Happy Hour (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 26

After a couple of stops in the glen so I can take some photos, we pull into the hotel car park. 

"This is nice," Chris says, gazing up at the building. 

"Yep." I pull my bag out of his boot. "It's recently been renovated so they reached out to a couple of bloggers to see if they wanted a free stay in exchange for a review. Luckily I was one of them."

"I'm in the wrong job," he laments, but he's smiling. He then insists on carrying my stuff for me.

"Emilia McManus," I give my name at reception. We're passed two keycards for the room. 

"I'm going to have to get some photos of the room before we . . . Before it starts looking lived in," I tell Chris as we walk up the stairs. I cringe to myself, I was so close to saying "before we mess it up."

"Got it," he nods, standing back as I push the bedroom door open. He carefully places our bags at the side of the room. "Wow."

"Nice, eh?" I grin at him. There's a massive four poster bed in the middle of the room. I'm a massive fan. He leans against the wall as I start to snap photos. 

"It's funny. Until last week I had no idea that your name was Emilia," he muses. "Literally no clue. Kirsty always called you Em. I assumed it was short for Emma or Emily."

"Nope, and I hated the name growing up." I push my hair out of my eyes and glance at him. "I just insisted everyone call me Em until it stuck."

"I like it." He's watching me through half-closed eyes, lit up by the sun. "Emilia is a pretty name. Need to add that to my list." The last sentence is murmured under his breath but I still catch it as I take one last photograph. I put my camera down and turn to him. 

"Your list?"

He blushes. Hesitates, then moves over to sit down on the bed. "Shit, this is comfy!" He says, lying down and staring at the ceiling. He flaps his arms and legs around on the bed, effectively making snow angels. "Come and join me!" He beckons me over.

He's absolutely right, holy comfort Batman! But his childish antics are not going to distract me.

"What list are you talking about?" I ask.

He groans. "It's embarrassing," he says. "I had a list of facts, when we were young. Facts I knew about you, things I learned about you. You know, mainly stuff I overheard while I was busy giving you dirty looks across the room."

"You did?" 

He nods. "It was a bit silly but I just wanted to know you better."

"It's not that silly," I say. "I had a list too."

"Really?" He rolls onto his side and props himself up on his elbow.  He grimaces. "Fuck, it's like we thought we were tragic star-crossed lovers or something."

"Isn't it?" I snort, although I'm secretly quite pleased that he had a list about me too. I mirror his pose so I'm face to face with him "So what was on the list? Given you managed to miss off my real first name, and the fact I'm blind as a bat, I'm intrigued to know what you actually did find out about me." I'm teasing, but I really do want to know. 

He traces a line down the side of my face and down the side of my neck, his finger lingering there, stroking back and forth with barely there tenderness. The lightness of his touch is reminiscent of our very first kiss. He watches my face with apparent fascination as I shiver. "You're beautiful," he says softly. "Which was the first item on my list, obviously. But then any idiot just has to look at you to know that."

"Aw shucks." It's my turn to make a face. I've never been good with compliments. And I'm too preoccupied with what Chris is currently doing to my body to really take it on board anyway. He's distracting me in the best possible way. 

The touch moves lower, skirting my throat and drifting down until it's at the top of my chest, still light as a feather. I'm wearing a strappy sundress but even though it's pushing 20 degrees, I'm rapidly turning into a giant goosebump. It's that Chris prickle effect.

"What else, what else?" He turns his face up to the ceiling again, like he's thinking, but at the same time he's skilfully edging my strap down and freeing one of my breasts.

"You're loyal to a fault." He grazes my nipple with his index finger, as I gasp at how ridiculously sensitive it is. "Kirsty was always talking about what a good friend you were. Although it feels wrong talking about my sister while I'm trying to feel you up, so we'll move on," he says. That irresistible husky chuckle escapes his mouth and my nipple stiffens at the sound. Oops, and there goes the other one, even though it's still contained within the fabric of my dress. I would be embarrassed if I wasn't just way too turned on to care.

"If you really need to cry you watch the last hour of Titanic." He kisses the edge of my mouth while his fingers tweak my nipple and I almost spontaneously combust.

We're both quiet for a moment, lying there with rays of afternoon sunshine washing over us. His hand still on my breast, his breath caressing my face.

"You can't decide whether you're a cat or dog person, and it annoys you that society forces you to pick a side." He smooths his hand down my dress, hooking a finger under the hem and starting to inch it up while he briefly swipes across my nipple with his tongue.

"I got over that one eventually," I say breathlessly. "Decided dogs were superior." 

"Good choice." He looks into my eyes, his pupils so dilated I can barely see the hazel of his iris anymore. "You seem to like everybody . . . Well, apart from me," he says quietly. Returning to his list. And resuming his task of bunching my dress up. 

"Well you now know you couldn't be further from the truth with that one if you tried," I say shakily.

"There were a lot of other points on my list," he says, his voice even softer now.. "But I can't remember all of them; for some reason they've all flown clear out of my mind right now." He laughs lightly and slips a finger between my pants and my skin. "I do recall one more though, and it's still true."

"What is it?" I ask, although I think already know. 

He dips his head to kiss me right as his fingers edge inside me, eyes black with desire. "I want you so much," he whispers.