We munch on in silence and watch the kids hurtling through the water.
“I don’t know how they do it,” I laugh, “that water must be freezing.”
“Oh, it looks fun to me,” Stuart grins. “And I’m so hot in this damn suit.”
“Yes you are,” I reply without thinking and his smile expands to cover his whole face. I try to find some way of covering up my little slip. “So go on then, I dare you to stand on there with the kiddies.”
“I bet you I can do it and not get wet.”
“Winner gets a kiss.”
Now that sounds like a win-win situation to me.
“You’re on!” I settle back in the grass. He jumps up, pulls off his jacket and drops it to the floor beside me. It smells of him, spicy and fresh. I resist the urge to run the heavy material against my cheek. I carry on watching him and yes, he’s doing it. He’s standing in the middle of the fountain. It’s completely dry now but it’s obviously going to spurt soon. The little kids are laughing nervously, anticipating the cooling jets that will explode beneath them at any minute. I hold my breath. Will he get wet?
“Ha, see!” He taunts as the water shoots up a metre or so away from him, “told you.”
I’m just about to respond when a spout of water comes to my rescue and squirts up directly beside him, showering him in ice cold water.
“You were saying?” I clap my hands in delight.
He just laughs and wipes his wet hair from his eyes. His white shirt is clinging to his chest now and I can see the outline of his nipples and the dip of his bellybutton.
“Come on in, Lauren, the water is fine.”
“No, we need to go get you dry.” I look at my watch. “We’ve only got twenty minutes.”
“Okay, bring me my jacket.”
I stand and walk towards the fountain. He’s perched on the edge and holds out his hand. I pass him the jacket but he grabs hold of me and pulls me towards him. I follow him with a yell, leaping up the step and onto the wet marble top.
“What are you doing?” I squeal, “I’ll get soaked.”
“That’s what I am hoping for.” He spins me round right into the path of one of the jets. I scream as the water soaks through my skirt and my blouse and hits my heated cheeks. It’s icy cold and all my senses jump alive from the shock.
“You little…” Just in time I remember we’re surrounded by kids so I refrain from calling him a nasty name. He laughs, grabs me around the waist and pulls me to him.
“I like you wet,” he whispers, wiping a strand of clinging hair from my face. My gaze stays locked with his and I nervously lick my top lip. He follows the action with the movement of his eyes and then the space between our mouths is only millimetres and suddenly he’s kissing me. His flesh is soft, hot and giving in contrast to the coldness of my skin. Water rains around us, the kids’ whoops of delight and the hubbub of city life just fades away like someone has turned the volume down.
© Victoria Blisse