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It seems as if it’s no time at all before it’s two-thirty and time to pick Millie up. I hover at the bottom of the stairs nervously, then call up, “Mitch?”
He appears at the top of the steps and runs down them. He’s even filthier than before, for some reason, streaks of black covering his hands, body, and face.
“You look like you’ve been up a chimney,” I tell him.
He sings the first line of Chim Chim Cher-ee from Mary Poppins in a bad Cockney accent, and I giggle.
He grins. “You off to get Millie?”
“Yeah. We’ll be back shortly.”
“No worries.”
“Do you need anything?”
“I’ve got water, but I’d love a Coke Zero.”
“I’ll call in next door.”
He nods. “Ask Em to put it on my tab.”
“I didn’t think she did tabs.”
“I’m a special case.”
“A special nut-case.”
He holds my gaze, and his eyes are hot, taunting. “I should put you over my knee for that.”
My eyes widen. “Oh. Um.” My brain starts to melt as he walks slowly toward me. “I was thinking… that… it’s probably best… that we don’t… do anything…” I stop as the back of my thighs meet a table.
“Really.” He looks amused. He continues moving forward until we’re almost touching, then leans forward. I inhale, but he reaches past me, then straightens. He’s holding one of the cupcakes Emma brought in earlier.
“Oh.” I feel a peculiar blend of disappointment and relief.
Keeping his gaze on mine, he peels off the paper wrapper. The top is covered in butter cream, and as I watch, he lifts the cupcake, turns it to face me… then touches it to my top lip, leaving a thick smear of cream there. I stiffen and go to lick it up, but he shakes his head, then moves a little closer.
I hold my breath, feeling my heart bang on my ribs as he dips his head.
He touches his tongue to the corner of my mouth, then brushes it right across my top lip, licking the whole lot off.
Oh fuck… I feel as if I’m a fairground Test Your Strength machine, and he’s rung my bell with a huge mallet.
His huge mallet. Oh my God. I’m hysterical.
“Mmm.” He touches his tongue to my bottom lip, presumably removing the last bit of butter cream, and I shudder. “You were saying?” he says, amused.
I blink. “I have no idea. My brain’s turned to caramel.”
“I bet you taste sweeter than this,” he whispers, before sucking my bottom lip, just a little.
“M-Mitch… oh my God…”
He chuckles and finally moves back. “I’d better let you go. Don’t want you to be late for Millie.”
“N-no.” I don’t know what I’m doing. I go to walk out, then turn back to get my bag and keys. He watches me, smirking. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
I walk out of the shop, crashing into a table and knocking over a stack of books in the process, and hear him laughing behind me as the door swings shut.
