running on the current that is between us, this electricity that I’m feeling from being with Xander. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want it to end. I’m almost afraid if I leave, I’ll wake up, and this will all be some crazy dream.
And I don’t want it to be a dream.
Xander clears his throat. “Let me see what time it is. It has to be late.”
I nod yes, although all I want is to shake my head no. That I want to stay and keep talking and discovering him.
Xander gets up, taking our empty wine glasses with him. He moves over to the sink, and I swivel in my chair to watch him. He rinses them out, and I watch as he checks the neon numbers glowing on his microwave.
“It’s five past eleven,” he says. “I should get you a black cab.”
“Thank you,” I reply, rising from my seat.
Xander turns off the tap and dries his hands on a towel. He reaches for his phone on the worktop, and I watch as he begins swiping and texting. He waits, reads, types some more.
“Okay. My officer, Dave, will come here and escort you to the gate. He will get the black cab for you as well.”
I nod, thinking for the millionth time how weird this is. I’m being escorted by a royal protection officer to wait for a black cab.
After having dinner with Xander.
I rise from the table, and suddenly remember why I came over to the cottage in the first place. “Oh, I need my clothes,” I say.
Xander moves over to me, and now we’re inches apart. I once again detect that campfire scent on his skin, and I breathe it in, wanting to wrap myself up in it.
“Perhaps you can get them tomorrow,” he says, his voice low.
I don’t dare breathe. “Tomorrow?” I ask.
“I was thinking you could show me how to decorate a biscuit properly,” he says, staring down at me.
“Ice biscuits? That’s what you want to do?” I ask, shocked by his request.
“I want to see your world,” he says simply. “That’s an important part of your life.”
He dips his head a little closer to mine. My breathing grows rapid.
“Will you share that with me?” he asks, his voice a whisper.
I can feel the heat radiating off his body. My eyes dart to his mouth, which is now close to mine. My heart is pounding. My throat grows dry.
“Yes,” I manage to whisper back. “I’ll share that with you.”
Xander’s eyes lock with mine. “Thank you,” he murmurs.
An ache I have never known grows within me. I realise I want Xander to touch me. I want to feel his hands on my body. His breath on my cheek. His mouth against mine.
The need I have for this is both shocking and thrilling.
And only Xander Wales can fill it.
I instinctively lick my lips. His eyes zero in on my mouth.
Now, I internally plead. Touch me. Kiss me. Let me drink in your scent. Let me put my hands on your face and feel your stubble against my fingertips. Let me taste the pinot on your lips. Please.
Xander lowers his head. His hands find my waist, and I gasp from the sensation of feeling his hands on my body.
“Poppy,” he murmurs, his molten voice making me weak.
I feel his breath against my skin. I close my eyes. I can feel him move closer. My heart is pounding. I lift my head up a—
The doorbell rings, echoing loudly through the cottage.
My eyes flip open, and Xander takes a step back. I exhale, and he rakes his hand through his hair.
“Right, that’s Dave,” Xander says.
I nod. “Okay.”
“Remind me to sack him for being too bloody punctual.”
I laugh, thrilled that he wanted that kiss as badly as I did.
“Come on,” Xander says, extending his hand to me. “I’ll see you to the door.”
I stare down at it, then put my hand in his. The second I feel his fingers entwine around mine, electricity explodes through my body. He leads me down the hall, and as soon as he reaches the door, he lets go.
I grab my tote while he greets Dave. Then he turns to me, introducing me to his protection officer.
“Dave will see you back to the gate,” Xander says.
“Thank you,” I tell Dave.
“You’re welcome, miss,” he says.
“May we have a moment?” Xander asks, looking at Dave.
“Of course,” Dave says. He moves back up the path, to the gate, and waits for me from a distance.