Find Me Alastar(66)

“Why not?”

“Twinkle.” I sigh. “I’m...” I hesitate. Should I just come out and say it? “I’m a little too attached to you already. Me staying here will only make it worse when you go.”

He smiles a broad genuine smile as his arms slink around my behind and he pulls me back to his body. “This is where we make the memories that you will look back on in twenty years, remember?”

I smirk.

“One week together and then we go our separate ways. Like you said, we have an affection for each other and we can look back with fondness.”

His lips drop to my neck.

“No,” I breathe into the back of his head.

He bites me and I smile.

He grabs me and lays me back over the bench. “Will you stop it?” I giggle.

“Give me my week.”

“I said no.” I laugh as he continues his attack on my senses.

“I’m working tomorrow night and you can come and watch me shoot. You can be my glamorous assistant.” I smile, that does sound fun, actually.

“And then I have a work dinner on Friday night and you can be my date.” He tries once more to sweeten the deal. His voice is muffled as his lips refuse to leave my skin.

The truth is, he doesn’t have to sweeten the deal at all. I already know I want to see him, but I also know I’m swimming into dangerous, unchartered waters. I am much more attached to us than I should be. I shouldn’t be craving his touch or his time outside of the bedroom. This is meant to be casual sex, not required intimacy.

I pull out from under him and kiss his lips. “Thank you for the offer, but no. We can go out on the weekend before you go if you like?”

His face falls, but he nods once. “Okay.” He turns and grabs the keys and my heart drops. He’s disappointed.

“Have you got everything?” he asks.

“I just have to get my bag from upstairs.”

“Okay.”

I turn and walk upstairs, into his bedroom, and I take one last look around at the luxury space. I make the bed with the ridiculously expensive bed linen and walk into the bathroom to pick up the fluffy towels that we left on the floor after our lovemaking and shower this morning. My eyes glance over at the shower and I get a visual reminder of what we would have looked like making love up against the tiles on the wall.

Our lips locked, his hands all over me, his body inside of mine.

I don’t want to go.

I want to stay with him for the week.

I walk over to the thick, expensive drapes and pull them back to look out onto the street below. Am I strong enough to give him the week, knowing that I have to let him go at the end of it?

I already think I know the answer.

Why did I have to meet him? Why is he asking me to stay?

This is where we make memories that we look back on, remember?

His words cross through my mind and I smile.

Maybe Alastar Twinkle is going to be just that: a beautiful thing that happened in London.

A beautiful thing that I will regret if I don’t explore it.

I always said I don’t want any regrets in life. Will I regret this?

I will. I know I will.

But what will I regret more? Doing this and missing him when he goes, or knowing I could have spent more time with him when I had the chance and I turned it down because of fear.

I blow out a deep, sad breath just as his arms slip around me from behind. His lips go to my temple as he stares out to the street below with me.

“Please. Give me the week,” he breathes.

We stand still for a moment as we stare out the window, both lost in our own thoughts.

I turn and kiss him softly, my tongue dusting his lips, asking for approval to enter his mouth. Our kiss turns passionate and my eyes close instinctively.

Why does he have to kiss so perfectly?

“I’m scared I wont let you go,” I finally whisper, admitting my fear.

“I will make sure that you do,” he breathes. “If it is any consolation, it is me who won’t want to let you go.”

My eyes search his. Does he feel this connection as much as I do?

“It’s one week. Let’s give each other one week,” he whispers, almost begging me. I smile, unable to push the stupid words of permission through my lips. I nod and let him kiss me once more.



* * *



The flicker of warm light dances across my face, I’m drunk on a post orgasmic glow in the arms of my bright, shining star. We’re lying in front of the fire on a mattress he dragged onto his bedroom floor. The room is dark, lit only by the fire flames. Sporadically, the fire crackles loudly, breaking the silence.

Alastar is curled around me from behind, and his hands roam up and down my naked body, with his lips touching my skin every now and then. We are under a large, chunky knit, navy throw.

“Tell me about your family?” he asks.

“My family?” I smirk.

“Yes.”

“Well, I am the middle daughter.”

“Middle child syndrome?”

“Totally,” I whisper.

“My mum and my dad are hopelessly in love.”

I feel him smile behind me.

“We are relatively poor.”

He comes up onto his elbow and looks down at me. “Poor?” He frowns as if surprised.