Page 70 of Getting Dirty

He frowns in confusion.

‘When you said I wasn’t your type?’ I explain, softening my words with the hint of a smile. It’s about all I can muster when my heart is losing control in my chest.

He cocks his head, his eyes sweeping over me. ‘You reminded me of her, yes.’

‘I’m sorry for that.’

‘Don’t be sorry.’

; He places his drink down on a small side table and moves to kneel before me, his eyes soft as they gaze up at mine.

‘It turns out I do have a type; you are my type, she was my type, but that’s superficial...’ He cups my jaw and strokes my skin. ‘You see, underneath, you’re nothing alike. And what I feel for you... It’s more. It’s real. I...’ My breath hitches and he shakes his head. ‘I’m not very good at this.’

I bow my head towards him, dizzy on the meaning of his words, the promise of him feeling more, the promise of his potential love...

‘On the contrary,’ I say, brushing his lips with my own. ‘I think you’re better than you know.’

And then I’m kissing him with every ounce of the love I feel inside. Because he loves me, and I love him, and we have all the time in the world to tell each other how we feel, to carve out a path together. To find a way to make our lives converge. Because I’m not turning my back on this. Not now that I have it.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I CAN’T SLEEP. Coco has her head on my chest, snoring softly, but I’m staring into the darkness plagued with what ifs.

I almost told her everything. When we were sitting before the fire and I was so lost in my thoughts, thinking of ways to explain that wouldn’t impact the plan I have underway back in London.

But then she asked about Jess—a topic I could easily cover now that my past no longer has any hold over me. Thanks to her. Thanks to Coco and my love for her, I realise that what Jess and I had was never love.

But you can tell me anything—you know that, right?

Her words haunt me. The one thing I really wanted to confess I couldn’t—not yet.

Soon though—very soon.

Philip Lauren will be waking up to a special delivery package today, and I expect a phone call soon after. A barrage of abuse. And then his rational side will have to win out. Or so I hope.

Then I can make real time for this—for her.

I press my lips to her head, letting my breathing ease and hoping for sleep to come and take away the what ifs.

* * *

I wake to the incessant buzzing of my mobile phone and an empty bed. Ash isn’t far, though. I can hear the shower running in the en suite bathroom and I smile, my mind already visualising him naked and all soaped up.

I reach for my phone on the bedside table. I should hurry and join him—the sliver of light coming through the curtains tells me I’ve overslept as it is. But then, what’s the rush? The day is ours and it feels so good.

My phone stops ringing as I pick it up and I have to activate it again to see the notifications.

Three missed calls: Grace, Philip, Grace.

Granny.

I sit bolt upright as the world around me spins. Something’s happened. Something bad. My hand soars to my throat as I try to breathe through the panic.

Calm down. You don’t know for sure. There could be any number of reasons why they would need to ring...

No, there’s only one.