Cock & Bull - Laura Barnard Page 0,74

laugh so hard and naturally. I feel special that I can make him, even if he is laughing at me.

‘Oh, Poodles. What am I going to do with you?’ He looks up at me, his gaze quickly turning from amusement to dark pools of lust.

My chest heaves up and down. I hope he thinks it’s from all of the running and not me perving all over him. I clench my legs together, trying to ease the tingling between them. It only pulls his groin up towards me.

He reaches his hand up and clasps my cheek. I melt like a puddle into it. He leans up at the same time as I lower myself. We meet in the middle, our mouths crashing together like we’re starving for oxygen and each other provides the only chance of survival.

Our tongues dance like they were created just for each other. My heart starts to ache when he runs his hands through my sticky yellow smeared hair.

What am I doing? This guy doesn’t do relationships and not only that, but I’m planning on leaving. Packing up and moving back to England as soon as we manage to sell. Nothing can ever be between us.

I put my hand on his chest and begrudgingly push him away.

He looks up at me, his brows knitted together. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ Even though I want nothing more.

‘Why not?’ He pouts, cutest thing ever.

I sigh sadly. ‘Because I’m a relationship girl and you’re not a relationship guy. I just think its best we stop this now, before one of us gets hurt.’ I won’t let him know I’m bound to be the one. I can’t risk injuring my heart again. Not after Garry. I already know I have far stronger feelings for Clooney, so it would sting twice as hard.

‘But… we have something between us, right?’ He takes my jaw in his hands. ‘Why deny ourselves?’

He’s clearly never denied himself anything before, especially pleasure.

‘Because we’d never work,’ I admit, my chest tight at having to voice our sad reality. ‘There’s no point getting involved physically if we can’t ever be together. I just think its best we stay as friends.’

He sighs, sitting up. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘I am.’ I nod, sitting back onto my heels. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.

‘But…’

‘But what?’ I ask far too eagerly. Does he have a plan? Is he willing to commit? To follow me back to England?

He splats a paintball into my cheek. ‘Sorry, Poodles, but you deserved that one.’

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The minute I get back in the car dead girl starts again. I’d actually forgotten about her.

‘Finally! If you could just stop kissing Clooney for five minutes, we might actually get somewhere.’

The bloody cheek of her! Spying on me. Then I think of all of the potential ghosts watching us at any given time. Eww, do they watch me in the bath? Gross. What if there is such a thing as ghost perverts? What if they saw what me and Clooney did in the bath? My cheeks heat just at the idea.

‘She lives just down Drum Road.’

‘Straight home?’ Clooney asks as he straps in his seat belt, half dried paint still in his hair. Oh how I’d love to get him in the shower and scrub him clean.

‘Erm, yeah.’ How do I word this? ‘Actually I have to run an errand.’

‘Really? Where?’

‘Oh, just down Drum Road,’ I answer vaguely looking out of the window. ‘I’ll get a cab when I get back.’

‘Well that’s on our way home. I’ll come with you.’

‘Great news!’ Ghost lady cheers in delight.

Not great news. I don’t want him knowing what a freak I am. It was close enough at that wedding.

‘No, honestly,’ I insist with a polite smile. ‘I’ll just take a taxi. I think its best I just do it on my own.’

He frowns at me, quirking one eyebrow. ‘Why?’

I grimace. Quickly Phoebe, think of something you have to do by yourself. It’s a residential house, nowhere near a shop, so buying something isn’t an option.

‘What is it exactly that you need to do?’ He presses, each minute passing taking us closer to Drum Road.

‘Um… I…’. I literally can’t think of anything. Why am I such a shit liar? Being raised around rainbows and butterflies did nothing for this very vital life skill.

‘What, Phoebe? Why all the secrecy?’ His eyebrows bunch together, his jaw tense.

‘Oh, just tell him,’ ghost lady says. ‘Clooney’s got an open mind. He might believe you.’

‘No way,’ I accidentally blurt out.

‘No way what?’