He kissed her again – a featherlight brush of his lips to her forehead. ‘Let’s go.’
Clinging to his hand – squeezing it as she tried to slow her rapid breathing – she let him guide her to the deli’s front door.
Rhianne was there, ready and waiting with Rosie’s coat and bag. With no need for explanations, Rosie understood: she’d called her cousin so he could be here for their friend – because she knew that Rosie needed him.
She dropped Aled’s hand so she could shrug her jacket on, then hoisted her handbag up onto her shoulder. Still, she felt eyes on her – the watchful gaze of people who’d expected a pitiful meltdown, but instead were witnessing her make a dignified exit on the arm of a tall, dark and handsome man.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she took Aled’s hand again. She looked into his eyes, wordlessly communicating what she hoped he understood: that she was touching him for her own benefit, not theirs. Because she wanted to – needed to. Because she was so unbelievably tired ofnottouching him.
Out on the street where there was no one to see them, Rosie laced her fingers through his. She felt almost defiant – as though she was daring him to ask why, or what it meant.
Frost glittered on the pavement, making it slippery underfoot as they walked towards home. Winter was digging its heels in now, but the night was clear – the cold, cloudless sky filled with gently winking stars.
‘Thank you,’ Rosie said softly, as she and Aled made their way towards home.
‘What for?’ he asked, as Rosie pressed their palms together.
‘For doing what you always seem to,’ she replied. ‘For breaking my fall.’
Back inside the familiar surrounds of the flat, nothing felt the way it usually did.
They stood in the hallway beyond the front door, not sure where to go from here – or what to say. The air had that crisp, static quality that foreshadows a lightning storm, and every feeling in Rosie’s body had narrowed down to a single point: the place where her hand still held Aled’s.
He was waiting for her to let go – maybe even willing her to do it, since he didn’t seem able to himself. She wasn’t going to co-operate. Whatever mystery still lurked beneath the surface, Rosie knew Aled to be good. She trusted him. She wanted him. She wouldn’t blink first.
Perhaps for the first time in her life, she was prepared to risk choosing rather than wait and hope to be chosen. Her fear of rejection was less important than her need to be honest about what he’d come to mean to her. Expressing herself – giving in to these feelings – wasn’t something she believed she’d ever regret.
She was driven by instinct; tugged towards him by the gossamer-light string that connected them, that was urging closer, deeper coalescence. She could still feel the ghost of his lips on her face – the soft kisses that had been simultaneously comforting, soothing and possessive. She thrilled at the notion that he’d wanted James, and everyone else, to see them and understand: I’m hers and she’s mine, so don’t you dare fuck with her.
Aled shifted, twisting his body so he could look down at her. His eyes searched hers, penetrating and uncertain. She held his gaze, and his moment of hesitation felt like it lasted a million years.
When his self-restraint broke, it shattered. He bent down and kissed her, sighing his relief into her mouth. He pressed her back against the wall of the corridor, the length of his body flush against hers, the weight of him breathtaking.
She pushed up and into him, needing him to know how much she wanted this. She opened her mouth, tangling her fingers in his dark hair as the kiss deepened and became more urgent.
Aled trailed gentle kisses along her jawline, up to her left ear. ‘I’ve been dying to do this since the moment I saw you in that red dress,’ he confessed.
Rosie shivered, thinking about their dance at the wedding reception – the way his hands had lingered on the silk of her skirt, the way they’d set her skin alight without even touching it. ‘Oh,’ she murmured, ‘yes. Me too.’
His mouth met hers again, hungry and eager. He pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, and Rosie made a sound she’d never have thought herself capable of.
Aled’s hands found their way inside her coat, then past the bib of her denim overalls. His fingers drifted across the hem of the long-sleeved t-shirt she wore under them, then found the hot skin beneath.
Not to be outdone, Rosie pushed her hands up and underneath his sweater. He groaned.
‘Are you sure about this?’ he whispered. ‘It’s so soon after James. Are you sure you want me to be …this, to you?’
With no real idea what he meant, Rosie could only say, ‘Yes. Yes, please.’
‘All right, then,’ he said, half resigned, half ecstatic. As if she weighed nothing, he lifted Rosie clean off the floor. She clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist, arching closer and discovering that he needed her as much as she needed him.
‘Take me to bed,’ she breathed – words she’d never uttered before, and which she’d never felt the need to say. She was a mess of sensation, governed only by the desire to be closer to him.
She still had all her clothes on, but this was already the best sex of her life. As her mouth met his for the thousandth time, as they moved together, a voice in her head said:This is going to ruin you. You’ll never want another man again.
Rosie knew it was right, but she also didn’t care.
‘Are you certain?’ Aled asked, audibly grasping for his last shreds of self-control.