Jules Wake - Peony Place

‘Yes.’ Victoria Park was the jewel in the crown of Churchstone, a proper municipal park with regimented borders bursting with colour in every season, well-lit with traditional iron curlicued lamps that guarded the wide paths like benign sentries.

I gave him a considering appraisal, enjoying taking another look at his body. My libido purred into life and I had to force my hands down by my sides and fight against the sudden urge to smooth my fingers over the jersey fabric covering his chest.

‘I bet you could fight off any marauding teenagers. I wouldn’t normally walk through there at this time of night.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.’ To my surprise, he took my hand and squeezed it in an old-fashioned sort of gesture. And he didn’t let go. He laced his fingers between mine and we began to walk, hand in hand, towards the park.

Those wretched butterflies had taken flight again and were getting in a right old tizzy at the touch of his warm skin on mine and the way our forearms bumped as we walked. When we entered the cool seclusion of the park, lit by the pools of lamplight, cedar scenting the air with its distinctive pencil-shaving smell, it felt as if there were magic in the air. An almost-full moon painted the trees silver and bathed the shrubs in a soft light. Conscious of our solitude, the slow pace of his footsteps in tandem with mine, and the warm caress of his hand, my mind went into overdrive. What if he invited me back for coffee? I didn’t want the evening to end. I’d want to say yes, but everyone knew what that meant. But if I said yes but didn’t plan to sleep with him, should I say so at the outset? Then there’d be no confusion. No expectation.

‘I haven’t decided yet whether I’m going to sleep with you,’ I mused out loud. We’d been honest with each other throughout dinner and I wanted it out there, up for discussion.

‘I wasn’t aware I’d asked you to,’ he responded, his voice deep and smooth.

‘No, I know, but we’re both thinking about it.’

He’d stopped under one of the lamps, the light casting shadows over his face. Amusement danced in his eyes.

‘Does that mean you want to?’ he asked, with a lift of that eyebrow again. He was a cocky sod.

‘Yes, but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea or not.’ Thank goodness in the monochrome light, he couldn’t see my blush because, as forthright as I sounded, I was only being like this because I really did fancy him and since the first day I met him there’d been that innate, if somewhat combative, honesty between us. ‘I’m still trying to work out if you’re a… womaniser,’ I paused to select the word. I also wanted to know whether he habitually slept around. He was certainly good-looking and confident enough to. I bet he had plenty of offers.

Over dinner there’d been no mention of previous relationships and I hadn’t wanted to probe. Was it because I didn’t want to be disappointed in him? Because I wanted to preserve the mystery about Ashwin Laghari? No one could deny he was gorgeous but he did seem to take it for granted. His arrogance was based on self-confidence and ability rather than vanity.

‘What do you think?’ he asked without any nuance in his voice. I knew he wanted honesty as much as I did.

‘I’d like to think not but… the good-looks fairy certainly spent a lot of time in your department and with the city-boy lifestyle there’s a certain reputation.’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t have time for one relationship let alone more than one. Or were you asking if I’m predilected towards one-night stands?’

‘I guess, yes. I was also trying to determine when you last slept with someone? Last night? Last week? Last month? Last year?’

An unexpected stab of jealousy pricked at the thought of him in bed with someone else.

‘Ah. You want to know if I sleep around.’ His eyes narrowed and a smile danced around his lips. ‘Do you?’

‘No. I pride myself on this thing called self-respect but…’ I gave him a superior look. ‘If I want to sleep with someone, I’m not ashamed of it.’

‘Good for you. I don’t sleep around,’ he smirked. ‘Not so sure about the self-respect. I’m fussy.’ He gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘I’m very choosy about who I sleep with. I don’t like going back to strange places. Unknown quantities. I like places to be clean and tidy. And I don’t like taking people back to my place.’

‘Clean bedsheets,’ I quipped. ‘No hair in the shower.’

He gave me a sharp glance, as if I were taking the piss. I held up my hands. ‘I’m serious. I’m a neat freak and I like things to be clean, especially bed sheets.’ I shuddered. ‘I shared a flat with a girl at university who didn’t wash her sheets for the whole term.’

‘That,’ said Ash. ‘Exactly that.’ He shot me an evil grin. ‘Sounds like we might be a match.’ There was unmistakable challenge in his words. ‘And to answer your question. At least six months ago. Can I ask you a question?’

‘Over a year ago,’ I said. ‘I’m choosy too.’ There, right back at you.

His lips quirked. ‘That wasn’t my question.’ For about the second time in ten minutes, I blushed scarlet to the very tips of my ears. I wasn’t anywhere near as sophisticated in the sexual-relationships department as I wanted to sound. That was the problem when you put everything into your career. Your sex life took the hit. Competent and confident in the boardroom, inexperienced and a bit daunted in the bedroom.

He took a step forward and put both hands on my waist, holding me gently, his eyes roving over my face, suddenly soft. ‘I was going to ask if I could kiss you?’

For all his arrogance, Ash completely had me with his softly voiced question. The bottom of my stomach fell away and all those pesky butterflies took flight, a cloud around me, brushing my skin with tingles of excited awareness.

His eyes held mine as I nodded, just the once, too fizzy to utter a word. My heart pitter pattered like a crazy thing in my chest but outside everything seemed to freeze and stand still when his lips touched mine. I hardly dared breathe for fear of spoiling the perfect moment. It was a kiss so perfect, I knew I’d remember this moment in the pooling lamplight. Every second would be burned into my memory banks, sealed into its own little vault. Our noses didn’t bump. His teeth didn’t knock mine. His mouth wasn’t hard, pushing against mine. Featherlight, his lips skimmed in a barely-there kiss. Our skin brushed lightly. I slid my arms around his neck, wanting to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin under my fingertips.

Then he lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine and he gave me a smile of such sweetness it completely tugged at my heart strings. I lifted my mouth to his and kissed him, feeling the hitch of his breath as my lips skated over his in gentle exploration, savouring the exquisite sensation of skin on skin. With a gentle exhalation, his fingers on my waist tightened and he pulled me closer, chest to chest, deepening the kiss.

After a while, we both pulled apart. I felt a little dazed.

‘That was quite a kiss, Coffee Girl.’

‘You’re quite a kisser, Ashwin Laghari.’

He laughed and squeezed my waist. ‘No one ever calls me that, you know, but I rather like it when you do. You make me sound like some sexy magician.’

With those beguiling kisses he definitely had a touch of magic about him.

‘Would you like to come back to my place? I promise my sheets are clean.’ He held up a hand. ‘Not because I was hoping to score tonight… I thought you might be too much of a ballbreaker.’

‘Charming. What changed your mind?’

‘Because inside, I think we have a lot more in common than either of us would like to admit. And, just for the record, I always do my laundry on Saturday.’