He grins, delighted with the discovery. “This is my favourite too,” he declares. “It’s got a bit of magic about it.”

“The most mundane things often do,” I observe and, without thinking, I raise my fingers and brush back the lock of jet-black hair that’s fallen over his eyes.

He looks at me in query, and suddenly his full lips are a few centimetres away from mine, his eyes huge and the pupils dilated. We both freeze, and the gallery falls away. All I can hear is our breathing, fast and far too loud.

I drop my hand, and, as he steps back, I see the quick rise and fall of his chest.

What the fuck was that?

“Okay.” He clears his throat. “Okay, time for the cakes and pints you promised me.”

He’s talking way too fast, but I cut him some slack because it takes me several moments to speak at all. “Yes,” I manage, my voice hoarse. “Definitely time to get out of here.”

Chapter Nine

One Week Later

Misha

I put down the stack of paperwork I’m supposed to be concentrating on and swivel my chair to look out of the window. It’s not a particularly inspiring view, consisting mainly of an office block and someone’s conference room.

However, it wouldn’t matter if this morning’s vista included a naked Channing Tatum cleaning the windows. All I can see is Charlie’s face in the gallery last week, all soft and warm. I can almost feel his hand on mine as he towed me around, lecturing me on whichever piece of art caught his fancy. I’ve visited plenty of museums and galleries with Charlie in the past. But Saturday’s visit was different because I spent most of my time observing Charlie—his bright eyes, lush mouth, golden hair—instead of the exhibits and tourists.

I also spent a highly inappropriate amount of time wondering if he was wearing lace knickers. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t stop the images that come every time I let my guard down. Images of him wearing those knickers, his lean body glowing, his cock rising behind a layer of cherry-red lace.

Harry opened Pandora’s Box that night I’d dumped his case in the corridor, and now I can’t lock my thoughts away.

The knickers are in my bedside table drawer. I should give them back to Charlie or stuff them in his laundry basket while he’s not looking. I need to remove temptation, but I can’t return them until I’ve washed them.