A rush of pleasure ran through her. ‘How long?’
‘Remember when Ella first introduced us?’
‘Yes.’ Abby remembered it well. It had been four years ago when she was nineteen and still trying to find her feet. She had not long started a journalism degree because she couldn’t decide what course to take and she’d met Ella while she had been working part-time in a bookshop to cover her study expenses. They’d struck up a conversation about the books they liked and within no time at all they were catching up for coffee and chatting as if they’d been friends since childhood. Not that Abby had told Ella the truth about her childhood. She wanted to maintain the image of herself she always projected, as someone who didn’t have baggage or hang-ups or embarrassing relatives she would never have chosen if she’d had a choice. ‘Ella brought me around to your house to meet you.’
‘I wasn’t in the mood for visitors.’
‘I could tell that,’ Abby said. ‘I didn’t like you at all. I thought you were standoffish and gruff.’
He stroked her bottom lip again, his gaze still trained on her mouth. ‘I didn’t always use to be like that… Well, not that bad, anyway. But when you smiled at me that day it made me feel about a thousand years old.’
She stroked her hand down his chest to his erection. ‘You don’t feel that old to me.’
He gave her a twisted smile. ‘You’re still way too young for me.’
‘I’m only nine years younger and I’m mature for my age, or at least I like to think so.’ Abby considered herself mature because for as long as she could remember she had been thrown on the mercy of her own resources. Nothing made you grow up faster than having no reliable adults around to depend on.
He kissed the end of her nose. ‘You have an air of youthfulness about you. Like you believe life is meant to be fun and happy and you’ll do anything you can to make it that way.’
‘It’s called positivity,’ Abby said. ‘Looking forward not back.’
His eyes did that searching thing again as if he was looking for something in her gaze. ‘Abby…’ He touched her face with a brush of a finger. ‘You need to understand this is only for now. I can’t promise more than that and even a short time frame is probably risking things.’
Abby wasn’t sure what exactly he thought he was risking. Liking her too much? Enjoying being with her? Maybe even falling in love with her? But there was her risk assessment to consider. What if she fell in love with him? Was she flirting with danger by entering into a short-term affair that had no possibility of being for ever?
‘We can set a date if you want,’ Abby said, repeating her offer from earlier. ‘We can programme it into our phones to give us a reminder. Ping.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘End of fling.’
A flicker of something passed through his gaze. ‘You’re joking, right?’
‘I’m not joking,’ Abby said. ‘This is clearly creating a bit of stress for you so why not both of us agree on a breakup date?’
‘It sounds a little…clinical.’
‘It’s more practical rather than clinical,’ Abby said. ‘We agree on a date and stick to it. Seriously, I should write a column about this. I could call it the no-nonsense guide to having a fling, or a fling without tears.’
His expression was shadowed by a frown and he started to ease away from her. ‘Maybe this isn’t such a great idea.’
Abby laid her hand on his arm. ‘So you get to pleasure me but I don’t get to pleasure you? How is that fair?’
He placed his hand over hers, his mouth set in a firm line. ‘All right. One week from today, okay?’
One week? Abby had been hoping for two, possibly three. Months, not weeks. Years would have been even better. ‘Agreed.’
He held her gaze for a long beat before he bent his mouth to hers, kissing her with such passion her desire for him hammered and hummed in her blood.
He lifted his mouth and reached for a condom in the bedside drawer, but she found it incredibly touching he had to rustle around in there for a while before he located one. His long drought between lovers made her feel even more special. This was a big step for her and it was a big step for him. They’d made a commitment to have a one-week fling. It was as if they were equals, two people on a search for connection on a purely physical level.
He looked at the small foil packet a little doubtfully. ‘I hope this isn’t past its use-by date. Are you taking any contraception?’
‘I take the Pill so I can regulate my cycle,’ Abby said. ‘I hate getting my period at inconvenient times. The Pill means I can plan it to fit in with my lifestyle.’