Call Me Cupid. Heidi Rice
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I’m taking you home,’ he said, stepping away and turning in the direction of the car park.
She tugged him back and delayed him with another swift kiss. ‘Not that way,’ she murmured huskily. ‘We can walk through the gardens and leave through the gate near the river. I only live a few minutes from there.’
Daniel thought of the modern apartment blocks on the other side of the river. Dark wood, white stucco and steel. They suited her perfectly. Stylish, modern, free from any clutter and complications.
They walked through the gardens in silence. Every now and then they paused to kiss—one moment with her pressed up against the rough bark of a tree, the next in the middle of a lonely path, beautiful vistas spreading out unseen around them in every direction. Each meeting of their bodies and lips grew more heated, more frantic. Daniel realised he needed to slow this down a little or he’d explode before they even reached the boundary of the park. As wonderful as making love to Chloe on the soft dark grass would be, if Security caught them they’d both be out of a job in the morning.
Finally they reached Brentford Gate and walked through the car park and along the tow path. The lights in the apartment blocks glinted temptingly across the water and he willed himself to last until they got there. However, it was only a few steps before Chloe stopped and turned.
‘Here we are,’ she said.
Daniel frowned and looked around. There were no houses here, just trees. Not even a path or a gate to a back garden, as there were farther up the tow path.
‘No...this way,’ she said softly and tugged at his hand. He turned one-eighty, but all he could see past the row of houseboats was the river, glinting gold and silver from the moon and the streetlights on the far bank.
Houseboats...
He stopped looking at the water and turned his attention back to Chloe. ‘Here?’
‘Come aboard,’ she said, pulling his hand and heading down a narrow gangplank to a double-storey boat with a flat roof, decorated with enamel buckets full of summer flowers.
He was a little confused at first. This really wasn’t the sort of place he’d pictured her living in. It was charming enough, but it wasn’t slick and luxurious like Chloe herself. However, he quickly decided he didn’t really care where she lived. That she was actively dragging him inside was the important thing, surely?
He followed her down into the cabin, and the interior was as much of a surprise as the outside. Half of the top deck was a living-dining-kitchen area with vast square windows one end that led onto a railed deck.
No clean lines and minimalist furniture here. It was a riot of colour and texture. Two purple velvet sofas that didn’t match, embroidered and bejewelled cushions in pinks, reds and oranges. Bookcases lined one wall, full of not only gardening books and paperbacks, but all other kinds of ornaments. And, of course, there were orchids. Various common varieties, but also some spectacular rarer ones too.
Chloe walked over to the kitchen and kicked off her shoes. ‘I’m afraid my drinks selection is rather sparse,’ she confessed. ‘Unless you’re really gasping for mineral water, it’s just white wine.’
He nodded. ‘That’ll do fine.’
He knew he should sound more enthused, but he couldn’t quite stop looking around Chloe’s living room. It wasn’t just that every corner held something that drew the eye, but that he felt something about it was significant. Something he was missing.
He walked over to the kitchen and took a glass she offered. Without her shoes on she was just that little bit shorter, which, for some strange reason, also made her seem younger.
‘I didn’t picture you living on a houseboat,’ he told her.
She smiled at him. ‘I always wanted to, ever since I was a student here and used to walk past them on my journey from Kew Bridge station. When I got the chance to rent one, I jumped at it.’
He took a sip of his wine. ‘Of course, I forgot you said you trained here. When was that? Our paths might have crossed. I’ve been doing specialist lectures here for what...maybe eight or nine years?’
Chloe suddenly found something very urgent to do in the fridge. She opened the door, blocking his view of her, and rummaged around inside.
Daniel smiled to himself. Possibly not. He’d certainly have remembered seeing someone like Chloe amongst the muddy hordes of horticultural students. She stood out in a crowd, wasn’t like the rest. That was what he liked about her.
Anyway, he was much more interested in the here and now. Chloe was still leaning into the large retro-style fridge and he walked up behind her and slid his hands around her waist. Whatever she’d been looking for in there obviously hadn’t been very important, because she stood up, let the fridge door bang closed and turned to face him, her face serious, her pupils wide.
He dipped his head low and kissed her. Softly, slowly. This had been a long time coming and he didn’t want to rush things. Strangely, it seemed as if he were kissing her for the first time. Maybe it was this place—or this slightly shy and nervous Chloe—that made him feel as if this were all fresh and new.
Whatever it was, he decided both of them were wearing far too many clothes, even though, including lingerie, Chloe must have only had three garments on. Heat flooded through him. He didn’t care which one went first—each presented an interesting option—but something needed to go, and it needed to go now.
He’d never been one for noting clothes designers, but he blessed the man, because it had almost certainly been a man, who’d decided to put a long row of little hooks and eyes down the front of Chloe’s tight-bodiced floral dress. His fingers fairly itched at the thought of starting at the top and working his way down.
Maybe he was wrong about three garments. Maybe a little exploration in that department would yield even richer results. He’d been kissing her neck, hands roving her back, and now he moved on to either side of her waist, then he picked up and deposited her on the kitchen counter. She ran her hands up his chest and into his hair, pulling him back to kiss her on the mouth, pulling him closer and hooking her lower calves around his thighs to keep him there.
In Daniel’s experience, some women let a man take charge completely when it came to the physical stuff but he much preferred it if there was equality, give and take, when they got to this moment. So he liked the fact that Chloe not only responded to him but spurred him on, took him in new and unexpected directions.
Even better, he could tell by the way she threw her head back and closed her eyes, the little noises she made in the back of her throat, the unchoreographed motions of her hands, that none of this was rehearsed moves or seductive tricks. She was totally lost in the moment, and this response that had his clothes feeling three sizes too small was just pure Chloe.
He pulled away from kissing her to focus his eyes on the top of her dress. The hooks were tiny. He could’ve undone them by touch alone, but he wanted to see her, every perfect inch, when he reached low enough to uncover what was underneath.
Chloe was kissing his face, and when she felt the pads of his thumbs graze the upper curve of her breasts as he reached for the first hook she made a sharp intake of breath and held it. Her legs hugged him tighter, pulling him as close as he could possibly get still clothed.
Daniel suddenly questioned the hook-by-hook approach. What idiot made something so small and
fiddly? He was really tempted to just start ripping.
Chloe fidgeted again, but this time she placed her hands lightly on his chest. ‘Daniel...’ she whispered.
He leant in and began to tease her ear lobe with his tongue. ‘Uh-huh?’
There was a little bit of a push behind those palms now. He drew back, confused. Were they both not on the same track? Had he read her wrong somehow?
But the pink flush creeping up her creamy skin from breasts to face told him he’d been reading the situation just right.