Chapter 16 MAEVYN
THIEF:
What’s something you’ve never done but you want to?
ME:
I’m not sure if we know each other well enough for this answer.
THIEF:
Of course we do. No judgement. Lay it on me.
ME:
Anal
THIEF:
….
ME:
KIDDING! Just wanted to make you sweat.
THIEF:
Not sweating, but something’s definitely happening...
ME:
*crying-laugh-emoji* You go first…
THIEF:
Hang on, my brain’s still stuck on your answer.
THIEF:
Swim with sharks. Or scuba diving with any sea life really.
ME:
Yep. You’re on your own with that one. Okay. I want to know what it’s like to fall in love. But I’m just not sure if life will ever let me
THIEF:
Wow, that was deeper than I was expecting from you. It’s freaking me out, go back to talking about anal.
ME:
LOL. Hey, you remember the other week you asked about the worst date I’ve ever been on?
THIEF:
Yeah…?
ME:
I don’t have anything to compare it to, but when you came over to bake with us the other week. I think that was the best.
***
It’s a beautiful day to look like an absolute dork in a harness. My leg shakes as I stand on the platform, helping the kids as they step off one route and guide their safety hooks over the next transfer point so they can keep moving through the course.
We made it to the South Trevally Nature Lodge about six hours ago, after waking up at an ungodly hour to make the short bus ride down.
Everyone got set up in their assigned cabins, the hosts gave us an in-depth introduction to the whole park, and then we had lunch as we were separated into six different groups to complete all the activities over the next forty-eight hours.
I help the last kid step onto my platform, then run her hook along the ropes so she can pass me. Westley moves over the course towards me, followed by Lydia. Her group must be taking over next to assist on this task.
For the most part, I’ve been able to keep my fear of heights at bay.
The platforms have all been steady and wide enough that I felt somewhat secure moving between them.
I’ve been trying to keep a brave face in front of the kids so they see there’s nothing to worry about.
Of course there’s not. We’re harnessed in.
Perfectly safe. Except now, we need to move on to the higher part of the course, where apparently the steps need to get smaller. Who fucking designed this?
“Doing okay?” Westley asks as he steps up behind me.
I run my hook back and forth along the wires. “Peachy.”
“Isn’t this amazing?” Lydia beams as she looks over the course, looking like a damn professional in her tight black spandex and pristine running shoes.
“Yep. Beautiful.”
“Are you gonna go?” West asks.
And let him see how uncoordinated I’ll look getting through this? Absolutely not. I notice Lydia watching us and try not to visibly panic. Quickly, stepping into West, I slide an arm around his back, letting my hand rest just above his arse.
“After you,” I say with a smile. “I prefer the view from back here.” My hand drops lower, and I squeeze his arsecheek. Holy hell, that thing’s tight.
He raises an eyebrow at me, muffling a laugh with his fist. “Did you just squeeze my arse?” he whispers.
“Lydia’s looking. I panicked,” I say through my teeth.
“Okay.” He smiles. “I’ll have to remember that excuse for later.” He winks, then steps around me, continuing the course. I blow out a heavy breath.
It’s a struggle not to openly stare at Westley as he moves past me and steps out on the bridge, but then I remember, we’re meant to look like we’re dating. In love.
He’s wearing a dark green muscle tank that exposes his perfectly sculpted arms and dips lower on his side, showing off his obliques, including the tattoo across his ribs. Why is that area so hot? A shiver rolls up my spine as I imagine doing scandalous things to that body.
Resigning to the fact that I need serious help, I pull my phone from the side pocket of my leggings, thankful there’s still reception out here.
ME:
Do you think in real relationships people fantasise about their partner all the time… like, sexually.
Pres responds immediately.
PRESLEY:
Ummm, yes. In fact, I think it would be more concerning if you didn’t.
ME:
Cool. So, there’s nothing wrong with me then.
PRESLEY:
If we’re talking about the man you’re FAKE dating, then the jury’s still out on that one.
ME:
*middle-finger-emoji *
PRESLEY:
Is there a reason why we’re not taking a chance on lumbersnack daddy?
ME:
I should never have sent you that picture.
A few days ago, Westley was working in his backyard.
I have absolutely no clue what he was building, I just know it involved him shirtless, a saw in his hand, running back and forth, making all the muscles and veins in his arms pop, and halfway through, he flipped his hat from front-facing to backwards.
I don’t even remember pulling up my chair on the balcony to sit down and watch, but I do remember falling off it when he caught me staring… We’re not talking about it.
PRESLEY:
The fuck you shouldn’t have! It was critical information for me to have in order to assist you in your freak outs. The man is fine. Sounds like a total sweetheart. Freak out granted.
ME:
You’re not helping.
PRESLEY:
Pushing is helping.
ME:
I’m not looking to actually date. You know this. Aurora is my focus.
PRESLEY:
Plenty of single mums date, babe. Plenty of people in your…situation go on to have normal things in life. And, baby I love you, but I can’t help you with the orgasms, I like dick too much.
I snort at Presley’s last message.
“Mmm, you gotta appreciate a man who likes to get down and dirty,” Lydia says. I clutch my phone to my chest, then follow her eyes to where they’re fixed on Westley.
His muscles flex and tense with every step. I’m definitely appreciating the view. The moment sours when I realise this woman is openly ogling my man, then telling me about it. Well, not my man, but she doesn’t know that.
“Yes, I do.” Staking my claim, I look past her to where her husband stands at the last platform. Even in the middle of the bush, he looks like he’s ready to run a meeting about stock, or finances, or something equally as boring.
“How did you meet Aurora’s dad?”
My daughter’s advice comes back to me, to seize the opportunity when it strikes to clear up the mess I got myself in. I take a deep breath before I turn to look Lydia in the eyes. “Aurora’s never met her birth father. Westley’s all we need.”
Lydia’s head tilts in curiosity.
“Maevyn?” Westley’s deep voice calls from across the way, and my heart jumps to my throat. “You coming? We gotta keep moving.”
“Lovely chatting, Lydia.” I take the out I’m given. I did my job. I told her Aurora’s real dad isn’t in the picture. With a toothy smile at her confused face, I move my hook to the next rope and grip the line above my head.
The board wobbles as I move on to the first step, and my fingers tighten, nails digging into the palm of my hand. For some reason, I look down, and I freeze in place.
“Ah, Maevyn?” Lydia’s voice sounds as though she’s speaking underwater. “The next group of kids is starting to cross. You need to keep moving.”
My foot slides across the step, but the second it feels as though my body is ready to follow, I pull it back, closing my eyes tight.
Air heaves through my lungs, and I feel hot all over, until a rough, steady palm coasts along my lower back, resting on my hip.
The smell of apple and sage fills my nose.
“What’s going on?” Westley asks.
“I’m afraid of heights,” I pant.
“But you’ve made it this far, and you seemed fine.” He sounds confused, but it doesn’t stop his hand from slipping under my shirt, his thumb running back and forth over the bare skin of my lower back and soothing the anxiety.
“They were lower. And not… so… flimsy.”
He chuckles. “You’re perfectly safe.”
“I know that,” I snap. I don’t mean to, but fuck, someone get me the fuck down from here. “Sorry.”
“Okay,” he murmurs, steady and patient, as his hand wraps around mine where I’m still gripping the ropes.
He detaches my iron grip and settles it behind his neck.
I don’t know for sure, because my eyes are still clamped shut, but I can feel the ends of his hair tickle my wrist and where my finger just grazes the stubble under his chin.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. Can you look at me? ”
“That would require me opening my eyes.”
“Is everything alright?” Lydia shouts.
“Oh, yeah!” Westley responds. “She just struggles when she doesn’t have her hands on me.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “You dick.”
“Whatever visualisation helps you.”
I laugh again through a choppy breath as I feel Westley step back, pulling me along with him. My hand tightens around his neck.
“Just focus on the sound of my voice. The feel of my hands on you. I won’t let go.” His fingers grip around my waist, tight and strong.
One foot in front of the other, I let Westley lead me across this death trap they’re calling a bridge. I focus on his hand on my hip, and I can’t remember the last time a man before Westley touched my skin, but I’m certain it didn’t feel like this.
“Big step this time,” he says. My eyes flutter open, and I see we’ve reached the end of this run, ready to move on to the next. “Do you still need my help?”
I feel him lean away from me, ever so slightly, but enough for me to notice the loss of his heat, so I nod, my eyes locked on his. “Are you a thief or a knight in a shiny toolbelt?”
“Why am I a thief?” he asks, his thumb brushing back and forth over my skin.
“You’re always stealing my thoughts.”
With purpose, his arm curls further around my back, pulling me until my chest presses against his.
He squeezes, and my feet come off the wooden boards and I’m placed on the platform behind us.
It puts me just above his eye level, and I stay there, lost in his green gaze.
As my hands drop from his neck, falling to his chest, I feel his heart thrumming beneath my palm.
“Ugh, why don’t you get a room?”
I frown and look over Westley’s shoulder to a young girl waiting with an unamused scowl and far too much lip gloss.
Westley squeezes my hip. “You heard the girl.”
I slap his shoulder and step back, moving to the other side and onto the next part. Thankfully, it doesn’t go up any higher, and it’s a straight run of planks. There’s a rope on either side, about waist high, so I hold on and start to step across.
“Hey, with everything going on, I forgot to mention the wedding is actually an overnight thing.”
I look over my shoulder. Westley follows close behind, chewing his lip and bracing for my reaction.
“Overnight? I must say, your effort to work your way into my bed is commendable.”
He pinches my side, making me squeal.
“Smartarse.” He smirks. “It’s at the groom’s family farm, nearly three hours south. There’s accommodation on site.”
I run my hand over my face. “That’s gonna be a lot of faking.”
“I think we’re doing alright so far.”
“Yeah.” I scoff. “But our main audience has been a bunch of twelve-year-olds.” I chew on my lip as I step onto the next platform, catching up with the rest of our group. “Will we have to share a bed?”
“I’m sure there’ll be a couch I can stay on. It’ll be fine.”
I nod, my stomach doing a weird swoop at the thought of spending a night together.
“You’ll have to try your best to act like a gentleman.” I shuffle forward as the child ahead of me moves. “I know it’ll be hard since you find me so irresistible.”
“Thanks.” He chuckles, and I turn my head to smile back at him, not realising he was leaning down to kiss my cheek, and instead, his mouth lands right on mine.
I gasp, my fingers touching my lips as if I’m trying to catch the evidence. To convince myself it even happened.
“Next!” a guy shouts behind me, as I continue to stare at West, but his eyes are locked on my mouth. What is he thinking? Is he uncomfortable? Is he… curious?
Arms come to my biceps, and I’m guided to the edge of the platform, staring at the ground below.
“See you on the ground!” the guy shouts again.
I look back over my shoulder. “What?”
Before I can even figure out what this guy’s talking about, since my mind is still fixated on the accidental kiss, I’m shoved off the ledge and flying down a zipline. Screaming.
My legs are flailing about, my helmet has dropped over my eyes, and I definitely swallowed a bug. I think my heart has flatlined by the time hands catch me at the end, and my shaking feet land on solid ground.
I push my helmet up, panting. I think I blew my back out, and I didn’t even get an orgasm with it.
Wheezing laughter greets me, along with my daughter, who stands in front of me with her phone held up.
The tour guides unlatch the hooks I didn’t even notice getting attached to my harness at the last stop, and usher me aside when another person lands beside me.
“You’re right.” Westley grins. “Completely irresistible.”