Chapter 43
I close my eyes and exhale. ‘Oh . . . my . . . God.’
Zach starts to laugh and there’s something about the awfulness of the situation that makes me join in. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he says.
‘No, I’m sorry. I’m cringing. That was ridiculous. I just didn’t want my mother to get the wrong impression about you and me.’
The look of amusement that remains on his face makes my temples colour. ‘And . . . what’s the right impression?’
I blow out my cheeks. ‘Frankly, who knows?’
I open the door enough to see that Mum’s little Mazda has disappeared.
‘Is the coast clear?’
‘It is.’
I look at the floor and bite my lip self-consciously. When I raise my head again his gaze is fixed on the precise, tender part of my mouth that I’ve just had between my teeth.
‘Thank you, Zach.’
‘What for?’
‘The fractions.’
‘Oh. No problem.’ He smiles and I notice for the hundredth time the way the creases around his eyes fan out in the most pleasing way. I have a sudden urge to touch them.
‘Well, I’d better go. And leave you to your . . . what was it?’
‘Panelling.’
‘Right.’
I reach across to the latch on the door again and he turns to leave. But before he steps over the threshold, he leans in to peck me on the cheek. At least, that’s what it starts as. Hardly more than the kind of air kiss that happens all the time in our line of work. Only now, when his cheek brushes against mine, neither of us moves.
My eyelids flutter closed as I soak in the warmth of his skin. I tilt my chin just a fraction closer to him and press the corner of my mouth in the dip beneath his cheekbone. I can feel his whole body relax, like a sigh that runs all the way through him. He kisses me again. I return it with another. Eventually, I click the latch shut and move into his arms, allowing my mouth to fully meet his.
There is something about kissing Zach that reminds me of the feeling you get from licking buttercream off a spoon. It invokes all of my senses, sparking every pleasurable neural pathway in my possession. What is it that makes that taste so much better than the finished cake, the very thing you are supposed to enjoy more? The intense sweetness on the tongue? Its soft, creamy mouthfeel? Or the knowledge that this is really not something you are meant to love as much as you do . . .
A soft moan escapes from somewhere deep inside me, as I run my fingertips along the nape of his neck and his palms meander down to my behind. I wrap my arms around his neck and we continue to kiss as we make our way to the stairs. I recline onto them as he crawls on top of me and I slide my knees either side of him. I get a full sense of how muscular his shoulders are as his lips trace my jaw and I dig my fingernails gently into the ripples of his back.
‘Oh Lisa,’ he sighs into my neck. There is something wildly sensual about the sound of my name in his mouth. I can feel it tingling and fizzing somewhere in my chest. He pulls back gently and allows his eyes to travel over my face, so luxuriantly that it’s as if he is trying to consign every tiny feature to memory.
He reaches up to trace the outline of my eyebrow with his fingertips, then runs it along my cheekbone, all the way to the tip of my chin. When it’s there, he tilts up my head and plants another sumptuous kiss on my lips. Involuntarily, I squeeze my thighs against the outside of his muscular legs.
‘I cannot get you out of my head,’ he says softly.
‘Is that true?’
‘Completely true.’
I squirm against his body, gently grinding my crotch against his. He is hard. Unbelievably so.
‘I wouldn’t keep doing that if I were you,’ he murmurs, kissing me again.
‘Doing what?’ I ask, as if I didn’t know.
‘That thing. With your hips.’
‘Oh. This?’
When I do it again, his eyelids flutter reflexively closed and he exhales.
‘That it is very. . . distracting ,’ he whispers. I can’t wipe the smile off my face. ‘I am endlessly distracted by you.’
‘Endlessly?’ I say, in a teasing tone.
There is a dark look in his eyes as he nods.
I reach up and touch his lips with my fingertips, gently tracing the outline of them. ‘And during those times when you are distracted . . . what are you thinking about, exactly? ’
He kisses my finger so quickly it’s almost a bite. When I pull it away, it’s still warm and wet from his tongue. ‘I’m not sure you’d want to know.’
‘Oh, I would. I would really want to know.’
He shakes his head.
‘Come on . Did you have a dirty dream about me?’ I tease, unable to suppress my smile.
‘There was nothing dirty about this. It was beautiful. There were fucking songbirds flying around my head.’
I chuckle. ‘Now I have to know . . .’
He sighs. ‘Well . . . among many other things, I have been thinking a great deal lately about what it would be like to . . .’
‘Go on.’
The light in his eyes seems to blaze. ‘To go down on you.’
My whole body floods with liquid heat.
I look at him for several long seconds. Then, I gently push him away, one hand on his chest, just far enough to give myself space.
I begin to lift up my skirt, inch by tantalising inch. He watches, enraptured, his chest inflated and immobile as he holds his breath. When the hem is skimming the top of my thighs, I scoot up my hips slightly and slide the fingers of both hands under the cool, white cotton of my pants.
He watches every uninhibited movement. Every carefree step. I gently wriggle them past my thighs, over my knees, down to my ankles. Then I kick them away with one foot. I slowly open my legs. He finally releases his breath.
I feel as if I have been reinvented. As a vamp, a vixen, a seductress, a goddess. He slides his hot, dry hands up my thighs.
Then he dips his head.
The kisses start inside my knee, a small corner of my body where I genuinely don’t recall ever being touched before. He is unhurried, refusing to be rushed. He moves like someone who is exactly where he wants to be and fully intends to savour every second. By the time he is gently biting the soft flesh on my inner thigh, my need for him is agonising.
His lips find the warm tenderness between my legs. Whatever it is that he next does with his mouth feels like some kind of sorcery. I lean on my elbows and tip back my head, as a mindless hedonistic bliss begins to build inside me. My to-do lists no longer exist. My schedules are irrelevant. My responsibilities are temporarily suspended.
In the space in my head, there is no room for laundry or work, or thinking of any kind. All there is room for is feeling .
More and more and more feeling . . .
I feel Zach freeze before I can work out why.
A second later, I realise what he’s heard. A key in the door. The rustle of a lock. I draw a sharp intake of breath as my panicked eyes meet his.
The next few moments unfold both in slow motion and way too fast to take it all in. I fling down the hem of my skirt. We scramble away from the stairs. I straighten my hair and rest an elbow on the bannister, like I’m propping up a bar.
The door flies open and in walks Leo.
‘What’s for dinner?’
He doesn’t look up from his phone, just throws his rugby kit on the floor, steps over my knickers and heads towards the kitchen. I squeeze past Zach, grab the pants and scrunch them into my fist.
‘Um. . . what are you doing back? I thought you were staying out?’
There must be something in my voice that makes him stop at the threshold and turn around.
‘I was. I’ve run out of dosh.’
I clear my throat. ‘This is Zach. Jacob’s new maths tutor.’
Leo mumbles something approximating a hello and continues to the fridge.
Zach and I make our way to the door. I open it up and he steps out onto the porch.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.
‘Don’t be. I’ll see you around.’
I nod. But before he leaves, he leans in one last time to say something, so softly that I can feel his breath against my ear.
‘You are . . . delicious .’