Just a Number (Thirst Trap #2)

33. Mel

Chapter thirty-three

Mel

“ O h no, I insist on walking a lady to her door.”

“There’s really no need.” I try to offer a smile of reassurance, but my jaw hurts from all the fake smiling I’ve been doing for the last couple of hours. An ex-colleague talked me into this blind date and I’ve not decided how I’m going to get my revenge when I see her next.

I’m sure Laurence is a wonderful guy, but he’s clearly a big fan of the sound of his own voice and hasn’t shut up all night. He looks attractive—tall and blonde. And he’s wearing a good suit. But I’ve barely got a word in edgeways and I’ve never been more glad to see my road as he turns down it to drop me home.

He drives a sporty little car and I’m already wondering how the hell I’m going to get myself out of the low bucket seat. But if need be, I’ll crawl. I just need to get inside and take some painkillers from the pounding headache that’s been abusing my right temple for the last hour. And then take myself to bed.

And no checking Instagram. I’ve had to ban myself from late-night scrolling. Well, it’s hardly scrolling, just watching Alex’s content over and over again and getting myself all worked up and then not being able to sleep. Urgh!

“You can just drop me anywhere here, thanks Laurence,” I say. He slows to park up at the kerb. “I had a lovely evening. Thanks again for dinner and the drive home.” I’m reluctant to look his way in case he starts another one-sided conversation, but it would be rude not to. I chance a peek, and he’s watching me with a smirk on his face.

“I mean it, Mel. I’m walking you to the door.”

“Okay,” I say. Anything to get me in the house with the door firmly shut behind me. I just want to be on my own now.

He gets out and walks round to open the door. I have to admit some gratitude at the hand he reaches out to help me out of the low-slung car.

He doesn’t drop my hand and instead laces our fingers together as we make our way to my front door. This is weird. We only met a couple of hours ago. Why the hell is he holding my hand?

“So, are you going to invite me in?” My mouth drops open at the forwardness of his question. Shit!

“Err, I’ve actually got an early start tomorrow, so I’ll need to take a rain check this time,” I tell him. I hold in that annoying need of mine to please, refusing to offer seeing him again.

“That’s a shame. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you tonight. I’d love to know you better.” Panic rises from my belly as he leans in. I have absolutely no desire to kiss this man. I pull back, trying to work out how to get out of this politely. I place a hand on his chest, trying to hold him off, but it just makes things worse when he covers my hand with his. “You sure I can’t come in?” His eyebrow raises.

“No, I really can’t…” It’s like I’m trapped. I need to get out of this.

“Okay then, goodbye,” comes the masculine drawl from nearby. My gaze shoots in that direction and my knees weaken at the sight of Alex–propped up against his bike. How the fuck did I not spot him?

Laurence must look in the same direction. There’s a much less friendly tone as he asks, “And who are you?” He also turns around and steps, so I’m behind him. I gaze over his shoulder, drinking in the sight of Alex in his leathers. He stands up straight from his leaning pose and begins stalking towards us.

“I’m a friend of Mel’s,” he declares. “You alright, Mel?”

“Alex.” It’s all I can manage. I’m startled. I’ve only seen him through a screen for the last six months and now he’s here. I step clear of Laurence to move closer and we meet somewhere in the middle. I want to hug him. But I don’t know why he’s here. “Hey.”

“It’s good to see you, Mel. I’ve missed you.” I want to close my eyes and savour the timbre of his voice, but my eyes refuse to give up the glorious sight of him standing in front of me.

“We were in the middle of something here.” Laurence’s voice comes from behind me.

“I’m sorry, Laurence.” I turn to look back at him over my shoulder. “We’ve not seen each other in a while. I’ll need to call it quits for tonight.” Again, I hold back that good-girl urge to soothe and offer a second date.

“I thought you had to be up early?” he asks, annoyance tinging his voice.

“We’re very dear friends. We’ve lots to catch up on,” Alex tells him with a saccharine smile I’ve never seen before.

“I’m sorry, Laurence, maybe another time.” It’s the closest I’ll come to offering to meet him again, but I need him gone, dammit, so I can work out why Alex is here.

“Okay, well, if you’re sure?” He steps as if to come closer to me and as he does, Alex wraps an arm over my shoulders, pulling me closer to lay a kiss on my temple. Just that one small touch soothes my pounding head.

“Thank you for the lift home, Laurence,” I say politely. I don’t move away from Alex, hoping that it will be enough to send Laurence away.

Luckily, it works, and he strides back towards his car without saying another word. I stay still, watching as he gets in, slamming the door behind him. The engine fires up and he revs the car loudly before he pulls away.

“I don’t think much of the company you’re keeping these days, Melody,” Alex says with a tut.

I leap away from him. “What the actual fuck are you doing here?”

He stands his ground, taking his time to look at me, starting from my heels, all the way up my bare legs to the brown suede pencil skirt I’m wearing and further up over the sky blue pussy-bow blouse. It’s like an eternity and I do nothing but stand there and let him do it. Finally, our eyes meet.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he rasps.

I suck in a breath. My knees, still not recovered from the shock of seeing him, wobble.

“Can we go inside?” he asks.

“If we do, will you tell me why you’re here? Six months before you’re supposed to be.”

His head dips in a nod. “Of course.”

My hands tremble as I reach into my bag and pull out my keys. Alex follows close behind as I step up to the front door to unlock it. His breath skates along the back of my neck and there’s a deep-seated reluctance to move away from him. I want to be close to him. I let go of a sigh that’s been building since I clapped eyes on him, straighten my shoulders, and step into the house.

He reaches up to unclasp his biker jacket and I cannot tear my gaze away as he pulls the zip down, slowly revealing the black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath. He shrugs out of the jacket and I startle as he steps in my direction to hang it on top of where I’ve put my bag on the bannister.

He holds my chin, but I keep my gaze averted, looking down at his tattooed arm. There’s new ink since I last saw him.

“Look at me, Mel,” he rasps and then he adds, “please.” It’s the ‘please’ that does it. My eyes whip up to meet his, making every single cell in my body vibrate with need and longing.

His touch is a gift after six long months.

His presence here, with me, feels momentous.

My lips part on a gasp as he lowers his head and plants a soft kiss against my lips. He lets loose a groan that seems to vibrate through him. “I don’t suppose you’d be open to the physical reunion before the conversational one, would you?” He rests his forehead against mine so he is all I can see.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper. It’s so intimate, being this close. I should push him away, but he’s taken me by surprise and my will is weak. I want to soak up every touch, every look before he leaves again.

“I came to see you. I couldn’t stay away a moment longer,” he whispers back, and the huskiness of his voice makes me want to melt.

“I can’t…” Panic starts to overtake me. I bring my hands up to his chest to push him away. “I just need a moment. I wasn’t expecting…” My brain refuses to cooperate and form a sentence. But he listens and takes a step back, his eyes clouded with concern.

“Take a moment. Do you want me to get you some water?” he asks, gesturing up the hallway towards the kitchen. I nod, grateful for the reprieve and a moment to centre myself. He takes my hand in his as he passes, tugging me along to the kitchen.

Inside, he flicks on the light and steers me over to the breakfast bar, settling me onto a stool. He grabs a glass and fills it from the tap, bringing it over and then stands with one hand on the back of my stool and one on the countertop, hemming me in so I can’t escape. But there’s some distance now and sitting down has helped my wobbly knees. I take a few sips before placing the glass back down.

“I thought we said a year,” I say, not seeing any reason not to get straight to the point now I’m calmer.

“You said a year,” he retorts, a brow lifted.

“I’m sure you agreed.”

“I managed six months, Mel, and I still think about you every bloody day. You're the first thing on my mind every morning before I’ve had coffee. And you’re always the last thing on my mind at night. I had to come and see how you were doing. I couldn’t stay away any longer.” The light from above plays against his face. It makes me want to reach up and touch him, run my palm over the stubble covering his chin. “How long have you been dating that guy?” he asks, gesturing his head to the front door.

“Tonight was the first time I met him. One of the girls I used to work with set it up.”

“And are you planning to see him again?” He stares right into my eyes like he’s trying to pluck the answer directly from my brain rather than wait to hear it on my lips.

“No. It was… He’s not for me.”

“And is there anyone else?”

“What does it matter?” I ask with a sigh.

“I want to know if I’ll be stepping on anyone’s toes if I kiss you properly. If we spent the night together.”

I bite down hard on my lower lip as his gaze turns molten.

“What do you say, Mel? One night together. See if we can work this out of our systems once and for all and move on?”

My gaze skitters away to the wall as I picture what he’s insinuating. It’s what I’ve dreamt about for months. Him turning up and the experience of being with him again.

“Do you think one night would do it?” I ask, hesitancy in my voice.

“Honestly?” His question draws my gaze back. He gives a self-deprecating smile. “No. I don’t think it will. But I have to try something. I haven’t got over you, Mel. You’re still right here.” His fist comes up to rub against his chest and a rush of air expels from my lips. “Please, let me try.”

“One night, no strings?” I clarify.

He hesitates, looking up to the ceiling. “I can’t lie to you, Mel. I don’t think this is one night. There are so many fucking strings drawing me to you. We’re knotted together, but I can’t stay away any longer. I need you.” That last sentence comes out with a growl. He sounds… needy. Why the fuck is that making my panties damp? My mind is spinning. I think I should say no to this, but right here, at this very moment, I can’t think of a good reason to. I’ve longed for this man. He owns my heart. He’s here. And he’s asking.