Portobello market with Leo might just be the most deliciously enjoyable experience of sensory overload that I’ve ever known. Sure, I’ve been to this market a million times, as well as some of the huge trade shows I get to visit occasionally for work, and they’re always a thrilling cacophony of noise, smells, textures, colours…
But when Leo is added into the mix…well, it’s a wonder my synapses haven’t completely fried, and my body melted into the ground.
It began with that sudden and intoxicating kiss at the station, the one where I barely had warning to draw breath before his mouth was on mine, and hasn’t stopped. All through the train ride where I had to hang onto him – mostly for practical reasons so that I didn’t fall over and get crushed in the crowd, but also partly because it felt good to be enfolded into his steady strength and warmth. The way he savoured every bite of our breakfast, his eyes barely leaving mine, to the point where I began to wonder if he were imagining devouring something else…me…which sent a heat that had nothing to do with the food swirling low in my belly, between my legs…and then he’d squeezed mine between his muscular, denim-clad thighs…
Teasing him as we shopped, but also seeing what kinds of things he was drawn to pick up himself giving me glimpses into his tastes, and then the gentlemanly way he’d taken the bag with my latest fabric stash from...