Page 87 of The Vintage Dress Shop in Primrose Hill
Sophy nodded and turned to face him. ‘I know we do.’
‘There’s so much that needs to be said.’
‘We could literally spend the whole night talking to each other.’
‘The whole night?’
‘Maybe not the whole night.’
‘Because even though I said that I wasn’t going to be the sort of man who’d sleep with a woman even if I knew…’
‘I’m not here for sleeping…’
‘Did you still want to…’
‘If you do…’
‘Then why aren’t you kissing me?’ Charles demanded, holding out his arms.
They didn’t stop kissing all the way down the hall to Charles’s bedroom. Sophy had a vague glimpse of black walls, white floorboards, an elegantly shabby Persian rug, as Charles lowered her onto his bed, and followed her down.
They were still kissing as they undressed each other with impatient hands, then caressed each millimetre of skin uncovered as if they had all the time in the world.
They only stopped kissing for long enough for Charles to murmur against Sophy’s mouth, ‘Are you sure about this?’
‘Never been more sure of anything,’ Sophy said and it was the absolute truth.
She’d agonised over and tried to swerve everylife-changing decision she’d ever made but this here, now, felt so right.
Sophy had always thought of sex as an act. Something that usually lasted half an hour, tops. But this, with Charles, was making love. There was no beginning, no end, and Sophy couldn’t help but wonder why she was leaving the next day because now that she was in Charles’s arms, she felt like she’d come home.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sophy only closed her eyes for a second. Just a second.
But she must have fallen asleep. They both must have done, because when she sat bolt upright, adrenalin suddenly coursing through her, Charles woke up with a start too.
‘Go back to sleep,’ he said, reaching out to stroke Sophy’s shoulder. Just that one touch was enough to ignite all those delicious nerve endings, which had been slumbering. Sophy leaned in closer just for a moment, then wrenched herself away.
‘Oh my God! What time is it? Where’s my phone? Is it morning?’ Every thought was worse than the last. She yanked the duvet off the bed to wrap round her as she retraced her steps to the hall, where she’d flung her handbag the night before.
‘It’s all right. It’s not even six,’ Charles said, following her out into the hall. He was in just his boxer shorts, all lean limbs, not that Sophy had a spare second to appreciate the view.
‘It’s not all right. Mum had this crazy notion that I needed to check in at eight thirty—’
‘You can check in online.’ Charles was at her side, his hands on Sophy’s shoulders. ‘Take deep breaths. It’s going to be fine. It really is.’
‘I can’t check in online,’ Sophy all but wailed. ‘All my stuff is at home. I need to get back to Hendon and I still haven’t finished my final packing…’
‘But they have shops in Australia…’
‘And I need to wash my hair!’
‘Your hair’s perfect,’ Charles insisted, which was a lie because it currently looked as if it had dropped on Sophy’s head from a great height. ‘You need coffee.’
‘I haven’t got time for coffee,’ Sophy said but she followed him to the kitchen, clutching her phone, which, when she switched it back, lit up and flashed and vibrated. ‘My mum is going to kill me.’
‘I think she’ll probably give you a pass,’ Charles said as he spooned ground coffee into his moka pot.
