Page 48 of One Night With You

‘Good for you,’ she replies. ‘Getting out there. That’s what you came here for, isn’t it?’

I carry on, noting the mild envy or jealousy, the edge toher words: ‘I met this gorgeous woman not long after I’d moved here, you see. Smart, charming, funny, hot … good chat. Set the bar high. Gotta kiss a few frogs to find my princess after that, you see.’

She makes a vomiting noise. ‘You’re such a bad flirt.’

‘That’s not what you said before.’ My voice is soft. I’m testing the waters. This back-and-forth could go either way, but that’s what is making it feel so worth the risk. Why else did she ask me to come out here? Why else is her leg pressed up to mine that way? Her chest pushed forward, her back arched seductively, like a cat? I almost kissed her when she stood at the door, earlier. The way her sweatpants hung low on her hips, the wild untamedness of her hair framing that picture-perfect face that she’s got no idea is so damnedcute… I knew it would have been stupid, but I wanted to. You can’t fight chemistry. In fact, it should be law that all chemistry should be acted upon, just to make sure there are no missed chances, no almosts.

‘No,’ she concedes. ‘I suppose I didn’t. I liked that that was my last night, you know. It helped. Everything you said, when we were … you know. After.’

‘After we fucked?’ I say.

‘Nic!’ She rolls her eyes in a fake scolding.

‘What?’ I reply, as if I’m the most innocent person in the world.

She shakes her head. ‘You’re impossible.’ She laughs. ‘You know exactly what I mean. That night was helpful and kind and lovely and also you have a very nice penis. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, I’m sure.’

‘I don’t mind hearing I’ve got a nice penis as many times as you care to tell me that,’ I chortle. ‘By all means, keep the compliments coming.’

She looks at me properly, now. ‘Seriously,’ she says. ‘This confidence! That night, you seemed … I don’t know. A bit intimidated by me?’

‘I’m sure that was all part of the turn-on.’ I grin.

‘Nothing wrong with a little thrill of the chase,’ she says lightly. ‘Is there?’

‘Zero complaints here,’ I reply, holding up my palms in surrender. ‘And for what it’s worth …’

‘Yes?’ she says.

‘You still scare the hell out of me.’

It makes her burst out laughing. ‘Excellent,’ she replies.

I grin back at her.

‘So here we are again,’ I say, seizing my chance. ‘This house. You and me. Clock ticking close to midnight …’

My hand moves an inch so that my pinkie finger brushes gently against hers.

‘A little bit of history repeating itself, perchance …’ she replies, lowering her voice so that I have to dip my head to hear her.

‘Imagine that,’ I whisper.

‘Hmm.’

We look at each other, and I lean in for the kiss I’ve been craving all night. The kiss I’ve been craving for weeks. Months.

I hold my face millimetres from hers, that last linger before closing the gap, a delicious pause of teasing. It makes her do her half-smile, nervousness and amusement personified, and then our lips touch.

She tastes like my beer. It’s chaste, at first. A gentle tickle through mutual smiles, and instinctively I reach out a hand to her neck to pull her in closer. Now it’s happening, I want her as close as possible. It makes me hard when she reachesout back to me, those red nails raking through my hair and sending shivers down my spine. We stay like that, holding each other, letting our tongues meet slowly, deliberately, and then it’s more passionate, like the restraint we’ve shown all night can now be shed.

I move from beside to sit in front of her, where our bums should have gone in the first place. I push her knees apart and she looks at me as if to say,not here?But it’s not what she thinks it is – I reach around to scoop her up so that she shifts off the table and into my lap, her dress pushing up around her thighs and legs wrapping around me.

She shifts her weight so that the warmness of her crotch pushes against the straining part of my trousers, and she grinds into me like we’re teenagers dry-humping before curfew. If she keeps doing that, I’m going to come in my pants – like, seriously – so I move my hands to the tops of her bare thighs to press down, my thumb close to the fabric of her knickers, only just hidden by her clothes. I pull away from her lips and she looks at me, her chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. I wait, staring at her, noting how her inhalations and exhalations become more shallow. I move my thumb the tiniest bit. She freezes. I stop. We stare. I move it the tiniest bit more, so that it rests between her legs, over the fabric that’s now wet. I move it once, twice, three times, and she tips her head back, showing me her neck, and moans.

That’s it. That’s done me. I work my way under her knickers until I can feel her properly, and she throws her head forwards so that her forehead touches mine, and I work fast. She stays statue-still, and from a distance, in the shadows, I don’t think anyone can tell what we’re doing. We look just like the others did earlier, like we’re kissing in a quiet corner, away from everyone else.

‘Look at you,’ I whisper, pausing, just for a second.

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