Page 90 of So Now You're Back

‘Lizzie, are you up?’

A low voice beckoned Lizzie out of dreamland, along with the light tap on her bedroom door.

She clicked on her iPhone. Squinted at the luminous digital clock. Seven a.m. ‘Just about.’

A nimbus of light from the hall silhouetted Trey in the doorway. ‘Sorry, you’re still in bed.’

Thrusting the mess of hair off her face, she smiled at the light blush on his cheeks. ‘It’s OK, I’m not naked.’

He coughed into his hand. And she could have sworn his gaze flicked to her breasts. Her nipples rose accordingly, thrusting against the thin cotton camisole she wore with pyjama bottoms. She’d seen that look quite a few times, ever since their X-rated snog in the park. Intent and wary, and observant enough to make her mouth water and her thighs go all trembly. However much he might want to deny it, Trey was as aware of her now as she was of him and it felt … empowering. In a Beyoncé ‘Single Ladies’ kind of way. Because she knew however much he wanted her, Trey would never ask. Never cross that line. And never try to shame her into putting out the way Liam had. So it was entirely up to her to take the initiative. The thought would have crippled her with nerves a week ago. But, after all those secret looks, now it made her feel strong and sexy and, well, empowered.

She flung back the duvet, leaped out of the bed and whipped her robe off the pile of magazines and assorted other crap littered all over the floor. ‘Come in, Trey.’

He stood stranded in the doorway, watching her every move as she tied the robe. ‘I need to ask you a favour,’ he said, taking a cautious step into the room.

She crossed to the door and pushed it shut behind him. He stared down at her mouth for a moment. A long, exhilarating moment.

‘What’s the favour?’ she asked finally, when he didn’t continue.

He snapped back to full consciousness. ‘Could you take Aldo to school this morning?’

‘Yes, of course.’ She put her anticipation on lockdown. Noticing the smudged hollows under his eyes for the first time. He’d gone out last night after putting Aldo to bed. And she didn’t know when he’d returned. ‘Is it your mum?’

He gave a weary nod. ‘It’s probably a false alarm. I’ve had a few of those. But the hospice nurse called and said I might want to come in a bit earlier today. She’s had a rough night.’

‘Stay as long as you need to. I can pick up Aldo, too, if you want.’

‘Thanks.’

But as he reached for the doorknob, she slid her hand into his. ‘Trey, wait.’

He turned back. Letting go of his hand, she stretched up on tiptoes and placed her hands against his chest. He felt warm and solid, but the ripple of tension wasn’t far behind.

‘You look like you could use a hug.’

‘Better not,’ he said, not denying it.

She touched his cheek, inhaled the scent of his citrus shaving soap and peppermint toothpaste. And waited for his gaze to meet hers.

‘I’m not fragile, you know.’ She certainly didn’t feel fragile any more. ‘You don’t have to protect me.’ The rush of tenderness was as potent as the rush of endorphins. Whatever happened between them in the long-term, even if it was nothing, here and now, she knew he needed her. And she wanted to show him she cared. She peered up at him, then cradled his cheeks and pulled his mouth to hers. ‘And it’s only a kiss.’

She touched her lips to his. His hands bracketed her hips and, for a second, she thought he would push her away, but then he groaned and tugged her closer, opening his mouth to let her in.

She sank her fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp. The kiss was hot, and tempting, the sweetness and need leaving her breathless. He broke away, his breathing ragged, but held her for a few minutes more, his nose buried in her hair.

‘Thanks, that was nice,’ he said, ridiculously formal and polite, but with the hint of dry humour.

She drew back, enjoying the amused twist on his lips. ‘It was entirely my pleasure.’ At least she’d managed to take the misery away for a moment. ‘I’ll be here when you get back. If you need someone to talk to, call.’

‘OK.’ He pressed the back of his hand to his lips, as if sealing in the sensation.

‘And don’t worry, I’ll cover for you with my mum when she calls.’

‘I can’t ask you to do that.’

‘You’re not asking.’ Lifting on tiptoes, she kissed him once more. The chaste peck one of affection, of understanding and reassurance, this time.

‘Thanks,’ he said again. Then left the room.