’ He tails off.

‘Or?’

‘Or something else.’

‘Can’t it be both?’ The atmosphere is suddenly awkward again. Why is this so difficult? Come on, Tilly, just tell the man how you feel. If you can’t do it when he’s in your bed, there’s no hope for you.

‘I’m…’ he begins before I have a chance to speak, before stopping again.

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