Authors: Charlotte Oliver
The urge to kiss him was nearly overwhelming me, but the pleasure of anticipation was keeping me from doing it.
The cryptic gaze he returned was going to drive me wild with desire. We both knew what the other was thinking . . . and that the thoughts were identical.
Rebound
.
“Well?” he laughed, and shook his head, stunning me with his easy nonchalance. This was not the uptight, combative man I’d tried to have dinner with once upon a time. Then I remembered the beach, swimming in the ocean with him, laughing with exhilaration. And then Declan’s lunch . . . a new picture began to form in my mind.
I looked at him again, comparing the new to the old.
When I’d first met him, he’d had a flinty look that had immediately intimidated me, and his manner was so brusque that it was practically dismissive. Now, he looked at me with warmth, and a touch of—was it
wistfulness
? Could it have been?
Just then, before I could tell him
yes, actually, I would like to snog you,
the waitress appeared with our drinks. There was an air of anticlimax as I fiddled with my straw and he with his slice of lemon.
He glanced up at the open windows. I did too; I was feeling suddenly awkward, not to mention a bit panicked that I had no idea how I’d got to this place, let alone where it was and how long we’d been there for.
“Sun’s coming up,” Tam murmured.
He was right; the dark-blue night sky was slowly lightening. “What’s the time?” I asked.
He checked his watch—I’d never noticed how beautiful his hands were before, and they transfixed me absurdly: “Four forty-five. Tired?”
Predictably, the second he said that I felt five hundred times more tired than I had the second before.
It must have shown, because then he said, “Why don’t we call it a night?”
“OK,” I said, coolly, and my adrenalin was up in the same instant. But I was surprised and disappointed at the sudden apprehension that came with it.
I’d been in this situation before. Long night out with a man I didn’t know very well; exhausted; chemically compromised. It hadn’t ended well. Or at least it had seemed to end well, but then it turned out that it hadn’t. Oh dear. I knew I was in a muddle, but surely this was bad?
Would you stop thinking so much?
said the old chorus from earlier.
Not thinking—that’s how you got into this mess in the first place,
said Reason, determined to have her voice heard.
Remember?
But it was all in vain, because the next thing I knew we’d jumped in a cab and landed up at Tam’s hotel and I’d accepted that I was destined to sleep with him, and to be honest, I had even allowed myself to get used to the idea.
And it was fun to ratchet up the tension by pretending we
weren’t
going to do it.
Ooh, it’s going to be so good to rip each other’s clothes off
, I thought giddily.
Then, in between, I thought o
h no oh no oh no I’m making the same mistake again . . .
And in between those two thoughts, I thought this:
No you’re not. This is completely different. Look, you’re on the rebound, he’s not your boss . . . you’re just doing the natural thing after a break-up. Getting back on the horse and all that.
And in between those, I managed to sneak some surreptitious glances at him. Maybe it was my beer (mushroom?) goggles, but he really was looking so delicious.
When we pulled up outside Tam’s hotel, I was ready to burst with excitement.
“Well, goodnight,” Tam began, “d’you want me to explain to him where you’re staying?” (The cabbie had wilfully refused to understand that we needed to go to Camps Bay and the Hideaway first. Although that may have had something to do with the wilfully defective directions I supplied him with.)
“What?” I barked, my fantasies instantly shattered.
Tam looked just as shocked as I felt. “What do you—d’you mean—you want to—”
“Of course I
want to
,” I snapped, annoyed, but also hot with embarrassment.
For a terrible second, he hesitated—and I really thought he was going to pack me off home on my own. But then held out his hand to help me out.
He gave a physical jolt of shock as I took it, and I felt a selfish, suddenly resentful, pleasure. This was different. I was the one in power here; Tam was going to bend to my will. I was going to conquer him, and it was going to make me forget about Jack forever.
Ha!
Jack
. I was going to sleep with his brother. Not that he would ever know, probably—but I would. I would always have something I knew I could hurt him with if I wanted to. That would feel good.
As we padded swiftly through the quiet corridors, I became drunk on my own thoughts of revenge. I hadn’t let go of his hand all the way there, and as we walked in silence, I became more and more delirious with the thought of what was coming. When we got to the door of his room, I couldn’t wait any longer, and I pulled him around to face me, to kiss me, arching myself upwards to meet his lips.
As I did it, I was thrilled again by the thought of how
big
he was. I felt tiny, sexy, delicate, but in possession of more power than I’d ever thought would be mine to exercise.
I’m going to have you,
I thought,
and afterwards you’re going to beg me to stay with you . . .
“Ava,” he said, his breath hot on my face, “wait.”
Although I was buzzing with adrenaline by then, I managed a light laugh, the laugh of a coquette. “Oh, Tam,” I giggled sexily, taking him playfully by the front of his shirt, delighted by my own forwardness: “I think we’re past pretences by now.”
He had a gorgeous mouth. Funny how his scar used to repulse me a little. Now, staring at it, it had me hopelessly aroused. I imagined kissing him, and
I pulled myself imperceptibly closer to him, and I wondered if his sweet summer scent would become stronger when I—
I saw his lips part, his jaw tremble slightly, and that was all the invitation I needed. I moved forward once more, only an inch closer, and my lips brushed against his with pretended apprehension. That smell—that sweet, musky
Tam
smell enveloped me, and my knees nearly buckled completely.
I felt his body galvanise the moment that lips touched. In slow motion, he seemed to wake up to what was happening—encouraging me, hungry for me, pushing my lips apart with his tongue and sending thrills of lust shooting down from my heart to the base of my spine. Nothing in the world could have felt as good, in that moment, as knowing that Tam wanted me. He was desperate for me. He would do anything for me.
He was my conquest.
But then, just as I was reaching up to run my hands through his dark gold hair, letting go, feeling a groan of pleasure build in my chest—he grasped me suddenly by the wrists and pushed me away from him. “We can’t do this.”
We were both panting, searching one another’s faces: but in a moment, an embarrassed sneer formed on my lips. “Talk about mixed messages. What are you, anyway—a monk?”
I pushed him away in disgust, pretending I was the first to do it.
“No,” he said quietly, dropping his hands to his sides. “I’m your husband’s brother. We can’t do this. No matter how we feel.”
I went scarlet and throbbed with resentment and shame. The bastard, getting all touchy-feely and then playing the sanctimonious card on me at the last minute. My husband’s brother, indeed. As if I didn’t know
that.
He looked tired and sad. But I didn’t care. I hated him.
“I should have explained. It’s a suite. Two rooms.” He turned to me beseechingly. “Ava, please, it’s not that I don’t find you attractive—”
“Spare me,” I snapped, close to tears but refusing to look him in the eye. “Just fucking
spare
me.” Since I wouldn’t look at his face, my eyes naturally travelled downwards.
I felt a throb of perverse pride when I saw his erection straining inside his trousers.
That’ll teach you
, I thought triumphantly.
But I was confused. What had I done wrong?
I pushed past him, flouncing in with what was probably a fairly pathetic show of bravado, but it was the least I could do as I tried to save face. I was more livid with him than I ever remembered being with Jack. At least Jack had balls—Tam was just spineless, I decided bitterly.
“Do you want a t-shirt to sleep in?” Tam asked as I marched into the bedroom and chucked my handbag into the corner in fury.
“Fuck off,” I hissed, and slammed the door in his face.
Mercifully, I fell asleep the moment my head hit the white damask pillows. When I woke up a few hours later, the alcohol having finally worn off, I resisted the temptation to wake Tam up to apologise to him. I felt used up and horrible, not to mention embarrassed: I should never have tried to get back on
that
horse.
I felt disgusting.
I tiptoed, shoes in hand, past the armchair he was dozing in, and made my way out towards the bright white sunshine of a Cape Town noon.
I can’t say I wasn’t mortified to find Declan standing on the curb when the cab pulled up outside the Hideaway. I’d have preferred to slink back to the room unnoticed.
Oh well,
I sighed to myself,
it’s not like they didn’t notice I was missing.
“There y’are,” he muttered as I got out of the car and paid the cabbie. Why did he look so annoyed? He was the instigator of last night’s shenanigans. He’d only himself to blame for being hung over to hell. “We’ve bin ringing ye for hours.”
“O-oh, sorry,” I stammered, “I didn’t have my mobile with me.”
Gosh. Didn’t think I had to ring to tell my Mummy I was sleeping out.
“Gathered as much.” He ground his cigarette out on the pavement. “Come on. You’ll have to go round the side.”
I laughed. “Can we not just go inside the usual way? Like through the front door?”
“No.” He was looking at me steadily. “You’re t’come with me.”
I felt my face fall. There was something wrong. Of course there was. Why else would Declan be standing outside on the pavement? And not enjoying a nice nutritious cigarette where he usually did—propping up the bar?
“What’s happened?” Had there been an accident? An outbreak of bubonic plague?
He scratched the back of his head. “I’m not supposed to tell ye till you’re safe inside.”
“Declan, tell me.”
“Come on, I’ll tell you once we’re in.”
Hysteria rose in my throat. “
What has happened?
” I hissed. If he didn’t tell me, I’d smack him.
“Alright, alright, keep ye hair on, for Chrissake. It’s your man. He’s here.”
I was astonished. “Tam’s here? What, right now?” How’d he got here ahead of me?
But Declan was looking at me disbelievingly, his head cocked, eyes curious. “Not Tam, you doze. Your fella. That Jack.”
Jack.
His name hit me with a sickening impact—a cannonball to the stomach, a prizefighter’s punch to the jaw.
I gasped for air. “Jack. Jack is here.” Me, back from spending the night with his brother. Me, hair unwashed, teeth furry with last night’s alcohol. Me, having just given up hope that he would ever come after me. If only it had been one day sooner. Just one day.
He jammed another cigarette between his lips, lit it, and grabbed me by the arm. “Come on. Before ye do y’self an injury.”
There was another route into the garden—a gap where the boxwood hedge didn’t quite meet with the exterior wall. “The girls are keepin’ him occupied,” Declan was saying as he pulled me through the vegetation after him. “Have been for two hours. Not that it’s difficult to do, him just talkin’ about himself the whole time.”
I was dumb with shock.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping sound as a babe in your little bed. Shaz didn’t want it looking like you were off on the rebound. Not with the divorce not filed yet—not if you’d be strung up for adultery and end up without a penny. She’s a wise woman, that one,” he concluded, wistfully.
I shook my head, still dazed. No. No, I didn’t want him to think I was on the rebound. I didn’t know what I wanted him to think. Jack. Jack was here. What was I going to say to him?
Declan pushed me in through the bathroom window as a precaution, the front door of the chalet being in direct, though distant, view of the sitting room. I heard him dust off his hands and whisper at me to get washed up and come and save them from my husband. “We’ve been trying to get him to bugger off but he won’t go till he’s seen you.” My heart lifted, despite itself, thinking how gallant that sounded. I felt Declan hover, knowing I was in shock and sensing it was cruel to leave me on my own. But eventually he thought the better of it. “You’ll be alright,” he whispered. “Just hurry!” And he crunched off back to the main house.
Somehow I managed a shower. I brushed my teeth, combed out my wet hair with shaking hands. No time to dry it. No time for makeup.