No Strings Attached

Chapter Twelve

Her head was nestled beneath his chin, and she felt the deep, ragged breath that expanded his chest.

“Tell me you mean that in a ‘let’s start afresh’ kind of way, and not a ‘sweep it under the carpet never to be spoken of again’ kind of way,” he muttered tersely, “Because, quite frankly, I think I’d kill you if that’s what you’re saying.  I can’t take anymore of this.”

She was quiet for a long moment – pondering his question. Was that what she was asking of him? A new start?

She thought back to her meetings with Dr. Greenwood – and the light she’d thrown on their relationship.

She’d insinuated that Nate wasn’t good for her, and never would be – not outright of course, but it was there between the lines. A relationship so bound into sexuality, into touch and domination – maybe that wasn’t what she needed to be around – not on paper.

But she’d genuinely felt more connected to her body since that night at Asylum – as though she was centred in her lust for him.

It felt right physically – nothing had ever felt more overwhelmingly perfect than his body inside hers.

Who gave a shit what the text books would say about it?

“I think I am asking for a fresh start,” she whispered softly, nuzzling her head against his bare chest, “But we need to be slow about this. I can’t have you storming in and taking over – I need to get over all of this shit that’s in my head, and I can’t have you coming in and trying to heal it for me. I need to do this – for me. Do you understand?”

“I think I do,” he said slowly, his hand trailing over the curve of her hip, “And I’ll try, I promise I will. I just can’t bear to see you in this much pain.”

“It doesn’t hurt any more than it ever did,” she said softly, “Sometimes, when you’re here like this – it even ... I don’t know, goes away I guess, or fades into obscurity, like Chesney Hawkes.”

He sniggered quietly, his chest vibrating underneath her.

He began to sing ... badly.                                    

“I am the one and only!”

And she really did try everything from a groan, a hand over his mouth, and even a feeble slap on his chest.

But the only way she managed to shut him up was to pull his head down and cover up the awful tune with a kiss.

“What do you have to do today?”

“Not a lot,” she sighed, “Everything left here will be going home. I’ll sign the paperwork when I’m ready to go back I guess.”

“When were you planning that?”

“Tuesday? Why?”

“So you have no plans for the next two days?”

She’d already overstayed the four days she’d set aside, and wasn’t necessarily in any hurry to get home anyway – besides, Rory was still gallivanting on a three day bender.

“Not really.”

“And you have your passport with you, I’m assuming, for all the paperwork at the Solicitor’s?”

“What are you getting at?” she murmured, leaning back to look up at his mischievous face intently.

“Milan,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “Or at least I’m trying to get to Milan. Are you coming or what?”