One Night with Her Ex

by Lucy King

  ‘You don’t look fine.’

  ‘Leave it, Lily.’

  ‘I don’t think I can,’ she said. ‘You really don’t seem well.’

  ‘I’ll survive.’

  Once he was out of here and out of her head-wrecking orbit and once he had time and space to work out what was going on he’d be absolutely fine.

  Probably.

  Galvanising into action, Kit grabbed his coat and began to shrug it on.

  ‘Wait,’ she said urgently. ‘Was it something I said?’

  The concern in her voice only made him feel even more confused. ‘No.’

  ‘Something I did, then?’

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw her frown and bite her lip and he gritted his teeth against the urge to throw himself on top of her and kiss the life out of her.

  This was horrendous. Why her? Why now? he wondered, his head pounding. He’d met dozens of women over the last few years. Beautiful, intelligent, fun women. Many just as attractive as Lily. Some even more so. So what the hell was happening here?

  ‘It was something I did,’ she said, leaping to her feet and taking a step towards him, potentially so close that he violently recoiled before she could touch him.

  ‘Don’t,’ he snapped.

  Lily froze. She paled. Frowned. Then said a bit shakily, ‘What’s going on, Kit?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Why wouldn’t she shut up and let him get on with the business of leaving?

  ‘Rubbish.’

  Kit ignored her. She could be as sceptical as she liked. He didn’t care. He was off.

  Not bothering with buttons, he whirled round and made for the way he’d come in, but before he could stride down the hall, through the front door and out into the safety of the dark, cold night Lily had whipped past him and planted herself between him and escape.

  He stopped in his tracks while she stuck her hands on her hips and set her jaw, a stance he’d never seen before but suggested she wasn’t going to let him go without an explanation. Which he was damned if he was going to give, so if she didn’t budge he’d just have to lift her out of the way.

  ‘Move, Lily.’

  ‘No,’ she said, her chin up and her eyes glinting in the soft, low light of the hall. ‘You show up in the early hours of New Year’s Day, make a big deal about wanting to talk and then suddenly you don’t want to talk? You’re making me worried and I won’t let you leave when you’re in this sort of state. So come on, what gives?’

  Now, clearly, was the time to march forwards, physically lift her aside and make his escape, thought Kit with the one brain cell that was still functioning rationally.

  But that would mean being near her, laying his hands on her, he reasoned with the part of his brain that was addled with lust, and once that happened he wouldn’t be lifting her out of the way, but pulling her close, backing her up against the door and divesting her of her clothing.

  Shoving his hands through his hair, he cursed whatever madness had made him think that seeking Lily out had been a good idea.

  And then, beneath his breath, he cursed her because why the hell was she making such a big deal about this? Why wasn’t she just letting him leave? Why did she care what was going on inside his head?

  Come to think of it, why was he making such a big deal about this? Why was he getting so wound up by what was happening to him?

  He ought to be glad his problem seemed to be solved, that he was ‘cured’. He ought to be thanking her and heading to the nearest bar in search of someone with whom he could make up for lost time. Or calling Carla, perhaps.

  And so what if he was still attracted to Lily? There was nothing surprising about that. The chemistry that had existed between the two of them had always been instant, fiery and intense. Even towards the end of their relationship when they’d been too battered by what had happened between them to want to act on it, it had still been there, simmering away in the background.

  But what if what he was feeling towards Lily now was more than mere sexual chemistry? Something deeper?

  Kit froze as the idea of this stormed into his mind and opened up a whole labyrinth of other possible truths.

  What if the problem he’d had sleeping with other women in the last five years didn’t have anything to do with guilt or regret or self-recrimination? What if it was down to the fact that he was still hung up on his ex-wife?

  He’d assumed he’d got over Lily years ago. But from the moment they’d met she’d got under his skin and been in his blood, like some kind of fever, the sort that was quick, fierce and lethal. And incurable. So maybe she was still there. In his blood. Under his skin. Tucked away in some long-forgotten corner of his heart.

  Maybe that was why he’d kept vague tabs on her. Maybe that was why the idea of her having a boyfriend bothered him so much. Why he’d wanted to remind her of the good times they’d had together and had deliberately if obliquely brought up that afternoon in the woods.

  Maybe she still felt something too, he thought, his heart hammering while his mind churned. Hadn’t she flinched when she’d let him in? Hadn’t her eyes darkened and her cheeks reddened when he’d alluded to the al fresco sex?

  Despite the cool-as-a-cucumber air she was exuding now, despite the defiant stance, he could hear a slight shallowness to her breathing and he could just about make out a familiar faint flush to the skin of her upper chest. There was also a flicker of heat in her eyes that he didn’t think was solely down to her wish to know why he was here.

  So maybe, as chemistry didn’t seem to have a time limit any more than it had anything to do with liking and trust, she was still as attracted to him as he was to her. Maybe it was something more for her too, despite the existence of a boyfriend.

  Maybe he ought to think about finding out.

  With his common sense spinning off into the distance and his head swimming with need, Kit abandoned what little remained of his self-control and took two steps towards her.

  He stopped half a foot in front of her, so close he could smell her scent, could feel her heat, could feel himself helplessly begin to respond to the magnetism that had always pulled at them.

  ‘Is whoever he is really your boyfriend?’ he asked, looking down into her eyes, his mouth dry and his body wound so tightly it was in danger of shattering.

  Lily blinked, clearly taken aback. ‘Nick?’ she said, her breath catching and a pulse hammering at the base of her neck.

  ‘Yes.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Is that what this is about, Kit? Do you suddenly have a problem with me moving on or something?’

  ‘Possibly,’ he muttered because, as disconcerting and unexpected as it might be, he suspected he did.

  And then her eyes narrowed and filled with indignation, and she pulled her shoulders back and glared up at him. ‘Well, that’s just tough because you don’t get to have a say in what I do any more. You don’t get to have an opinion. And you certainly don’t get to comment on my boyfriends.’

  ‘I know that,’ he said roughly, trying but failing to ignore the implication that there’d been a few.

  ‘Anyway, would it be so hard to believe if he was?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Disappointing as hell though.’

  She arched an eyebrow and tilted her head in challenge. ‘Oh, really? Why?’

  The provocative stance, the energy emanating from her and the flurry of memories that were now shooting round his head killed off the last remnant of his self-control, and Kit felt himself begin to unravel.

  ‘Because even though I know it would be mad,’ he said, his voice hoarse with the effort of restraining himself, ‘even though I know we haven’t seen each other for five years and have enough baggage to sink a liner, I’m this close—’ he held his thumb and forefinger a centimetre apart ‘—to dragging you into my arms and hauling you off to bed. The only thing that’s stopping me is this boyfriend of yours and even he’s now beginning not to bother me. So if you have any
sense of self-preservation whatsoever, if you don’t feel the same way, then I suggest you step aside and let me leave. Now.’

  *

  As the words sank into her head Lily’s mind reeled and her heart lurched. Kit wanted to take her to bed? Could she really have heard that right? Surely she must have got it wrong. Surely his proximity was having such a disturbing effect on her mind and body that she’d misheard or something because the very idea of it didn’t make any sense at all.

  Kit hadn’t given any indication of wanting her earlier. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d been cool and utterly indifferent to her. Which was entirely to be expected. They hadn’t seen each other in five years and didn’t even like each other particularly.

  But no, she thought, blinking up at him in astonishment. It seemed to be that she hadn’t misheard and he really had just told her that he wanted to sleep with her. She could see it in his dark eyes, blazing down at her with barely suppressed desire, and she could feel it in his body, which was radiating heat and vibrating with tension.

  And even though it could well be nothing more than a simple case of male jealousy or a misguided attempt at marking out territory or something, whatever it was, for one brief, crazy moment she wanted to throw caution to the wind, fling her arms around his neck and sink into him because it had been so long since she’d had great sex and she missed it more than she’d ever let herself admit.

  But she stamped out the temptation, set her jaw and held her ground. She hadn’t spent the last five years of her life building up sky-high defences to protect herself against men who could cause her the kind of emotional turmoil he could only to have them annihilated by the very man who’d created her need for them in the first place. She’d trained herself to look forwards, not back, and Kit didn’t feature in her present, let alone her future.

  She didn’t want to sleep with him anyway, she told herself firmly. She was totally over him and completely immune. In fact she rather thought she was appalled, insulted and even disgusted by his suggestion.

  Especially if this was why he’d come here. Lily frowned as the possibility crossed her mind. Was it? Was he on some sort of booty call or something?

  Well, if he was, she thought, her indignation firing, that was just awful. If he was, she’d have liked to be able to turn back time in order to slam the door in his face when he first pitched up on her doorstep.

  ‘You want to take me to bed?’ she said, her tone as scathing as she could manage, which wasn’t very because in amongst the indignation and shock was something that felt suspiciously like hurt, although what there was to be hurt about she had no idea.

  ‘Very badly.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You have to ask?’

  ‘Clearly,’ she said dryly. ‘Are you lonely for a little company on New Year’s Eve, Kit?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘You must be pretty desperate if you’re here.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘So what is this? Auld lang syne and the remembering of old acquaintances or something?’

  ‘I don’t know what this is,’ he muttered, shoving his hands through his hair, looking as baffled as she felt. ‘I didn’t come here to sleep with you, Lily, but nevertheless I want to.’

  ‘Well, I don’t, so dream on, darling, because it’s never going to happen.’

  He nodded. ‘Fine. Then move aside and I’ll go.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘You aren’t moving.’

  ‘I’m about to.’

  But she wasn’t. Because, to her horror, her feet refused to move.

  A burst of panic exploded inside her and she felt a cold sweat break out all over her skin.

  Why wasn’t she sending him on his way, as he’d demanded? Why wasn’t she moving aside, wrenching the door open and bundling him out? Why was she still standing here, deliberating, struggling with herself?

  Struggling with herself?

  Oh, no, she thought, her heart hammering. Why was what should be an easy decision a struggle? Why was she dithering? She wanted him to leave, didn’t she? She didn’t care why he was here, did she? She was over him. Wasn’t she?

  Kit went very still, alert, like a panther about to pounce. ‘You still feel it too, don’t you?’

  ‘Feel what?’ she said, so poleaxed by the notion that she even had to question her indifference to him after such certainty for so long that for a moment she genuinely didn’t know what he meant.

  ‘The chemistry.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, not altogether genuine now.

  ‘Yes, you do.’

  ‘I’m over you,’ she said to convince herself more than him.

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘Then why aren’t you moving?’

  ‘You’re in the way.’

  He took a step back, but to her alarm it didn’t make any difference to her mobility. And he knew it. She could tell by the glint in his eye, and the panic escalated to such a level that she thought the top of her head was about to blow off.

  What if she wasn’t as over him as she’d thought? What if, despite all this time, despite all the lengths she’d gone to to ensure otherwise, she wasn’t over him at all?

  Because if she was, she wouldn’t have to spend every anniversary drunk out of her mind to avoid the memories, would she?

  If she was, she wouldn’t have found it so hard to drink out of those glasses.

  If she was, she wouldn’t be so afraid of mind-blowing sex, and she wouldn’t only enter relationships with men who left her body completely unstirred.

  If she was she wouldn’t have felt so hurt at the thought Kit had just come here for sex.

  ‘Do you want to know what I think, Lily?’

  ‘No,’ she said, her voice as croaky as if she hadn’t used it for years.

  ‘I think you’re as over me as I am over you.’

  She cleared her throat and tried to pull herself back on track. ‘You can think what you like.’

  ‘Can you honestly say you don’t want me?’

  No. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Too bad.’

  ‘I want you.’

  ‘Well, we can’t always have what we want.’

  ‘Can’t we?’ he murmured.

  She set her jaw because whatever he wanted, whatever she might or might not want—and who knew the answer to that?—them sleeping together would be a disaster of titanic proportions and she had no intention of giving in. ‘No.’

  He moved closer, his gaze not letting her look away, and beneath its intensity she felt her resolve, her immunity to him begin to crumble. ‘Are you sure about that?’

  Her heart thundered. ‘Quite sure.’ And then at the predatory gleam in his eye, she added, ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve thought about you, you know.’

  She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less but inside she was beginning to shake. ‘Have you?’

  He nodded, his eyes glittering, and took a step forwards. ‘A lot.’

  ‘I haven’t thought about you at all.’

  ‘Really?’

  She nodded. ‘Really. Not once.’

  ‘Don’t you remember how it used to be?’

  ‘I remember how it was in the end.’

  ‘Coward.’ He reached out and touched her hair while his gaze dipped to her mouth, and despite all her protests she shivered.

  ‘Kiss me and you’ll regret it,’ she said, unfolding her arms and flexing and curling her fingers in warning, but that didn’t seem to stop him.

  He tilted his head and looked down at her, his eyes as black as night and so full of intent and desire that she could barely breathe.

  ‘That’s a risk I’m prepared to take,’ he muttered, and before she could even think of protesting he slid his hand round to the back of her neck then bent his head and captured her mouth with his.

  FOUR

  Lily tried to keep her mout
h closed and her eyes open, she really did, but the familiarity of Kit, the heat of his mouth, his body and his scent blew away her resistance like a dandelion on the wind, and within a second she found herself succumbing to the drugging desire that swept through her.

  Her eyes fluttered shut and she moaned and his tongue thrust into her mouth with devilish intent. The heat and the spark she’d felt earlier and had ignored shot back with a rush and her knees went weak.

  Any thought of pushing him away vanished. The fingers she’d been flexing in warning now clutched at his shirt to pull him closer because despite everything they’d been through, everything she’d tried to convince herself of over the years, she’d missed him. So damned much.

  She could tell herself that she didn’t want and didn’t need that spark all she liked, but, goodness, she’d missed feeling like this. The heady, delirious rush of simple, hot desire, without any of the angst and anguish that had blighted the latter months of their marriage. She’d missed this kind of need, primitive, pure and fierce.

  Just when she feared her legs were going to give way and she’d either fall into him or collapse into a heap on the floor Kit broke off the kiss and lifted his head.

  ‘So is he or isn’t he?’ he asked roughly, his breathing all fast and ragged and his eyes glazed.

  She stared up at him, her heart twisting and tugging, and she could feel herself falling under his spell just as she had the moment she’d looked into his eyes at the bottom of that ski slope in Italy.

  The longer she looked up at him, the more her head began to swim with the emotions that she’d kept buried for so long and were now breaking free. Love, hate, joy, despair, desire.

  And bewilderment, because had she spent the long lonely weeks, months, years since their divorce hoping for this? Hoping he’d come and find her? Had she been living a lie the whole of the last five years? And if she had, what did that make her? Nuts? Lucky? A hopeless case?

  And what did all of this mean? Did Kit still feel something for her other than lust? Something more? Were there still feelings between them? Did they have a second chance?

  Her mind teeming and her heart racing, Lily let the weight of emotion submerge the voice of reason bellowing in her head and warning her to be, oh, so very wary.