Chapter 20 #2
All the faces laughed back at her from their frames, and she was struck by how happy everybody appeared.
Which made her think about all the family photos that had been around her house growing up.
Her and her brothers and her parents, the image of cosy family domesticity.
Until her father had ruined it all in one fell swoop and the pictures had suddenly felt like fantasies framed in lies.
The memories unsettled her, chasing her outside to find Theo, his hair slicked back, his arms resting on the infinity edge, gazing down at the town below.
Crossing to the railing where they’d stood earlier, she looked down too.
Lights from restaurants and clubs lining the shore reflected in the water as the sound of distant music drifted up the hill.
The harbour wall was lit, as was the marina it protected, the gleaming shells of sleek expensive motorboats and yachts clearly visible. Beyond the stone walls, the lights from much smaller boats that could not be made out at this distance bobbed and twinkled their presence to all and sundry.
‘Crete tomorrow,’ he said, his quiet voice floating to her on the breeze, spreading goosebumps up her arms.
She nodded but didn’t glance his way. ‘Looking forward to it.’ Even if it would be awkward AF going back to his second stew after they’d mutually masturbated in his shower just this morning.
But they’d get past it. They’d gotten past having already spent a debauched night together when she’d first joined the crew – they’d manage this, too.
And it was only for another month. Tiffany had once put up with sharing a bunk with a woman who ate her own toenail clippings – she could certainly put up with the very easy-on-the eyes Theo Callisthenes for one lousy month.
‘You’re quiet,’ he observed. ‘Everything okay?’
She turned her head to find him watching her, concern wrinkling his brow, and her heart did a funny little giddy-up in her chest as she immediately doubted her previous assertion.
‘Yup.’ She returned her gaze to the dance of lights, which seem to suddenly blur, and she realised her eyes were a little misty.
Damn it, when had the man become so bloody attuned to the nuances of her body language? Was it not enough that he was hot AF?
Gripping the railing, she blinked rapidly, the swish of water barely penetrating her consciousness until he rose from the pool like Poseidon in her peripheral vision, pushing himself up onto the sandstone edging with a bulge of biceps, water sluicing off him as he stood.
Even then she didn’t turn to face him, sparing her frontal lobe his full frontal but conscious of him crossing behind her to where he’d left two towels earlier and then conscious of his footsteps coming closer.
His hands slid onto her upper arms first, his body slotting in behind hers a beat after. He didn’t press himself against her or pull her into him; he just stood there, a solid wall of heat as he said, ‘Tiffany?’ It was low and soft, and she shut her eyes against the tug of sympathy. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘You seem… sad.’
Oh, come on. Emotional intelligence now? Why was he being all the things she needed from a man that she couldn’t need from him ? ‘I was just… looking at your family photos. You all seem very close-knit.’
‘Ah.’
That was it. Just ah. But it was an ah that spoke volumes about his level of understanding.
His arms, still glistening with water droplets, slipped around her shoulders then and he did pull her gently to him, wrapping her up.
Tiffany could feel the dampness of his bare skin on her nape as he tucked her head under his chin and she squeezed her eyes shut, relaxing into his solid embrace.
‘It’s stupid,’ she said huskily, surprised by the emotional impact of Theo’s family photos.
Where had that come from? Was it because he was the only man she’d ever told about her complicated history with her family?
Or because it had been a perfect day and she’d been surrounded by all the beauty in Theo’s full life?
Was it this stark contrast to her own more solitary existence, that made her especially vulnerable to his quiet empathy?
‘Shh,’ he whispered. ‘It’s okay.’
And it felt okay as she stood there quietly in the circle of his arms, no need for words, just staring into the night, his body gently swaying.
Back and forth, soothing the raw emotion that had launched a stealth attack, blunting its sharp edges and tamping it back down until she didn’t feel like crying any more.
She felt like forgetting.
Like obliterating this episode of vulnerability from her memory banks. She hated how being vulnerable made her feel. Like she was that twelve-year-old kid again walking in on her dad and the neighbour’s wife, realising her life would never be the same.
So she chose oblivion. And she’d take it in the form of an orgasm.
But not just any orgasm, because she could go inside right now and bang one out.
An orgasm with a man who not only knew what he was doing but who’d figure out damn quickly why and do it anyway because for reasons neither she, nor she suspected he, wanted to examine too closely, they were already something more to each other than a one-and-done.
Healthy? No. But right now it felt necessary.