His familiar musky scent surrounded her, triggering memories she didn’t want to have: of him holding her, kissing her, making love to her. Then his lips pressed tight together; was he remembering too? He stared at her, his eyes tracing the length of her body.
“Your hair’s great, so like you, impulsive,” he said.
“I prefer people to look at my head.”
He winced and she twisted away. Why did she feel the need to punish him? Softening her voice, she said, “I live up the hill if you want to walk with me. I have my own flat now.”
He took her arm, looping his own through as if by instinct. “Do you still sail?” he said.
She froze and waited for him to apologise, but he didn’t; instead he raised his brows, grey eyes dark in the shadows.
“No,” she said. “I don’t, never again.”
“You could, I saw people with worse injuries in the Paralympics.”
“I don’t sail.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “Not since the accident, I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because I’m frightened of the sea.” She breathed deep, as if she were still out there in the waves, fighting for breath.
He winced, standing still on the snow-covered pavement, his face pale. “I didn’t know that, no one told me. Sailing was your life; it should be you with the gold medals, not me.”
Her shoulders slumped and she stared at the floor. Making him feel guilty wouldn’t help either of them, they couldn’t go back two years and mend her leg.
“I might never have made it,” she said. “It’s not just about talent, it takes drive and ambition. I don’t know if I had that.”
“You did.”
“When I was young, we all have it when we’re young. Anyway, I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, my life is my own. You left and we have both moved on.”
“I left because you broke up with me.”
Carly stood still, remembering the sound of her own screams when the doctors said her professional career was over, wishing she’d died in the ocean that day, because if she lost sailing, she lost everything. It was sailing that brought her alive, gave her friends and a sense of belonging. Best of all, it had brought her Daniel, who had loved and supported her, before he let her down too, like her mother had. She couldn’t watch his success, it would turn her bitter, the only way to save herself was to break away from her team mates, from Daniel, to start a new and different life.
A familiar throbbing pain spread through the wasted muscles of her right leg and she froze. He stood beside her on the frost-covered street and she was grateful the cold weather hid her burning cheeks, Daniel had never seen her like this, hobbling like a woman three times her age. He was fit and well, a hero to many. The differences between them were too huge, he mingled with celebrities and beautiful models; there was no place in his life for a girl who couldn’t even dance properly. It was guilt that drove him toward her, guilt that he had the career they’d both dreamed of.
Her foot slipped on the ice and she stood still, breathing deep, letting the cold winter air leech away her frustration. For most of her life, she’d been a sportswoman, agile and healthy, driving her body into greater and greater challenges, testing it to its limits. Never did she expect walking up Main Street on an icy day to be so hard.
“I could carry you?” he said.
Carly shook her head, white clouds drifting from her mouth as she panted, shuffling forward. Thankfully, they were nearly at her flat, it was time for him to go, he was making her heart race and head spin. Juggling her cane, she opened her handbag.
“Let me help,” he said.
“I can manage.”
She found her keys and unlocked the communal door to the flats. Festive music drifted from behind one of her neighbour’s doors, reminding her of nights spent dancing in the arms of the man who stood beside her. Did he expect her to invite him in for coffee? She wasn’t going to. And there was no reason for them to meet again.
“Goodnight,” she said.
“Oh.” He stepped back. “Goodnight.” He squeezed her arm and even through the thick coat she wore, his touch made her jump.
Stepping through the doorway, she turned to close it, pausing to look at him standing outside, watching her. His mouth was set and flakes of snow were sprinkled on the dark shoulders of his coat. She drew a shuddering breath. It could never work between them, but her fingers still gripped the door, unable to close it in his face. She moistened her lips; a hard band was across her throat. She couldn’t leave things as they were, Daniel had been the only person who made her feel loved. The ferocious ambition she once had, the need to prove herself in a town that considered her worthless had ebbed away. She still blamed him for the accident, but she didn’t hate him anymore.
“Would you like to come in for coffee?” she said.
He followed her into the hall, closing the door behind him as if he feared she would change her mind. In silence, she led him along the corridor to her ground floor flat, jabbing the key twice against the outside of the lock until she finally managed to turn it. Warmth hit her face when she pushed open the door and switched on the light.
“Nice place,” Daniel said, looking at the light green regency-striped wallpaper. A circular mirror hung from the wall and after hanging their coats on her Victorian hat stand, she turned to check her hair, flushing as she saw him looking at her in the reflection. The corridor seemed even smaller with him behind her and she fumbled with her gloves, dropping one.
“Let me,” he said, picking it up and putting it on the radiator to dry.
“Thanks.” She propped her cane against the wall and took hold of the handrail that led around her flat, before yanking her hand back. There was no way Imogen would have needed support to get around her own house.
“Good idea, that,” he said, pointing.
“Liam put it up and helped me decorate. He’s been so good to me.”
“I wish I could have helped you.”
“Let’s just leave the past for one night, hey? We’ll go around in circles every time we meet if we keep talking about that. What’s done is done. Now, do you still take sugar?”
She grasped the rail again and walked into her kitchen, switching on the lights and kettle. Daniel sat on one of her white chairs at the granite breakfast table, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Collecting mugs from the cupboard, she noticed him peering at her smart new cooker and fridge — while her earning powers were vastly below his, her hard work in the shop gave her a comfortable lifestyle. Pouring water into her coffee jug, she jumped when he spoke behind her.
“I have missed you,” he said. “My relationship with Imogen was never like the one I had with you.”
Her hand shook as she filled the cups. “It wouldn’t be, she’s a different person, as we were then — younger and less stressed. We lived in a sailing bubble where nothing else mattered but the results of the next race and real life isn’t like that.”
“No.” He came up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders, thumbs kneading into her back, smoothing the tense muscles. She froze, dropping the milk carton back onto the worktop. What should she do? If she moved away now he’d get the hint and sit back down, drink his coffee, and they would talk about Haven Bay, maybe even his Olympic win, before he left, closing the door behind him, allowing her to go to bed, alone.
The fingers smoothed down her back, sliding under her arm, brushing, briefly, the sides of her breast. She swallowed, unable to move, sweat forming on her hands; this was so wrong, but she couldn’t stop it. The reckless streak that used to make her race against a raising gale was still inside her. Turning, she put her arms around his waist, resting against his chest, feeling safe for the first time since he’d left.
“Carly,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her.
His lips crushed against hers, parting them and reaching hungrily into her mouth, stubble grazing her cheek. She drew back, then slid her arms around his neck. Would she regret this in the morning? With mixed emotions, she kissed him back, feeling equal love and anger for this man who held her in his arms. She couldn’t back away though; wrong though it was, she wanted him tonight.
Leaning down, he lifted her into his arms, holding her easily against him and she rested her head against his warm shoulder while he carried her into the dark bedroom. Here, he laid her on the bed, reaching down to kiss her again, before straightening and gazing into her eyes. She saw both love and pain.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he traced his finger down her cheek, stroking her hair, then trailing it across her lips and down her throat. She shivered and watched him follow the V neckline of her dress, dipping in to brush the top of her breasts. Moving up, she hugged her knees and bent her head forward so he could undo the row of tiny buttons that led down her spine. He smoothed her hair to the side to expose her neck, which he kissed with a light brush of his mouth, before unfastening the first of the buttons, making his way slowly down her back, touching his lips to each inch of bare flesh. Helplessly, she closed her eyes, aware only of the pressure of his lips and fingertips brushing her skin.
It didn’t feel like it used to. There was a sense of desperation, an overwhelming desire for each other. She wanted to touch his skin, to feel the tiny scars and imperfections he’d gained since they’d last slept together, to learn what had happened to him while they’d been apart. Slipping his hands under the straps of her dress, he eased the fabric over her breasts until it puddled on her lap.
“Sit up,” he said, then leaned down to slide the garment off her legs, dropping it to the floor so she lay in only her bra and knickers. Instinctively she put a hand over the scars on her right leg, where a chunk of flesh was missing, before he moved it away, kissing the twisted skin.
Clutching the thin cotton of his shirt, her fingers fumbled on the buttons as she pulled them loose, sliding her hands against his warm, smooth chest and hard, muscular stomach. The bed dipped as he lay beside her, his body silhouetted against the window, skin against hers as he turned to face her. Supporting herself on her elbow, she pressed her mouth hard against his lips, the belt on his jeans digging into her stomach. As he eased down the cups on her bra, he flicked his tongue against her nipples and she squirmed.
Reaching for his belt, she undid the clasp, followed by the button and zip; sitting up, Daniel pushed his jeans down and onto the floor. Through the fabric of his shorts, she caressed him as he unclipped her bra and pulled it off, she shivered, then his hands were sliding over her again, tracing across the skin, learning the position of every dip and crease. His fingers brushed her knickers, sliding tantalizingly between her legs while she drew in a sharp breath, easing her knees apart so he could touch her.
Hooking his hands into the elastic, he drew her pants down and she kicked them off her feet. As he removed his shorts, she leaned down and took him in her mouth, tracing her tongue and lips up him, licking the tip while he moaned and she smiled, loving his loss of control. Then he turned, moving her tenderly back onto the pillow, before his hair tickled her thighs and mouth pressed against her intimate parts, spreading her with his fingers so he could caress her labia and clitoris with his tongue.
She groaned, wiggling beneath him, unable to move; the pressure of his forearms keeping her down as she drew in her breath with sharp gasps. Then he turned to lay beside her and lifted her left leg over his hip, sinking deep into her, wrapping his arms tight over her shoulders as they rocked together until she could bear it no more and gasping, she buried her face against his neck as her hips bucked and with a groan, he followed suit.
Sweating, panting, she rested against him, her legs still parted. A dull ache started up her right one and he loosened his arms, helping her lie back on the covers. Resting beside her, he pulled the duvet free and draped it back over her, lying down and holding her close.
Breathing deep, she moved her head on his shoulder, sweat tricking down her forehead, aching and hot between her legs. He inclined his head to rest against her, and she closed her eyes, hearing only the thudding of his heart.
The unaccustomed weight woke her, his arm draped over her chest, leg hooked over hers. Wiggling out from under him, she sat up, looking down at his head on the pillow — eyes closed and eyelashes resting on his cheek. His hair lay tangled and one hand gripped the duvet. Pale morning light flooded in the window and she glanced at the clock: six
A.M.
She hadn’t intended to fall asleep with him; it seemed more personal than making love, but she could hardly have asked him to leave.
It had been a long time since she woke with a man in her bed and even longer since it was a person she wanted there. Not for two years in fact, when they’d lain together the night before the accident. Life had been so much simpler then. Did it always get more complicated as you got older, or was it just their lives that became so confused? Staring at him, she had the urge to kiss his lips, draw her hand one last time over his shoulders. Because this couldn’t happen again, it shouldn’t have happened this time. The feelings she had for him were too strong to mess with, her heart would be left broken again.
Sliding out of bed, she closed her eyes, blinking back hot tears. Up to now, she thought the reason she couldn’t settle down was because she hadn’t met the right person yet, but she knew now that she’d never meet the right one. Daniel was the only man she wanted to share her life with, and it could never work between them. With virtually no family, she would always be alone, tending her shop and sitting on the harbour benches watching the sailing boats, thinking about how things could have been.
Shaking her head, she grabbed her dressing gown and wrapped it around her, tying the cord tight. She wouldn’t think like that, it would only make her depressed and there was no need to be, she had friends, very good ones, and a community that cared and supported her. That was more than many people had. All right, so she couldn’t have Daniel, but neither could most people either, unless he was intending on playing around a lot.