Page 58 of Head First
Hugh reaches the deck moments after me, his abs rippling as he stands up. I feel like the wind got knocked out of me all over again.
‘I think I might go in,’ Pippa muses, ‘or is it too choppy?’
‘It’s not so bad,’ I say, edging towards the stairs to my room. Pippa eyes me, but before she can say anything, Hugh announces that he’s going to go grab his phone. He walks downstairs calmly, like nothing happened. And every cell in my body strains to meet him in our room.
‘I’m going to go get cleaned up,’ I say, leaving Pippa in my wake. I force myself to walk excruciatingly slowly, hoping no one notices how much of a hurry I’m in to follow Hugh.
By the time I’m down the narrow steps, I’m racing towards our room. Only once I’m inside and have shut the door behind me, do I get to fully take in Hugh standing, his head slightly bent against the celling, staring at me with the most wolfish grin I have ever seen. The boat creaks loudly.
‘Perfect,’ he says, ‘if that keeps happening, you can be as loud as you want.’ He steps towards me and gently pulls at the tie of my bikini. The back comes undone. He unties the string around my neck next. I reach for his shorts, but he places one hand over mine.
‘In case you haven’t noticed,’ he murmurs, his lips right next to my ear, ‘there’s only room for one at a time in here.’
I open my mouth to protest, but he covers my lips with his as he unties each side of my swimsuit bottoms. They fall to the floor and he lowers me onto his twin mattress. The smell of him on the sheets makes my hips arch with desire.
He thumbs my nipple with one hand and slips his other hand in between my legs. He kisses my neck, his lips fluttering over my collarbone. I’m ready for him already. He teases the edge of my lips with his finger, his thumb stroking my clit.
‘Hugh,’ I gasp. I reach for him, to pull him closer towards me, to feel his lips on mine, but he resists, swirling his tongue around my nipple instead. He slides a finger inside me and pleasure courses through me. I thrust my hips with him, wanting more of him, deeper in me. Another finger joins the first. I whimper.
His thumb keeps circling while his mouth kisses lower and lower. He swirls his tongue over my belly button. I see stars against the wooden frame of the bunk bed.
Suddenly, his mouth replaces his thumb, his tongue kissing the bundle of nerves with so much intensity my toes curl. His fingers maintain a steady rhythm, driving me deeper, and his other hand circles my nipple again. He teases me with pressure in so many places I already feel like I could burst.
‘Hugh,’ I gasp again.
Everything stops. His fingers still, he raises his head of shaggy blond hair.
‘Millie,’ he breathes. Then he sucks on me again, before raising his head once more. ‘You taste.’ Another lick, this one slower, more teasing. ‘Incredible.’ Then his fingers are in me again, pumping faster and faster. My hips are moving of their own accord, grinding against his face, his hand. I’m on the verge of climax, the pleasure too intense, when Hugh does something with his tongue that I’ve never felt before. A moan escapes my lips as I shatter around his fingers, my hips bucking up towards his face, my hands grabbing the sheets next to me. He doesn’t stop until I’ve stopped shaking, my body relaxing into the mattress.
His head appears from between my legs, a lazy grin spreading across his face.
My brain starts to process my surroundings again, the creaking sway of the boat, the wood frame inches above my head. As the sensations ebb, a thought crystallises, repeating in my brain.
Millie, you taste incredible. Millie. Millie.I gulp in a breath of air. Dread settles over me like sand settling on the ocean floor.How did I let it get this far? I can’t keep lying to him. I can’t jeopardise Millie’s career this way.
‘Millie,’ Hugh says, and my knees clamp together on their own accord. I scramble away from him, peeling myself off the bed.
‘I should go shower,’ I manage to mumble, the words hard to get out. His smile disappears. He bites his bottom lip.
‘Already?’ he asks, disappointment echoing in his voice.
‘Yes, I . . .’ I trail off, I don’t know what to say. I pull a towel around my body, suddenly hyper-aware of my own nakedness. At the hurt look on Hugh’s face, my heart feels like it’s breaking into a million pieces. ‘It’s not you.’
‘Was that not . . .’ He trails off.
‘It was,’ I say, but my voice is tinged with worry. Everything Hugh just did to my body, to my senses, to my mind, proved to me something I didn’t want to admit. That I really like Hugh, maybe even more than I’ve ever liked anyone. And that Hugh thinks I’m my sister. Which means . . . ‘But I think it was a mistake . . . I think maybe we’re better off as friends,’ I force myself to say.
‘Friends . . .’ He repeats, his eyes glazed over, turning darker with every second.
I don’t want to think about it, so I turn towards the door. I can’t meet Hugh’s eyes. My gaze flits over the stuff scattered across my bed and I see the journal Millie made for me. I remember the real reason I’m here – the reason I keep conveniently forgetting about, and Hugh keeps distracting me from.
I am here to do something for my sister. I am pretending to be her, but that doesn’t mean that I’m no longerme. I am not someone who lets a random fling distract her for a job. No matter how deep in my bones I want to do to Hugh what he just did to me, no matter how badly I ache for it to happen again, no matter how much my body knows, although my brain can’t admit it, that I’ve never felt a desire so strong for anyone else, I can’t let my feelings keep clouding my vision.
Clutching my towel around my waist, I slip out of our room. I make a promise to myself for what feels like the thousandth time: if I can’t tell Hugh the truth, which I can’t, then no more letting him distract me.
Chapter 22
‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ Pippa asks Miguel, squinting out at the horizon. Storm clouds have bunched together in the distance, forming a menacing line of grey.
