Coming Down (Love in London 1)

I look up. “Did you have it any easier?”

“You’ve met my mam, right?” He smiles in a disturbingly sexy way. All crinkles and lifted cheeks. “When she found out about the drugs I thought she was going to kill me. But later on, she was pretty cool, listening to me talking about Digby, and about you.”

“You talked about me?”

“All the time. She probably got sick of it.”

“I thought you’d forget about me.”

“How could I forget you? I spent most of the time either painting you or thinking about you.”

“But you never called.”

“Nor did you.” He says it simply, guilelessly, but I still feel it sharply. There’s no answer, because he’s right. I was too caught up in my own misery to think about dealing with anything else. Why would it be any different for him?

He stares at my lips. I feel self-conscious enough to pull my gaze from him and look away. “What did you do after that?”

“I moved to California for a few years. My uncle lives over there and managed to get me enrolled in an art program. It was his personal mission to clean me up.”

“Did he succeed?” This is the answer I need to know. If Niall is still using—even the tiniest amount—it will be a deal breaker. After the devastation I’ve witnessed, I couldn’t cope with that as well.

He sits stock-still, his face masked in seriousness. “Are you asking me if I still take drugs?”

I take a deep breath. “I am.”

He stands up and walks over to where I’m perched on the end of my bed, dropping to his knees so his face is in line with mine. For a moment I forget to breathe as he takes my hand in his, raising it up to cup his jaw. “I haven’t taken anything for eight years, Beth. I had a few false starts, but I got there. Beer and the occasional cigarette are my worst habits now.”

There’s an intensity to him that draws me in and I lean forward until we are only inches away. I inhale and notice his cologne and a faint trace of soap. Why does he always smell so good? There’s barely time to think about it before he’s clearing the final distance, and the next moment I feel his warm lips meet mine. Soft yet insistent.

He takes his time, moving slowly, tilting my head with his hands. I kiss him back, surrendering to his warmth, and the need that’s pushing at my chest. I find myself wanting to laugh and cry all at once, but settle for looping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer still, sighing loudly when his tongue slides between my lips. Lights flash behind my closed eyes as he presses his body to mine. Hard enough to make me fall back on the mattress. I bounce until he steadies me with his hands. Hovering over me, he cages me in with his arms, staring right into my eyes.

“Come here.” I put my hands on his shoulders and try to pull him closer. The muscles beneath his t-shirt flex, but he doesn’t move an inch.

“Is this okay? Kissing you, I mean.”

I nod quickly. We might have talked about waiting and being ready but lying underneath him I’m certain it’s right. “More than okay.”

He kisses me again. This time I wrap my legs around him, lifting my hips until I can feel him there. His moan vibrates through my lips and into my mouth, so I do it again, moving against him until we are both caught up in a fog of need.

I don’t know how long it goes on for. At one point he pushes my sweater up to my neck, stroking my stomach with his fingers, then his lips, soft enough to drive me crazy. If I was nineteen I’d be shimmying out of my jeans and he’d be tearing my knickers off without thinking twice. Instead we stick to caresses, gentle touches and hard strokes. His muscled thigh pushes between mine and I clench around him, still kissing him hard and fast. I need more. I could climb inside his skin and even that wouldn’t be close enough.

When we pull apart we’re both breathless, filling the room with loud sighs. Niall rolls off me and onto his back, flinging his arm over his head. My lips feel raw and bee stung. I trace them with my finger. Their tenderness surprises me.

He smiles when he catches my eye. It’s tentative, almost embarrassed and I want to laugh out loud. It’s as if nine years have disappeared and we are Niall and Beth making out after lectures. Except this time there’s nothing chemical involved.

For that reason, it tastes so much sweeter.

“I guess that’s what they call heavy petting.” Niall grins harder and pulls me into his crook. I snuggle in, feeling warm and protected. “The Christian Brothers always warned us about that.”

“Did they tell you about eternal damnation?” I ask, tracing his jaw with my finger.

“Yeah, but they forgot to say it would all be worth it.”

I close my eyes and press my face into his chest, enjoying the warmth radiating through his t-shirt. Part of me wants to ask him what this means, what this thing between us is, but I hold my tongue for fear of the answer. I’m too tired to talk anyway. The emotions of the day are weighing too heavily on my soul. So I let him hold me and trace his fingers along my spine, pressing his face into my hair, whispering words I cannot hear.

Just for tonight I let myself be.

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