Page 69 of A Dark Fall
He looks at me, frowning slightly. “What?”
“Dawn.” I incline my head. “Afterward. You never called her, did you?”
He thinks about it for a moment, and I’m sure he’s going to deny it, but then he shakes his head. Gives a half-shrug.
“Nah, I didn’t call.” He’s watching me carefully. I nod, and he takes a step toward me. “It was months ago. It only happened once. Never shit on your own doorstep, they say.”
“Well, Miss Nuts Magazine there is still into you.”
Another shrug. “Yeah, well ...”
“So that’s your usual type then?” I ask, then I immediately curse myself. Why do I need to know that? The question came from nowhere of substance; it popped into my head and then out of my mouth.
He closes the distance between us and lowers his lips almost to mine. “Baby, I’ve never had a type until you,” he says quietly.
My cheeks feel warm, and I can’t help but let out a soft laugh. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, it is.”
He leans in to kiss me then. Deep and warm and slow. The kind of kiss that feels like foreplay. When the door opens on a ding, he recovers far faster than I do, and he has to pull me out behind him because I’m still dazed.
He leads me down a long brick hallway with a polished wood floor and a floor to ceiling window at the far end, through which I see Tower Bridge. We come to a stop at a shiny copper door with the number 10/1 etched into it, and he unlocks it and leads me inside.
“Go through,” he says, gesturing for me to go ahead. Behind me, I hear him lock the front door.
My first thought is that his place is like something out of a stylish living magazine. Large and open, the ceiling lower in the kitchen before the lounge and dining area open up into a double-height mezzanine level behind me. A black wrought iron spiral staircase is visible past the kitchen. Straight ahead is a large corner window, floor to ceiling, with an impressive view of the docks and bridge. The kitchen to my left is all white gloss and stainless steel, completely modern and utterly spotless. The living area looks comfortable and stylish too, with a large dark brown leather corner sofa and a huge flat-screen TV on the exposed brick wall. In the far corner, I see an acoustic guitar and amplifier.
I turn back to him, eyes wide. “You play the guitar?”
“Fuck, I wish,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m teaching myself. I’m terrible at it.”
I wonder if he’s being humble again. Like when he said he’s not interesting. I turn back around to look at where the staircase goes and can only assume it’s to his bedroom.
God, this place must be worth a fortune. The London club scene definitely pays. When I turn back to look at him, he’s leaning against the wall by the kitchen watching me, a strange, almost distant look on his face.
“I’m impressed.” I smile. “You have a really beautiful place.”
He pushes up off the wall and comes toward me. “Yeah, well, it never normally looks this good.”
I flush and shake my head as he pulls me into him, dipping his head and kissing me slowly, deeply. I loop my arms up over his shoulders to stroke the back of his short, cropped hair as his mouth moves over mine, tasting, teasing. God, will I ever tire of kissing him? Not likely.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, pulling back and licking his lips.
“I’m glad I’m here too. Thanks for inviting me.”
He presses his mouth to mine again. “Lemme give you the tour,” he says, moving behind me. He rests his chin on my shoulder and wraps his arms around my body, raising a hand to point as he turns me. “Kitchen, living room, and spare room. Door down there on the right is the bathroom.”
“This place is worryingly tidy, Jake,” I remark with some awe. “Please tell me you didn’t spend all day cleaning ...” I can’t believe how immaculate it is. So neat and spotless. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I don’t think it was this. He’s surprised me again.
“Nah, I have someone who helps.”
I spin around to face him. “Oh my god, you have a cleaner?”
He nods, apparently confused. “She comes in twice a week. She was here this morning. I’ll tell her you like her work.”
“So here was me thinking you were just an exceptionally tidy man, and instead, it was some poor woman who made it look like this.” I laugh.
“Oh, don’t feel sorry for her. I pay her fucking well.” He’s grinning as he reaches out to take my hand and pull me toward the stairs.