‘I want you.’ There it was said. Words he had first thought at sixteen. Words he had never allowed himself to say, words he had made himself bury and forget. ‘I want you, Flora.’
Her mouth parted and he couldn’t take his eyes off it. Couldn’t stop thinking about how it had felt under his, how she had tasted, how they fitted so perfectly he could have kissed her for ever.
‘If I say yes...’ Her voice was low, a slight tremble in it betraying her nerves. ‘If I agree will you back out again? Because I’m not sure I can take another rejection, Alex.’
‘I can’t make you any promises beyond tonight,’ he warned her. Warned himself.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m not asking for an eternity ring.’
‘This will change everything.’
She nodded slowly. ‘I think everything has already changed. We opened Pandora’s box and now it’s out there.’
He held her gaze. ‘What is?’
‘Knowledge.’
That was it. That was it exactly. Because now he knew. Knew how she felt, how she tasted, how she kissed, how her hands felt when they slid with intent. He knew the beginning; he had no idea how it ended. And oh, how he wanted to know.
And now that they had started they couldn’t just pretend. Maybe this was what they needed, one night. One night to really know each other in every way possible. What was it Flora had said just two nights ago? That they should have done this in their teenage years?
He begged to disagree. He knew a lot more now than he did then. No less eager, a lot more patient.
She still hadn’t moved although her hands were twisting nervously and her eyelashes fluttered shut under the intensity of his gaze, shielding her expressive eyes as he watched her. ‘You’re so beautiful, Flora.’
Her eyes opened again, wide with surprise. ‘Me? No, I’m too...’ She gestured wildly. ‘I’m too everything.’
‘No, you’re perfect.’ He took a step nearer, his eyes trained on her, the small room narrowing until he could see nothing else, just damp, dark curls, ivory silk and long lashes over velvet dark eyes. Another step and another until he was standing right there. Within touching distance. ‘Like a snow princess, hair as black as night...’ He twisted a silky curl around his finger and heard her gasp. Just a little. ‘Skin as white as snow.’ He brushed her cheek lightly. ‘Lips as red as rubies.’ His finger trailed down her cheek and along the wide curve of her mouth.
She stared at him for one second more, her breath coming quick, fast and shallow, and he could hold back no longer. He held her gaze deliberately as his hands moved caressingly down her shoulders, her arms until he reached her waist. He held them there for one moment, the heat of her flesh burning through the cool silk and then, in one quick gesture, he pulled at the knot holding her robe together. The belt fell away and as it did so the delicate ivory silk slithered back off first one white shoulder and then the other.
Flora reached out automatically to pull it back and he put out a hand to stop her.
‘No, let it go.’
Her face flushed a fierce rose but she stood still in response to his words and allowed the robe to fall away, allowed herself to be unveiled to the heat of his gaze. She stood like the goddess she was named for, fresh as the spring.
Alex sucked in a breath, his stomach, his chest tightening as he saw her, really saw her. She was all softness and curves, all hidden dips and valleys, ready for an explorer’s touch. He reached out reverently, to follow the curve of one breast. ‘Let me worship you, Flora.’
She nodded. Just the once but it was all he needed as he took her hand and led her over to the bed. They had all night. He hoped it would be enough.
‘I AM ABSOLUTELY STARVING.’ Flora sat up, wrapping the sheet around her breasts as she did so. How could Alex parade around stark naked so unconsciously? It must be that public-school upbringing.
Not that she was complaining. Her eyes travelled across his finely sculpted shoulders, down the firm chest, the flat stomach and, as he turned, dwelled appreciatively on a pair of buttocks Michelangelo would have been proud to carve. No, she wasn’t complaining at all.
‘It’s all that exercise,’ he said as he disappeared through the cloakroom door, reappearing with a bottle of champagne, so chilled she could see the frost beginning to melt on the bottle.
‘Mmm, the skiing was hard work,’ she replied as demurely as she could and laughed at the affronted look he gave her.
‘Minx,’ he muttered. ‘It’ll serve you right if I let you go hungry.’
‘Did I say skiing? Slip of the tongue. Oh, thank you...’ She took the glass handed her and sipped it appreciatively. ‘This is delicious.’
Don’t be too happy, she warned herself. Don’t be too comfortable. This isn’t real. But it was hard not to be. It just felt so...so right. She should be embarrassed. This was Alex. Her oldest and bestest friend. They had just done things that definitely went against any friendship code but it wasn’t awkward. It was horribly perfect.
He touched her as if he knew her intimately, as if he knew instinctively just what she wanted, what she needed, and she had wanted to touch every inch of him, nibble her way across every square inch of skin. No inhibitions—just want and need and giving and taking and gasping and moaning until she hadn’t known where he stopped and she started.
Flora took another hurried sip of the champagne as her body tingled with remembered pleasure.
And now she could sit there, her hair tumbling down, her lips swollen and tender, muscles aching in ways that she was pretty sure had nothing to do with her earlier exertions on the slopes, clad only in a sheet and, although she might not feel confident enough to wander around in the buff, she was comfortable. Usually she jumped straight back into her clothes after lovemaking but with Alex she didn’t feel too tall or too curvy. He’d made her feel fragile, desirable.
‘Look how tiny your waist is,’ he’d breathed as his hands had roamed knowledgeably across her body. ‘Perfect,’ he’d whispered as he’d kissed his way down her stomach. And that was how she’d felt. Perfect.
He sat down on the edge of the bed with that lithe casual grace she envied so much. ‘I could heat up one of the frozen meals or, if you don’t want to wait, there’s cheese, biscuits and grapes?’
‘Oh, cheese, please. That sounds perfect. Are you sure you don’t want me to help?’
His eyes flashed with wicked intent. ‘Nope, I don’t want you to get out of that bed. Ever.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ How she wished this could be for ever, this perfect moment. The fire blazing in the stove, the stars bright in the skylights, she blissfully sated, lying in bed sipping champagne watching her man prepare dinner.
But he wasn’t her man. And she needed to remember that.
* * *
‘Alex, are you awake?’ They had dozed off some time after midnight, blissed out after an evening of champagne and lovemaking. Flora had no idea what time it was now; the cabin was completely dark except for a faint reddish-gold glow from the stove.
Alex rolled over, throwing his arm across her as he did so, and she lay there, enjoying his weight on her, the skin against skin, the smell of him. ‘Mmm?’
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Go back to sleep.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes, more than okay.’ But she wasn’t. The reality of what they had done