it only yesterday that she’d been in his arms? Yesterday when he’d cupped her face in his hands. ‘You’re leaving aren’t you?’
She’d nodded.
‘Why? We’re okay.’
Yeah, okay. Just okay. And they were, they fitted easily together. He held her when she needed him to, kissed her gently when he wanted to make love, took her with an infinite care that made her heart ache.
They’d made love just before she’d left for the airport. Deep inside she knew he was hoping she’d change her mind, that he could change her mind. But neither of them said it. And deep inside she knew that it was time to say goodbye, to move on, that changing her mind would be a mistake she wasn’t prepared to make. They’d lain naked on an old soft blanket that he always had in the back of the car, under the shade of a tree so that the warmth of the air bathed them, not the heat of the sun.
‘I love you, Kez.’ His blue gaze locked with hers. Trusting, open honest.
She linked her fingers through his. ‘I love you too, Simon.’ And she did. In her own way. The way that said she trusted him, she liked to be in his arms, he made her laugh….
‘You don’t have to go, or I can come with you.’
And the burning tears caught at the back of her throat as his soft, full lips took hers. He always made love to her gently, almost reverentially, but this time there had been an edge of desperation, too, and it made her sadder than any tears or pleas could have done.
She’d held him as he kissed her neck, cradled his head as his mouth had taken her nipple, teasing until her body started a gentle buzz. He’d burned a damp trail down her stomach with his tongue and then he’d sought out her nub, flicking it gently until lazy desire edged its way into her limbs and just as she’d teetered on the edge, just as the cry got caught in her throat he’d covered her body with his and thrust inside. They’d rocked together, their bodies perfectly matched, their rhythm a well-practised beat and each time he pushed deep inside she’d felt sadder. She’d wrapped her legs around him as the ache inside grew, pulling him deeper until she could feel his balls against her. She desperately wanted to bury him so far inside that he’d reach the bit of her that needed more. She’d tangled her fingers in his hair as he’d gazed at her. And his mouth had covered hers and as the feeling grew to that unbearable point, he’d sucked gently on her tongue, drew it into his own mouth and she could smell his desire, taste his pain as they came together. Her body quivered around his, clinging desperately to every last inch, every last drop. Then, still entwined, he’d dropped his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. And all she could think was she didn’t have to go, didn’t have to change everything. But she did. She had to sort herself out, become the person she knew she could be. Not the one that her past had forced her to become.
Kezia put the guitar gently down in the corner of the room, opened the curtains even wider so that the view would be there when she woke in the morning, and pulled the dress over her head.
The damage wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. She had a slit up the other side now. Granted, not quite straight, but it stopped short of her knicker elastic. Which was good. It had pulled open at the seam, fraying the fabric, with one small jagged tear, but she could probably mend it. The green-blue fabric shimmered as she laid it over the back of the chair and she shoved her espadrilles underneath. The top sheet of the bed was crisp and fresh under her fingertips as she dragged it back, then rummaged in her rucksack for a t-shirt.
She was pooped. Well and truly done in. Tired from the journey, and that edge of uncertainty when you don’t know where you were going and who you are going to meet. It could be good, she was used to it, but since her parents had gone it had been harder. There was nothing to comfort her at the end of the day. Well, there had been Simon, but she’d fucked that one up hadn’t she?
But she had needed to. It was right to move on, it had to be. Exhaustion hit her as she lay back, pulled the cool cotton sheet up to her chin and closed her eyes. All she had to do was think of Simon, imagine him holding her and everything would be fine. But it was a dark, enigmatic stranger that jumped into her head, two black eyes burning into her as though he could read every thought.
‘No.’ She growled and rolled onto her stomach, burying her head under her arms. She really, really did not want to think about him anymore. He was a domineering, bossy know-it-all who thought he could dismiss her with a wave of his hand.
She could still feel the warmth of his skin burning through her dress. She screwed up her eyes. No, no, no. She did not, definitely, one hundred per cent did not want to think about that. He’d held her for two seconds flat, then jumped away before she could make the mistake of touching him back. Bastard. What made him think he could touch her, then not let her do it back? What was he? Too fragile to touch? Handle with care?
Except, she didn’t want to touch him, anyway. Why the hell she’d been about to do that she didn’t know. He was a weirdo. A weirdo who crept up on you and disappeared into the shadows. A weirdo who was all controlling and thought everyone would jump at his command. Well, he’s got another thing coming. She was here now and she was going to stay. He worked for Marie, didn’t he? Not the other way round. So he couldn’t make her go. Not unless Marie said so. And she wouldn’t, would she?
She thumped the pillows into submission and rolled back over. He couldn’t make her do anything. Oh, God, how had he turned her on like that, making her stomach curl, her nipples prickle, made her burn hotly one minute and go goose-bump cold the next? Simon didn’t do that.
Damn the man, Simon did do that. Well, kind of that. When they’d made love it was nice, relaxing. He’d made her come. A nice rolling orgasm that unknotted the tension and sent her to sleep like a good bath would.
Just like a warm bath. Not like a hot-blooded, rampant shag that left her panting for more and begging for a rest.
Bugger. Where, the hell had that thought come from?
Had she ever had that? Most of her lovers had been like Simon, which she’d always thought made her the lucky one. She hadn’t encountered any of the shits that a lot of girls she’d known had. The ones who only ‘wanted it’ when they were half cut, the ones who called tweaking a nipple foreplay. No, most of the sex she’d had was with men she could call friends. Well, the closest she got to friends. A life on the move had left her with no one really close, no girlfriends she could chat to and confide in. Marie had come close to that, though in the short time she’d known her. Being nomadic left you able to strike up acquaintances quickly – yeah ‘acquaintance’ was the word – it made you open because you didn’t have time to be coy. You had to get on with it, then move on, and on, until one day…. you wanted to stop.
Hell, why had she thought this would be easy? Maybe it would be better in the morning, when she wasn’t tired. When she wasn’t thinking of James and how he seemed to turn her on one minute and scare her with that intense look the next. Yeah, it would be better. And she had no choice anyway. No car, no money to speak of and no one she could think of that would offer her a bed. And buried deep in the countryside with a man who didn’t seem to welcome people seemed as safe a place as anywhere.
He was hot though, very hot.
Her hand snaked down between her thighs, rested on a pussy that was damp from something that wasn’t perspiration. She groaned. Stroked gently with her fingertips. She hated him. She rolled over onto her side, her fingers still resting against the warmth, stroking absentmindedly, an automatic caress.
How the fuck was she going to sort out her
