Chapter 15
Noah
The world is a joyful, wondrous place when I wake the next morning. The sky is a perfect, cerulean blue through the open curtains. I’m alone, but that can’t be helped. Honor couldn’t risk a night with me in case her children came looking for her.
Honor. I cross my arms behind my head. Last night was the most extraordinary explosion of desire and connection.
I’ve wanted to do all those things and more to her in a very real way ever since I met her in Mum’s kitchen, and in a much more abstract way ever since I watched her, glazed-eyed, on morning TV after my night shifts.
But the proposal I made to her wasn’t premeditated.
It was born out of so much pent-up frustration and outrage over the way she allowed that fucking husband of hers to treat her.
I never seriously thought she’d go for something like that—not until I had her on the bed, anyway.
Not until she settled herself on the pillow, and looked up at me, and showed me that the looks I’d seen her giving me—for the heated looks of the past few weeks had seemed very much mutual to me—were based on a real interest.
I also never, in my wildest fantasies, thought she’d be so receptive, so quickly ignited.
Like the proposition itself, the dirty running commentary I delivered was inspired by the reactions I had to her lying there, in the moment, as well as my idle fantasies while observing her over the past couple of days.
I thought I’d have to tread carefully. Warm her up slowly.
Take care not to scare her while suggesting ways I could help her through her husband’s infidelity.
Suggesting being the operative word. Not telling.
Certainly not showing. But she got into the fantasy as quickly as I did, and the reality of being with her was far fucking hotter than any of the fantasies I’d talked her through.
Her body is… flawless. So beautiful, as I told her, with those small, high breasts and that pale skin of her stomach.
Last night plays out in searing flashes.
Her face beneath me as I rolled her nipples between my fingers.
Eyelashes fluttering. Mouth open. Jaw tightening.
Licking down her stomach. Tasting her. The tension of her around my fingers.
The spasms of her body as she came in my mouth.
By the time I made my way back up to kiss her, I was on the brink of release myself. But last night was for her. It wasn’t about me getting off; it was about showing her what she was missing by sitting at home while her husband humped his way through life.
But when she kissed me, relaxed and cat-like and smiling against my lips, she asked me if there was the remotest chance of my having a condom in my shorts pocket.
‘Afraid not.’ I laugh-groaned and rubbed her nose with mine. ‘Anyway, this is your night. I’m fine.’
‘You don’t feel like you’re fine.’ She put a hand on my arse and pulled me closer in towards her nakedness, wrapping her legs around me, and I nearly lost it then and there.
‘Don’t worry about me.’ This was requiring a stupendous effort. I was so close. I kissed her again, revelling in the feeling of her arms and legs around me.
‘Are you kidding me? This is a two-way thing, Noah. I’m not in the market for a sex slave. I want to. I’ve been drooling over that happy trail of yours since I got here. You are. Absolutely. Gorgeous.’
She manoeuvred herself up and guided me onto my back.
Now I was in her position, lying back against the cushions, gazing up at her as she grinned down at me, her hair brushing my face and neck as she kissed me.
Watching her bite her lip as she unbuttoned my shirt.
Inhaling sharply as she kissed her way down my happy trail and, miracle of miracles, unbuttoned my shorts.
And then, universes collided as she brushed her lips against the cotton of my boxers, the fabric barely containing my erection, and, tugging down the waistband, took me in that mouth.
Her mouth. Her exquisite, supple mouth that had formed the basis of all my fantasies.
A reality that surpassed all of them, because holy fucking shit, the reality of her was beyond my wildest dreams.
The trestle table in the shady area of the terrace groans with food.
A massive platter spills over with nectarine and cantaloupe melon, both of which are abundant in Provence at this time of year.
Fresh baguettes in their paper sleeves wait on the heavy wooden breadboard.
And there are cured meats, and soft cheese, and local honey. Life is good.
Mum and Dad are already sipping coffee, as are Evelyn and Angus.
Angus has lovely little Baby Rose next to him in a plastic highchair.
They’ve wisely left her naked, aside from her nappy.
Her tiny torso is streaked with sticky trails which look to be nectarine, given the number of crushed, pulpy segments abandoned on the tray of the highchair.
She has one squished in one plump little paw; in the other is a half-chewed crust of bread.
Eddie’s focus is wholly on the bowl of hot chocolate that he’s tipping with two hands, his face buried in it to the extent that there’s chocolate on his nose.
But there are three seats empty. Honor and her kids aren’t down yet. There’s a weird stab of apprehension: that she may regret last night, that she may regret giving herself over to me so freely. I, on the other hand, have never regretted anything less.
‘Morning, morning.’
I rake my hand through my damp hair and take my seat.
‘You’ve woken up on the right side of the bed. Good.’
Mum’s expression is pinched. She wasn’t thrilled about my personality failure last night. She definitely has nothing to worry about on that front today.
I nod at Angus and Evelyn and give them a chipper smile. Lean over to high-five Eddie, before sliding into my chair. Christ, I’m ravenous.
I slice off a big chunk of baguette and tear it.
Miraculous. The outside is perfectly crispy, and the inside comes apart in my hands.
Slather it in Gui’s strawberry compote and take a huge bite.
I’ve just leant back in my chair, eyes shut in foodie ecstasy, when the slap of bare feet hits the ground behind me and Rollo appears over my shoulder.
‘G’day, mate.’ Rollo’s going through an Aussie phase. Honor says he’s been watching too much of an Australian TV show on Netflix.
‘G’day.’ I twist in my chair, ostensibly to ruffle Rollo’s curls, but really to see if Honor’s turned up yet.
And she has. And she’s glorious. Damp hair slicked off her face in a ponytail.
She’s wearing the same black swimming costume and denim cutoffs as yesterday.
The little beauty. She’s skittish; her eyes dart around the table, landing on me for a split second before focusing on Evelyn, who gets a genuine smile.
‘Morning, Honor,’ I say cheerfully, patting the seat next to me. I’m causing mischief, but I also want to put her at ease. ‘Have a seat. Did you sleep well?’
She narrows her eyes at me. ‘Very well, thank you. I’m just—uh—I’ll just go get myself a coffee. Anyone else?’
She practically runs into the house before anyone can answer.
‘I should have asked her to refill the cafetiere,’ Evelyn says.
‘I’ll do it.’ I jump up and grab it; follow Honor into the house.
When I get into the little butler’s pantry off the kitchen, she has her back to me and she’s busying herself with the Nespresso machine.
That black swimming costume shows off most of her flawless back, and her cutoffs hug her delicious little arse perfectly.
Knowing that things have shifted between us, that I can (hopefully) go to her, is the most extraordinary feeling.
‘Hey.’ I keep my voice soft and she jerks her head around. The look she gives me is a mix of fear and desire. She flicks her gaze down my body and back up again and licks her lips.
‘Hi.’ She turns back to the coffee machine.
I cross the small space and put the cafetiere down so I can slide my hands over her shoulders and down her arms from behind her. I bury my nose in her damp, fragrant hair and kiss the side of her head.
‘You okay? Any regrets?’
She sags back into me and turns her face to mine.
‘No. Definitely not. I just… haven’t done the morning after thing in a long time. I don’t even know how to act.’
‘I know. It’s okay. It’s just me. You’re good.’
I bend my head so I can kiss those beautiful lips gently, and thread my arms around her waist, pulling her into me. My cock stirs in appreciation against her arse, and she makes a little noise in her throat.
I stroke her stomach through the thick knit of her swimming costume.
‘This is a very sexy swimming costume.’
I drop a kiss on her shoulder, then another. Nudge the strap with my nose.
‘And we’re in the butler’s pantry. Remember what I said I wanted to do to you in here?’
She laughs nervously. ‘It was pretty memorable.’
‘I’m very tempted, as you can feel. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.’ My hand moves higher on her stomach and I trace the underside of her breasts with my thumb through the swimming costume. She grabs my other hand, which is still on her stomach, and holds onto it.
‘Can I tempt you upstairs after breakfast?’ I mumble into her neck. ‘Any chance you can excuse yourself for an hour to deal with some “pressing work stuff”?’
She twists around and leans into me, slipping her arms tentatively around my neck, her lips brushing softly against mine. I wrap my arms around the exquisite, silky skin of her back and squeeze her as I lose myself in kissing her.
‘It’s a date,’ she says a few minutes later.