Authors: Rosalind James
She looked up at Nic, her eyes glinting with tears as she
remembered. “Why’d you do it?” she asked suddenly. “Why didn’t you ring like
you said you would? The truth. Why?”
“I was too young,” he said slowly, searching for the answer.
“Stupid. I thought, because this had come along, because
you
had come
along, and it was so good, that my life would be full of things like that. Of
girls. Of things that good, times like we had. I didn’t realize it was
special.”
“I did,” she said. “I knew.”
“You were smarter than me,” he admitted. He reached a hand
up, ran the back of it along her cheek. “Still are, I reckon.”
She turned from him, folded the book shut, reached out to
set it on the table. Felt his arms come around her from behind. “You were so
pretty,” he said, nuzzling the side of her neck, pulling her back against him.
“When you were in my lap, on that plane. Remember that?”
“Yeah,” she breathed. “I remember.”
“Those angel eyes,” he said, his lips moving over the
honey-colored curls. He reached a hand to pull them aside, kiss the skin
beneath. She shivered under his touch, the feel of his lips against the
sensitive skin. “You looked so innocent. I wanted to keep holding you, just give
you a cuddle, and at the same time . . .” His voice trailed off.
It was easier to ask, without having to look him in the eye.
“What? I’ve always wondered. If you were just looking for some company, and I
fell into your lap. Literally, I know. So easy.”
He reached a hand up under the stretchy top. Over the thin
band of her bra, the satiny skin of her sides, her back. At her sigh, he worked
the top up to expose more of her. Both hands on her now, running up her ribs to
her breasts. He pulled her against him, into his lap. Bent his mouth to the
back of her neck again as his hands moved over her.
“Nah. It was this,” he said against her skin, his thumbs
stroking over her shoulder blades. “All this softness. Made me want to cuddle
you, but also . . . it made me want to do dirty things to you. Pull you down
there with me, rub those angel wings in the mud. Watch your eyes close, see that
pretty mouth on me.” His hands were on her breasts now, the light, lacy cups of
her bra no barrier. His teeth scraped against the side of her neck, his hands
continued to roam, and she offered no resistance when he finally turned her
around again to face him.
“You’re so sweet,” he told her, pulling the top all the way off
now, exposing the lacy peach bra, disordering her curls. “And it kills me. It
did then, and it still does. I only have to see you, and I want you again. Even
more than I did the first time.”
She sighed, her eyes drifting shut. Felt him reach around to
unfasten the bra, pull it off. His mouth closed over hers, one hand reaching
around to pull her more tightly against him, the other moving over her breast, thumb
caressing the nipple, each touch sending a jolt of pleasure directly to her
core. The flames were licking her, and she was starting to burn.
“This is a probably a bad idea,” she moaned. “But it feels
so good.”
“Let’s just feel good, then,” he coaxed, shifting her over
him. Finally bent his head to take that same nipple in his mouth as his hand
moved to the other breast, began to play. She gasped at the dual sensations,
reached out for his shoulders and held on.
He lifted his mouth to hers again, nudged her legs apart
with his hand, cupped her there as he continued to kiss her, to touch her. She
felt her body pulling toward him, opening for him. Needing him.
“I need to take your clothes off,” he told her at last. “I’ve
been waiting to see this again for months now, and I just can’t wait any more. But
I’m going to ask. You OK doing this?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “I need it too. So, yes. Please. Now.”
He stood, lifting her in his arms, and carried her to his
bedroom. Kicked the door shut behind them, found the way to the bed in the
darkness, laid her down on the white cotton duvet. Reached a hand out for the
bedside light. “I don’t want to do this in the dark. It’s been too long. I need
to see.”
“Nic.” She reached for him, pulled him down to her. Kissed
his mouth, reached under his T-shirt to feel him, run her hands over his chest.
“Lock the door. In case.”
He pulled away from her reluctantly, went to do as she asked.
Turned again to see her there, on the bed. His pulse was hammering, but he
wanted to go slowly. Let it build, make it as good for her as it had been
before. One thing he was sure of. He still remembered how to please her.
Her hands went to the stretchy leggings, and he was back at
the bed again, coming down over her. “Hold still. My job to undress you.” He
reached for the waistband, saw her lift her hips from the bed to help him.
Pulled the material down over her legs, exposing the skin to him. He needed to
taste all that. Everything. He began to move down her body, felt her clutching
at his shoulders, holding him, running her hands over him.
“Lie still,” he told her again. “Because I need to kiss you
everywhere tonight. And you need to lie still for me.” He was at her breasts
again, lingering there. Moving lower, running his hand over the band of peach
lace at her hip, down her thigh. Then up her inner thigh, the skin like silk.
Slowly, now. Drawing it out. Making her wait until, at last, he settled his
hand over her, rubbed. Felt her jerk at the touch, the dampness of the fabric
under his hand.
He kissed her through the material, softly at first. Then,
slowly, began to pull the insubstantial things off her. Watched her shift, saw
her struggling to open to him as he drew them down her legs, finally freed her
from them. Then ran both hands up her again, until the thumbs met at the
center. Put a hand on each thigh to push her legs apart, slid a finger inside
her, then another, felt the heat there, the desire she couldn’t hide anymore,
heard her begin to whimper as he touched her. And, finally, bent his head to
her as his hand continued to move. She wasn’t waxed now, he saw. Didn’t matter.
Either way was good. Really good.
She was gasping, panting against him, held fast by his
fingers inside her, his hand pressing her down, his mouth against her. He
brought her up, and up further, felt her excitement build, the way she was
writhing under him. And he’d been right. He remembered everything. How she
liked it. What made her squirm. What made her moan. And what made her, finally,
convulse around him, her torso rising from the bed as she called out in
incoherent abandon.
The spasms slowed, and she was pulling him up to her,
grabbing at his T-shirt, pulling it over his head.
“Inside,” she got out. “Please, Nic. Please.” Her hands
unsnapping his jeans, pulling the zipper down, impatiently trying to help him
get rid of the rest of his clothes. Then she was holding him again as he
struggled to get the condom on. Running her hands over him, as if she couldn’t
wait.
He wanted to do everything, feel all of her. He was moving
her, turning her. Giving her instructions, just as he always had. And getting
the thrill he’d remembered so often, seeing her respond, doing exactly as he
told her. Doing everything he wanted.
Finally, though, it had to be simple. He needed her under
him, needed to look into the blue eyes, to see her mouth open, hear her breathing
hard, calling out to him. Her legs and arms wrapping around him.
“Nic.” Her voice was urgent now, her hips pulling at him. “I
need . . . I need . . .
Please.”
He shoved his hand down between them, raised himself off
her, rubbed her as he moved. Heard her breath catch, felt the change as she
began to climb again. Brought her to another shuddering, gasping orgasm and, as
he felt her clenching around him, finally found his own release, swearing aloud
with it, over and over again.
He grabbed an edge of the duvet, pulled it over them both as
he lay with her, still breathing hard. Pulled her close and kissed her, long
and lingeringly.
She sighed against him. “You said I killed you,” she murmured,
finally opening her eyes to look at him, her smile soft. “But you kill me too,
you know.”
He reached a hand to brush the curls from her cheek, kissed
her there, then lay back again and tightened his hold on her. “No leftovers,
then? After what happened?”
“After
what
happened?” she asked in confusion.
“Ryan,” he said reluctantly. “Wondering if I should’ve been
less . . . less aggressive. Didn’t think about it, though. As soon as we
started, I just wanted all of you. All for me. The way I always have.”
“No,” she said immediately. “Don’t change. You’ve never
scared me. And it’s what I want, too. It’s how I like it. And I’ve missed it so
much.” She ran a hand over his chest, levered herself up so she could move over
him, leaned down to kiss him. “I want it exactly the way you do it. But I need
to go get into my own bed, in case the boys wake up.”
“I’d rather you stayed with me,” he said, pulling her leg
over him so she was straddling him, then reaching for her breasts, running a
thumb over each pink nipple until they hardened at his touch. “We’ve got some
catching up to do.”
“I know we do,” she sighed, shivering as he continued to
caress her. She couldn’t help rubbing herself against him, just for a minute.
Because it felt so good. “But I can’t.” She pulled her leg across him
reluctantly, leaned over the bed and groped for her underwear and leggings on
the floor. He ran a hand over her bottom, down her legs. Held her there a
moment, pressing her down, before he pulled her up to join him again.
“Tomorrow, then,” he promised. “Seeing that is giving me
ideas, now that I’ve got the green light. Tomorrow night. Same time, same
place.”
“I’ll be here,” she smiled, kissing him one last time before
she got up and went to the door. “You’ve got a date.”
“I don’t think this is going to be a beach day,” Emma
said on Wednesday morning, looking out at the lowering clouds through the wall
of windows that made up the back of the bach. “I’m afraid it’s going to be
raining on us pretty soon.”
“Pity,” Nic agreed. He looked at the boys, tucking
contentedly into their eggs and bacon. “Reckon you lot’ll end up playing the
racecar game a bit today. Think you can feature that?”
“Though I did bring along something for a rainy day as well,”
he added as they eagerly assented to his plan. “Just in case you get bored with
the racecars.” He disappeared into his bedroom, came back with a couple bags
and handed one to each boy. “See if this’ll keep you busy.”
“Awesome!” Graham yelped. “A Lego robot!”
“I got a dinosaur!” Zack said excitedly. “T-Rex!”
“What do you say?” Emma asked, promoting a flurry of
thank-yous. “And finish your breakfast before you open the boxes, please,” she
told them. “You can look at the pictures on them now, and then we’ll clear off
the table so you can start working on putting them together. That way you won’t
lose any pieces.”
“You’re such a mum,” Nic told her.
“Yep. That’s me. And thanks,” she said as he finished the last
of his own breakfast and rose to put the plate in the dishwasher. “That was a
great idea. And very thoughtful.”
“I may just get the hang of this boy thing yet, d’you
reckon?”
“You just may.”
“If you don’t mind a bit of wind, yourself,” he said, “I did
ask Mrs. Jones if she’d be willing to mind the boys this morning. Seeing as we’ve
got them well occupied, I thought you and I could take a walk on Pakiri Beach.
I know the weather’s not the best, but you’ve got gumboots now, haven’t you? There’s
something about all that space that always appeals to me, no matter what. May
give us a chance to have a chat, too. Or we could go into town for a coffee, if
you’d rather.”
“A walk, please,” she said at once. “If we get wet, we can
always dry off afterwards, can’t we?”
An hour later, they stepped off the boardwalk and onto the
sand. Not another soul was visible in this weather. Just the curved expanse
stretching on for kilometers, as far as they could see in either direction. The
surf was running strong, the water an angry green, foaming white where the
waves broke. A mass of dark gray threatened overhead, the sun out one minute,
obscured by fast-moving clouds at the next.
“This may be a good time to talk about telling Zack that I’m
his dad,” Nic suggested after they had walked in silence for a few minutes.
“Already?” Emma hesitated.
“What d’you mean, ‘already?’ It’s been two and a half
months, I’m paying the maintenance, and it’s time we sat down with my schedule,
worked out a way to get him over to stay with me every week. You can come too,
you know. I’m hoping you’ll want to. So there’s nothing to be afraid of, is
there? It’s past time for him to know anyway, don’t you think?”
She had to admit that he was right. No matter how
uncritically and delightedly Zack accepted his weekly outings with Nic, it was
a big leap from that to staying overnight at his house. And she could no longer
tell herself that she was unsure of Nic’s intentions. She hadn’t entirely lost
her concern about the long term, but he’d been nothing but determined and
committed so far.
“All right,” she said. “Not now, while Graham’s here. But
soon.”
“I want to get his room set up, at my place,” Nic went on. “Once
we’re back. That’d be a good time to tell him, and that he’ll be staying with me,
some of the time.”
“Next week. OK. But I want to be there. Because it’ll be a
lot for him to hear.”
“We’ll do it together,” he promised. “After all, we made him
together, didn’t we? And in case I haven’t said this, we did a hell of a job.”
“We did, didn’t we?” she agreed. “He’s pretty great.”
“Yeh. Pretty good raw material, if we say so ourselves, and
you’ve done well too. I’d never have imagined the girl I knew then as a mum. You’ve
surprised me, I’ll admit.”