Page 32 of Book People

He does not disappoint.

‘This is why,’ he says.

He discards his glasses, leans forward, and his mouth covers mine.

Somehow I always knew this would happen and I don’t avoid him.

He lets go of my wrist and lifts his hands, his fingers sliding into my hair, curling into fists, holding me still. Not that I’m going anywhere, because my God . . .

This man cankiss. If kissing was an Olympic sport, he’d win a gold medal. He’d winallthe bloody medals.

His mouth is so hot and he is demanding, nipping at my bottom lip, teasing it, coaxing me to open for him and before I’meven conscious of it, that’s what I do. He doesn’t hesitate, taking advantage of my invitation, deepening the kiss.

My heart races even faster and I’m hot all over, my skin tight. He smells good, the heat of his body inches from mine and all I can think about is getting even closer to him than I am already.

God, if he kisses like this, what else can he do? I want to find out. I’m desperate to find out.

I lift my own hands, touching the wall of his chest, testing the muscles beneath the warm cotton of his T-shirt. He feels strong and hard, and I want to press myself against him, relieve the sudden, nagging ache between my thighs.

Our kiss gets hotter, becoming feverish. He tastes good, too, the flavour of the scotch giving it a kick, though I really don’t need the extra alcohol. Not when I’m half drunk on him already.

Then, just as I’m melting against him, my fingers curling into the cotton of his shirt, he releases me abruptly and pulls away.

I stare at him, open-mouthed, as he pushes himself off the couch and takes a couple of steps towards the windows, his back to me. His tall figure is rigid with tension and I can hear the harsh rush of his breath, his hands in fists at his sides.

My heartbeat thuds and I have difficulty finding air. It’s as if I’ve been diving down very deep and have suddenly rushed to the surface, and all my addled brain can think isCan you get the bends from a mind-blowing kiss?

‘That was a mistake,’ Sebastian says, in a voice I don’t recognise. ‘You should leave.’

I blink and what’s actually happening takes a minute to penetrate.

That kiss, thatastonishingkiss, was a mistake. And now he wants me to leave.

I’m still breathing hard, my nipples feeling tight and sensitive against the lacy cotton cups of my bra, and the ache between my legs won’t let up.

I don’t know what happened. I mean, part of me knew that he was attracted to me, even if it was only on a subconscious level and, yes, I found him unbelievably hot, much to my annoyance.

Buthewas the one who crossed the line here, not me. He was the one who brought it out into the open, and if he’s not going to do anything about it, then he’ll have to do better than ‘It was a mistake. You should leave’.

We’re doing this festival together. We’ll have to be in each other’s company. We still have to go through these letters and, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to turn tail and run from the room like a sixteen-year-old virgin. I ran away from Jasper without telling him where I was going, it’s true, but that was different. He would have followed me and I was afraid he’d manipulate me into staying.

But I’m not afraid of Sebastian. We have to talk about this and like hell is he going to send me away.

‘No,’ I say. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what that was all about.’

He gets even more tense, his shoulders just about around his ears, his knuckles white. ‘If you know what’s good for you—’

‘Don’t be such a drama king, Sebastian,’ I snap, saying his name for the first time and getting some satisfaction from the way he twitches when I say it. ‘We have to work together on this festival and, before you even say a word, no, I’m not going to pretend it never happened.’

He’s silent a moment longer, then turns around. Again, he’s blazing, his jaw tight, his eyes all fire. As if he’s at the end of the rope he’s hanging himself with and can’t decide whether to kick the chair away or climb down.

‘What do you think just happened?’ His deep voice is full of anger, though I don’t understand why. ‘I kissed you.’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘You did.’

‘I shouldn’t have.’

‘Why not?’

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