Hungarian Rhapsody by Antonia Adams

Author:Antonia Adams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2012-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

I THINK I EXPECT him to be back to the way he was before, the morning after. As though maybe I just dreamt all of the things that happened in the hot tub and in his bed, and now I’m going to see the real him again – cold and aloof and ready to hate me in new and interesting ways.

But he isn’t, at all. In fact, he’s so much the other way that for a moment I’m the one who feels nervous. If he keeps on being this relaxed and oddly attentive to me, James and Lucy are going to figure this out. I mean, James did see us getting awfully close, in the hot tub. And Artie is asking me if I’d like some more coffee, with my muffin.

It’s almost an innuendo, and one I don’t want them to work out – though I’ve got no idea why. It’s not like it’s embarrassing, that I spent last night winding my former worst enemy up into an orgasm that went on for about an hour. Or that he sort of tried to kiss me, afterwards, all soft and fumbling and not the way he seems at all.

God. God. I’m going weak-kneed just thinking about it. I daren’t look at him, because what if, you know? What if he does turn back into a jerk, suddenly, and I’m just left stranded on this weird island marked he called you gross, not that long ago?

It makes me a little prickly around him, though I don’t mean to be. And once I realise I’m behaving that way, I do stupid stuff to make up for it. I say things I wouldn’t have even said before, in my insane efforts to make him like me.

Such as:

‘Oh that’s a really cute music box.’

I mean, it is cute. This whole little antiques shop we seem to be stood in is cute, and we’re all having a stupendously cute time, driving around villages and eating ice-creams and doing all the things you’re supposed to, on vacation. But even so, it sounds weird and false and like I’m trying too hard.

Plus every time I talk to him now, I just flash back to a dozen little rude images. Like the way his knuckles had turned white when he’d gripped the sheet, and how soft his mouth had gone, when his orgasm overtook him. It makes me blush and I’m pretty sure he can see it, but that’s not what I find myself concentrating on.

Instead, I can’t help marvelling at how close he suddenly gets to me, or how weird it feels for him to be so sweet and sincere about something stupid I’ve said.

‘That is cute,’ he says, and when he does he actually puts a hand on my back. I feel every inch of it practically prickling through my jersey, and though he isn’t looking at me I know he wants to. He’s paying far, far too much attention to a music box, for someone who looks as suddenly lust-stoked as he does.

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