His Innocent Seduction Page 15

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘That’s not what this is.’

  My heart pounds.

  ‘I think that’s exactly what this is.’

  ‘No.’ She stands, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. ‘This has already got away from us.’ When she speaks, it’s with clinical detachment. It’s easy to imagine her as a doctor, someone who has to deliver bad news. ‘It was meant to be one night. A quick fuck. Me losing my virginity. And while everything else has been...amazing...and it has been, Michael... I will always be grateful to you for the last few weeks...’

  ‘Grateful?’ I see red. My temper spikes and my breath is loud, but I stand rigidly still. ‘You’re grateful to me?’

  She doesn’t react visibly. ‘Yes. You’ve made this whole thing so incredibly special, and I’ll never forget you. But you know how I feel about this. About boundaries and parameters and how necessary they are.’

  ‘You’re here for two more days, Millie. I’m not asking you to move in with me, or marry me. I’m just asking you to be...here.’

  ‘I know that. I’m saying no.’

  Jesus Christ. Everything inside me protests. I need her not to dig her heels in about this.

  I want her to stay. I need her to stay. But I’m not my father. I will never be him. I’m not going to force her, nor pressure her. She’s saying no. I owe it to her to listen to that.

  ‘Fine.’ I shrug, like it doesn’t matter. ‘But you’ll come back tonight?’

  She hesitates and I feel like my nerves are about to snap.

  Then she smiles. ‘For a few hours.’ She nods. ‘And I expect you to make the most of them.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I MADE THE right decision. I know I did. The rush of temptation that consumed me when he asked me to spend my last two days in Ireland here, with him, was all the reason I needed to leave.

  Because Michael is quicksand. If I stand still for long enough around him, I’ll sink into him for ever. I won’t let that happen. I won’t let myself down like that, I won’t let Mum down like that. This trip...this adventure...it means everything to me.

  I made the right decision, but sitting here now, propped up in his bed, listening to the shower running, knowing this is the last morning we’ll have together, knowing he’ll go to work soon and I’ll be heading to the airport, my throat is thick with tears.

  I shouldn’t have come over here this morning. I should have stayed at the flat, sent him a goodbye text. He’s supposed to be convenient sex! A fling!

  My eyes sting and I dip my head forward. This isn’t about Michael. I’m emotional because of Mum. Because I’m moving on to Paris, the place we talked about over and over, the place she most desperately wanted to see. How can I not be an emotional mess?

  I need to concentrate on how exciting this is, to visualise myself stepping off the plane into French air, breathing in Paris, wandering through the cobbled streets, eating by the Seine. All of the things that have been calling to me for years.

  ‘Your suitcase is packed?’

  He steps out of the bathroom wearing only a towel, wrapped low at his hips. I stare at him unashamedly—I won’t get to feast my eyes on him like this again. Something grips in my chest cavity. ‘Yeah. It’s at my place. I’ll grab a cab back there...soon.’

  His frown flashes across his features. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I kind of need it to go to Paris?’

  He smiles—a tight smile. He grabs some clothes out of his huge wardrobe, jeans he pulls on without jocks. Then a sweater. Casual clothes?

  ‘I mean, why would you catch a cab?’

  ‘Isn’t it self-evident?’

  ‘I’ll drive you.’

  ‘I thought you were going to work.’ That’s why I came to his place so early—because I needed him. I wanted him. I craved him, and I know his schedule like clockwork now.

  ‘It’s Sunday. I think I can take the day off, don’t you?’

  Something like delight curls my insides. I suppress it. ‘Don’t do that.’

  A muscle jerks in his jaw. ‘Stop fighting me on shit like this, Millie.’ His face is serious, like a thunderstorm. ‘Of course I’m going to spend these last few hours with you. Run you around. Get you to the airport.’

  But it’s moving into relationship territory and I swear I won’t cloud this, won’t cloud my plans.

  ‘It changes nothing,’ he says, holding out a hand to me.

  Reluctantly, I step out of bed and move to him, completely unselfconscious with my nakedness, even when his eyes roam my body slowly, with seductive intent.

  He wraps an arm around me, holding me to his body, and flames leap inside me. For the briefest moment I wonder what it would be like if I wasn’t going. If this wasn’t temporary. If there hadn’t been a time limit on whatever we’re doing, right from the start.

  But isn’t it more likely that the temporary nature of this is what’s made it so damned hypnotic, so utterly enticing?

  Of course that’s it. There’s something freeing about not having to think about the future, to worry about an endpoint.

  Something illicit, somehow.

  I don’t have any doubts about what I’m doing, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel...something. I lift my eyes to his and something catches in my chest. I’m going to miss you. I don’t say the words aloud. They’re not appropriate. But I think them; I feel them heavy in my chest. I think them, and I know them to be true. A little bit of me is going to miss Michael Brophy, probably every day, and for a lot of days to come.

  But adventure awaits, exploration, freedom—the future. The future I promised my mum I’d reach out and grab with both hands, and nothing’s going to get in the way of that.

  * * *

  Tell her not to go.

  Tell her you’ll come to Paris.

  Tell her...something. Anything, you fucking idiot. Pull your finger out and...

  ‘This is a bit different to the last flight I took,’ she jokes as we approach the automatic ticket machines. She pulls her phone out, loading up her boarding pass, her eyes lifting to mine. I lift my own phone from my pocket, show her my own ticket. It’s to Prague.

  ‘You’re going to Prague?’ she asks, confusion on her face.

  ‘No. I’m going to gate eighty-eight with you.’

  ‘Michael.’ She shakes her head. ‘You bought a ticket just so you can come through Security?’

  I shrug.

  ‘Of course you did. You didn’t have to—’

  ‘I know.’ I swallow. ‘I wanted to. Come on.’

  Her passport is clutched in her hand, fresh and unmarked, bright blue and new. It’s so symbolic of her, and this, of her innocence and inexperience. She’s smart and funny, kind and interesting, but she’s been nowhere, seen nothing, and the world will change her, mark her, grow her. I don’t know how anyone can live without seeing the world first.

  Of course she has to do this.

  Of course I have to let her do this. She slips her phone away. ‘Did you hear me?’

  ‘Oh, right, yeah.’ I look towards the security gate. ‘You could have used my jet, of course. You can use it. Any time.’

  Her cheeks flush. ‘That’s okay, I booked the flight ages ago. It’s non-refundable.’

  I nod slowly.

  ‘Besides, it’s Air France; they’ll start speaking French as soon as I board. Like a little slice of Paris, up in the sky.’

  Her enthusiasm is a blanket, dampening me, pressing down on me weightily.

  ‘Are you in court next week?’

  Small talk? Seriously?

  ‘No.’ I reach for her hand, linking my fingers through hers. What an ass I was in New York, thinking this felt awkward. I squeeze her fingers in mine, a billion words running through my brain. I’m unusually lost for w
ords.

  ‘I’d better go through Security.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘You’re coming?’ She lifts her face to mine and my chest explodes.

  ‘Yeah.’ Too gruff. Too serious. Jesus. She’s going to know something’s up. ‘Why not?’

  Casual. Easy.

  It seems to reassure her.

  There are a dozen queues. Ours moves quickly. I watch her covertly as she places her handbag in the tray, loading it with her things, smiles at the security attendant and walks through the arch.

  My gut contorts.

  I move after her.

  ‘Which gate?’ I prompt.

  ‘Eighty-eight.’

  I follow the signs, waiting for her to gather her bag and then put a hand in the small of her back.

  She doesn’t speak now, and nor do I. There is a heavy emotional resonance surrounding us.

  As we pass gate eighty our stride slows, until finally we’re at gate eighty-seven. Eighty-eight. I see a crowd of people at her gate. The Air France crew are starting pre-flight activity.

  She stops walking, looks up at me. I force myself to look at her, to hold her gaze, even when I feel like she’s digging her hand into my chest and ripping a piece of me out.

  I have to let her go.

  I’m not going to ruin this for her.

  Her smile is ambivalent. ‘Thank you,’ she says quietly. ‘For everything.’

  ‘Don’t thank me.’

  She pulls a face. ‘But you’ve been so helpful. Such an excellent teacher.’ She looks over her shoulder towards the gate, then back at me. ‘And now you can go back to your old life.’

  ‘What if I don’t want that?’

  Oh, shit.

  Confusion clouds her eyes. ‘What do you mean?’

  Can I wind this back? Take back what I said? No. Fuck it. No. Here, at the airport, I can’t do this. I can’t just let her go. ‘I mean, what if I don’t want you to leave, Millie? What if I want you to stay here, in Dublin, with me?’

  Her mouth opens wide, the colour dropping from her face. ‘Why?’

  She’s speechless, the idea something she apparently hasn’t even contemplated. I sigh heavily. ‘Because this is an arbitrary date. Because you booked your flights before you met me and, despite what you keep saying, everything’s different now. Everything’s changed.’

  She shakes her head, her eyes clashing with mine. ‘Michael...’

  ‘I’m not the same man who agreed to fuck you, like it meant nothing. And I’d bet my bottom dollar on you not being the same woman who asked a guy she didn’t know to take her virginity.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she whispers, hushed, angry. ‘You’ve changed me. This has changed me. I’ve grown and I’m... Everything’s different. But not this. I have to go. I have to do this.’

  ‘But you don’t want to,’ I say flatly. ‘You’re doing it because you planned it, and you feel like you have to. But what do you want, Millie?’

  She lifts her face towards mine, her chin defiant, her eyes sparking. ‘I want to go to Paris. I want to see the world.’

  ‘Like you promised your mother you would.’

  ‘Yes.’ She expels an angry sigh. ‘And like I promised myself I would. All those long nights nursing her, caring for her, my heart breaking—you know what it’s like, Michael. I know you do. When something is so bloody hard, and you have a talisman to pull you through it—that was this trip. This is what I promised myself I’d do, what I told myself would fix everything. I didn’t leave my life behind to get stuck in the first city I came to.’

  ‘Jesus, Millie. I don’t want to “stick” you. I want...’

  ‘What?’ She’s angry and her voice carries. People nearby turn to look at us. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want you to stay—I think you want to stay too. I want you to admit that to yourself, and me...’

  ‘No.’ She shakes her head, turns away from me and stalks towards the gate. I watch her go, my heart in my throat. Never in a billion years did I think our conversation would go like this. Hell, I didn’t think we’d have this conversation. Bright fucking idea.

  I follow her, and she whirls around.

  ‘I’ve had fun, but that’s all this is. Fun. And now it’s over.’

  ‘Bullshit, Millie. Don’t be so juvenile.’

  Her eyes widen and her cheeks glow pink.

  ‘You honestly think this is still just sex?’

  ‘Lower your voice,’ she demands, pressing her back against the wall and looking up at me.

  I shake my head, combing a hand through my hair.

  ‘What are you saying?’

  Yeah, great question. ‘I love you.’

  Whoa. Not in a billion years would I have thought those words would feel so incredible to say. She sucks in a harsh breath and her eyes fill with salty tears. Ordinarily, I’d say tears are bad, but maybe, just maybe, these are the good kind?

  She doesn’t say anything but that’s okay because arguing my case, persuading people, this is where I come into my own.

  ‘I’ve never said that to anyone before and I don’t plan on saying it to anyone else. I fell in love with you, Millie, even when all I thought this was going to be was sex. I thought we’d fuck and that would be it. But Millie, my God, you are in my blood, my breath, my heart, my all.’

  Her breathing is loud, raspy and her eyes are boring into me, awash with emotions I can’t decipher. Still, she doesn’t say a word and I need her to. I need to hear what she’s thinking, how she feels.

  ‘I love having sex with you but this is so much more than that. I love all of you. I love spending time with you, talking to you, laughing with you, waking up beside you. I love your world view, your optimism, your determination. I admire you, I adore you. I am completely and utterly obsessed with you. So I’m standing here in the middle of this airport asking you—begging you—not to go. Please. Stay here with me.’

  She sobs now, a noise that cracks my heart open, because it’s not a good sob and the tears running down her cheeks now don’t seem like happy tears. I drop my forehead to hers, our breath mingling, our bodies close, my hopes thick between us.

  ‘Stay because you love me too. Stay because the thought of getting on that plane and flying a thousand kilometres away from me feels all kinds of wrong.’

  ‘Damn it, Michael, don’t.’ She whispers the words, her plea.

  ‘Stay here with me,’ I say again, brushing my lips over hers, tasting her salty tears. ‘Stay here for ever...’

  Another sob.

  ‘Stay here. Move in with me. Live with me. Marry me. Spend every day with me, every night, all our nights.’

  ‘Michael.’ She shakes her head, lifting her hands to my shoulders, curving them there, and then she turns her head away, staring towards her gate. I don’t look. In my peripheral vision I can see people moving, a queue forming, but Millie has all my attention. I feel time slipping away from me. I feel Millie slipping away.

  ‘I love you.’ God, I’ve never said that before today and now it’s all I can think of.

  ‘Don’t. Stop it.’ She pushes me now, just enough to give her space, and then jerks her handbag onto her shoulder. ‘How can you say you love me on the one hand, but ask me to give up my dreams on the other?’

  My chest crushes because I thought I would never ask Millie to give anything up. ‘I’m asking you to accept that maybe this isn’t your dream.’ My voice sounds gravelly. ‘Maybe you want a new dream. Maybe that’s me. You and me.’

  ‘No!’ She shakes her head with vehemence. ‘You don’t get it. You don’t love me. You just think you do.’

  ‘I know what I feel.’

  ‘This is just because I’m leaving and you’re used to this now; you’re used to me. If I was staying, if we didn’t have this deadline in place from the minute
this started, you’d have fucked me and walked away. You could be relaxed with me because you knew this was temporary. My leaving was your escape clause.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say, shrugging. ‘Maybe that’s true. At least, maybe it was. But falling in love with you happened anyway.’

  ‘I guarantee if I stay, you’d change your mind.’

  ‘Do I strike you as someone who doesn’t know my own mind? My own fucking heart? I’m offering you all that I am, I’m asking you to share your life with me. Not a dirty weekend. I want this. For real.’

  She stares at me then and her tears fall down her cheeks and she keeps dashing them away, impatient with them, angry with me. ‘I don’t.’

  She’s so emphatic, so certain. But I don’t believe her. I can’t. I cup her cheeks, holding her face beneath mine and I kiss her gently, with love, all my love. I kiss her and she groans, kissing me back, her body fusing to mine, her hands curving around behind me, running the length of my spine. She kisses me and I kiss her because when we kiss everything makes sense again, and I know she can’t resist this, me, us.

  But she sobs and I can’t do this. I can’t hurt her and I am hurting her.

  ‘What do you want?’ I ask, but she’s told me, she’s said, and it’s so obvious.

  She sweeps her eyes shut and for a second I have hope. ‘I want to go to Paris and I want you to go back to your life.’

  ‘You want me to go back to my life? Like this never happened?’

  ‘No, not like it never happened.’ She lifts a hand to my chest. ‘It did happen and we’re both...different because of it. You’re right about that. Maybe you’ll stop sleeping with anyone in a skirt. Maybe you’ll meet someone and date them. Grow up and be in a relationship.’

  ‘Jesus. That is spectacularly unreasonable. This is a relationship.’

  Her jaw clenches. ‘This is a mirage. A safe space. You want me because you know you can’t have me.’

  ‘Not once have I given you any reason to think that of me,’ I refute immediately. ‘Not once.’ I take a step back from her. ‘You’re trying to justify pushing me away. Don’t. Don’t make yourself feel better by putting the blame on me.’