Chapter Eighteen
Linc
My eyes nearly fall out of my head.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open, but neither of us moves.
My mouth opens, but no words come out. Jesus. What do I say to that?
The doors begin to slide shut, and I throw a hand to stop them. Without a word, Elora walks out, and I follow her. Together we cross the foyer, which is relatively busy, with guests checking in and making their way to and from the restaurant.
It’s only when we exit the building and start walking toward our apartment that she speaks. “Cat got your tongue?”
I look across at her. Her cheeks are a little pink, and her eyes are bright.
“Kinda,” I say. “I’m speechless.”
The pink deepens. “It’s okay. I don’t know what made me say that. It’s been an emotional day, that’s all, and Edmund told me that he had a cancer scare a few years ago, and he’s fine, but he was thinking about getting a tattoo that said ‘carpe diem’, and it made me think about the jump today, and how sometimes you have to take risks. But I shouldn’t have said anything. I know you kinda told me you won’t get involved, and I respect that, and if you don’t want to I completely understand—”
“Lora,” I say. I stop walking and catch her arm. She turns to face me, pink and flustered.
“Of course I want to go to bed with you,” I say softly, cupping her face with one hand.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
I give a short laugh. “Yeah. But… I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with you.”
“Because of what Fraser said?”
I tip my head from side to side. “Partly. But more because after the cruise I’m leaving the country, and it’s going to be hard anyway, and I don’t want to make it even more difficult for either of us.”
She chews her bottom lip. “I understand.” She keeps her gaze fixed on mine, though, and gradually, we both smile.
“Stop it,” I murmur, stroking her cheek with my thumb.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re using your womanly wiles.”
That just makes her laugh.
She looks so beautiful tonight. And she’s been so lovely, coming with me to see Edmund, carrying the conversation whenever things felt awkward, and being like Aloe vera for my poor, wounded soul. I adore this girl. And I want her so badly. But equally I don’t want to hurt her. Aaahhh… what do I do?
Follow my head or my heart?
“Why?” I ask.
She blinks. “Why what?”
“Why ask me, when I’m leaving soon? You know it can’t lead to anything. Why not use your newfound courage to start dating, and meet a guy with whom you have a chance of something long term?”
Her eyes are clear and honest. “Because trust takes a long time to build, and I’m not sure any guy will be interested in waiting that long for me. And I’m afraid a man will hurt me again. But I trust you. With all my heart. Is that crazy? I haven’t seen you for so long. But I know you won’t hurt me physically. I know you care for me. And that you’ll be gentle. And I… I need someone like that, for the first time. I know technically I’m not a virgin, but I kind of am, you know? I suppose I’m asking you to help me. I understand that it can’t lead to anything, and I’m okay with that. I’m not going to weep and wail when you have to go. I’ll be upset, of course, whether we sleep together or not, but I’m hoping we can stay in touch now and be friends. But I don’t expect more. I was just hoping that, before you leave, you would do this for me.”
It’s a long speech, heartfelt, as always, because she wears her heart on her sleeve. And I’m so incredibly touched, it makes my throat tighten.
I can only guess what she’s been through, and how hard it is for her to think about opening up to a man in that way. On the jump platform I asked her, Do you trust me? and she replied immediately, Of course . She’s telling me she likes me so much that she trusts me to care for her, and to be gentle with her if we have sex, and I can’t think of a nicer compliment for a woman to give a man.
I drop my gaze to her mouth, and her lips part in response. Slowly, I lower my lips to hers, and kiss her.
It’s a quick kiss, no tongues, just a press of our lips together several times, but it sends my heart racing, and from the way she inhales I can tell hers is doing the same.
I lift my head and take her hand. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
We walk the short distance to the apartment, I open the door, and follow her inside. Neither of us switches on the lights. The sun has set now, and to our right Queenstown is springing to life, glowing in the semi-darkness like a jewel, while the moon hangs over the mountains, white and gleaming. The windows have automated shutters, but I leave them open and toss my wallet and keys onto the coffee table in front of the sofa.
“Come and sit with me,” I tell her.
She takes off her sandals and lowers down. I sit next to her, not quite touching, and we turn toward one another.
“Okay,” I say, taking her hand in mine. “We need to talk about this.”
Her face falls. “You’re going to turn me down.”
“No. I’m not.” I watch her eyes light up again. “But if we’re going to sleep together, I need to explain a few rules.”
She sits quietly, her eyes huge.
“First,” I tell her, “your room,” and I point toward it, “is your safe space. I will never, ever, go into it without your permission. So if you need time alone at any point, you can go in there and I won’t follow you in. Understand?”
She nods.
“If we do this,” I continue, “I need you to know that you are going to be in charge. You are going to drive the action, and you’ll tell me what you feel comfortable doing. If at any point you want to stop, you tell me to stop, and I’ll stop immediately. And I won’t get cross or upset, I promise. This is all about you. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“You’re going to tell me when you’re ready, and you’re going to give me permission every step of the way. I’m not even going to come without your permission.” Her lips curve up, and I add, “Probably. I’ll do my best.”
She giggles, then glances toward the cabinet at the other end of the room. “I was wondering… do you think it would be a good idea if I had a… um… glass of wine or a shot of something? To relax me?”
“Ordinarily, I’d say absolutely. But tonight I think it’s imperative that you don’t go within a mile of any alcohol. I want you completely in control and not under the influence of anything except my devastating charm.”
She sucks her bottom lip and nods. “So, um… do we go to the bedroom?”
“No.” I lean on the back of the sofa, my head resting on my hand, and reach out the other hand to caress her cheek. “We’re going to do it here.”
Her eyes widen. “On the sofa?”
“Uh-huh.” I don’t want anything we do to remind her of her previous experience, and I presume that was in a bedroom, on her back on a bed. “You’re going to be on top.”
“Oh! Um… you want me to take off my clothes?”
“Not until you’re ready. First, we’re going to make out for a while.”
She chuckles. “Make out? I’m not fourteen anymore.”
“You don’t want to snog me?”
“Oh God, I totally do.”
We both laugh, and I cup her head and kiss her. She lifts her arms around my neck, and I wrap mine around her, and in seconds she opens her mouth to me, letting me slide my tongue against hers as we indulge in a long, sensual kiss.
I don’t know if I’d call myself a good lover—I’ve spent too long in the UK to be anything but unassuming about things like that—but I like to think I’m considerate, and I’ve always tried to put the girl first and make sure she has a good time before I even think about my own pleasure.
This is a whole new ball game, though. I’m going to need iron self-control, and I mustn’t get carried away—or at least not until right at the very end, if we get that far, and she gives me permission to climax.
Gently, carefully, I move her so she’s sitting on my lap, which I hope makes her feel comfortable and as if she’s in charge.
We kiss then, for a long time, while the last rays of the sun disappear beneath the horizon, the sky darkens, and stars begin to pop out. The apartment faces south, so soon we’ll be able to see the Southern Cross and the Milky Way splashed across the sky like spilled milk. Somehow it feels appropriate to make love under the southern stars. When I’m back in the UK, I might have to get a tattoo of the Crux constellation, somewhere near my wings.
Ahhh… I’m not going to think about leaving now, not when I finally have Elora in my arms, and her soft mouth on mine.
After a while, she moves back, pressing her lips together as her eyes meet mine.
“Okay, baby?” I ask, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“Yeah.” She cups my face in her hands, stroking her thumbs across my five o’clock shadow.
“Would you like me to have a quick shave?”
She shakes her head, seemingly fascinated by the stubble, brushing across my jaw, then continuing down my neck. I tip my head back, letting her explore, feeling her touch my Adam’s apple. She dips her head, then, to my surprise, I feel her brush her tongue into the hollow at the base of my throat.
Wow. It’s such an innocent gesture, but desire shoots through me at a million miles an hour, as if I’m one of those strongman games at the fair and she has hit my feet with a mallet.
She lifts her head, and her eyes are sultry. “Will you take your shirt off?” she murmurs.
I stretch my arms out along the back of the sofa. “You do it.”
Her lips curve up, and she begins to pop the buttons through the holes, starting at the top. “This is just your opportunity to be lazy.”
I grin, and she gives me a wry look, then drops her gaze to concentrate, the tip of her tongue peeping out the side of her mouth. She undoes the buttons all the way down, then carefully parts the sides of the shirt.
For a moment she just looks. I sit there, trying to bear her hot gaze without moving, even though it makes me itch, like I have spiders under my skin. Her gaze flicks up to mine, and she says, “Can I touch you?” I just nod, and she drops her gaze again and rests a finger lightly in the center of my chest, just under my heart.
Slowly, she begins to trace my tattoos. She looks closely at the one of Noah’s Ark, following the shape of the bears, then moves across to the Lewis Chess piece on the other side. She continues to explore, and in the end I close my eyes, finding her fascination and the movement of her fingers incredibly erotic.
After a while, she returns to the center of my chest, and I feel her drawing a figure on its side—an infinity symbol, or a lemniscate—between my pecs. I open my eyes to see her looking at my face. Her lips curve up, and then she continues to stroke across to my left nipple and circle the pad of her finger over it.
I lift an eyebrow, and she giggles.
“You have an amazing body,” she says. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”
Her compliment takes me aback. This girl continues to surprise me. “Well, thank you.”
She brushes her fingers along the cord that circles my neck, then picks up my St. Christopher. She studies the pattern of the saint carrying the child Jesus on his back over the water. “I hope he keeps you safe.”
“I don’t wear it for travel.”
She lifts her gaze to me. “I thought you said—”
“I don’t only wear it for travel.” I inhale, then breathe out slowly. “Atticus never pushed his faith onto the students or talked about his beliefs, not to me, anyway. But his strong moral code became a part of my life. You all taught me how to be respectful, kind, and generous, when I hadn’t encountered those values before. That’s why I wear it.”
Her eyes search mine. “It’s been such a strange day, hasn’t it?”
“It really has. It’s like… the world’s suddenly full of light. Don’s shadow hung over me like The Lord of the Rings’ Sauron in Barad-d?r.”
She gives a short laugh—she knows the movies as well as I do.
“Every time I made a decision,” I continue, “or did or said anything, in the back of my mind I felt him watching with an evil eye. I felt as if I was wearing the One Ring, and it was slowly corrupting me and turning me into his minion.”
“It’s such a shame, because you haven’t done anything even remotely evil.”
“I know. I just felt that inside my soul must be black. How could it be anything else with a father like that?” I pick up the St. Christopher. “I wore this as a kind of talisman against the One Ring that Don bequeathed me.”
“And now?”
“I feel as though the Ring has slid from my finger and landed on the floor like it does in the movie, with a heavy thud.”
“Do you feel like Bilbo did?”
“Yeah, ten years younger and a hundred pounds lighter without it.”
She smiles. “You look it. All your frown lines have disappeared.” She leans forward and kisses my forehead.
She kisses my temples, and down my cheekbones.
Then she kisses my mouth again.
This time, she slides her tongue against mine immediately, leaning against me, and I sigh and tilt my head to the side, accepting the kiss. I lower my arms to rest my hands on her waist, then stroke up her back. I don’t touch her breasts, not yet. But I stroke up to her shoulders, then back down again, enjoying touching her.
Eventually, she lifts her head again. Her pupils have dilated, and her eyes are large and dark.
Unprovoked, she lifts up and moves one leg across my hips, lowering down again so she’s straddling me. Then, after a deep breath, she takes the hem of her top in her hands, peels it up and over her head, and drops it onto the sofa.
She’s wearing a white bra, the lacy cups covering her perfect breasts, and I sigh. “Lora…”
Without saying anything, she moves her hands to her back, unclips the bra, pulls the straps down her arms, and drops that to the side, too.
She’s breathing fast, but she calmly takes my hands in hers, kisses them, then places them over her breasts before leaning forward to kiss me again.
I groan, cupping her breasts for a moment before sliding my arms around her and holding her tightly while we kiss. Her breasts against my chest are warm and soft, and as I skim my fingers up her ribs, she shivers and gives a sexy little moan against my lips.
“You have an erection,” she whispers.
“Yeah… sorry about that. It’s got a mind of its own.”
“It wasn’t a complaint.” She moves forward so she’s pressing against it and lowers her lips almost to mine. Then she murmurs, “I should ask… do you have any condoms?”
I nod. “A couple in my wallet.”
“Oh, of course.” She kisses me again.
My pulse speeds up as she rocks her hips against mine while I stroke down her body and up to her breasts again. This is really happening. Her movements are slow but deliberate—she wants this. I’m not talking her into it. She’s making the choice to move forward at each step, which is exactly what I wanted.
We kiss for a long time, exploring each other’s bodies, her hands traveling over my muscles, my shoulders, my throat, and into my hair, mine skimming up her back, around her ribs, and cupping her breasts. Her nipples are the palest pink, and I tease them first with the pads of my thumbs, until the tips have hardened and darkened a little, then gently tug them with my thumbs and forefingers.
When she tips back her head and arches her spine, I know I’m starting to get to her. Heart hammering, I kiss down her throat, unable to hold in a low growl of pleasure, and kiss down over her collarbone to her breasts before taking one of her nipples in my mouth and sucking. I’ve dreamed about this so many times, and the reality is even better, because a dream can’t portray the softness of her nipples, the smell of her perfume, or the sweet taste of her skin.
“Linc,” she whispers, “oh my God, you’re driving me mad.” She lifts my face and kisses me again, plunging her tongue into my mouth, while she rocks her hips against mine, arousing herself on me.
Ahhh… I hang onto my self-control with my fingertips. Steady, boy… let her get behind the wheel…
She lifts her head and moistens her lips. Then she says, “You still want to do it here?”
“It’s up to you, sweetheart. If you’d feel more comfortable in bed under the covers, we can go in.”
“No, I’m okay. Shall I take my skirt off?”
“If you’re ready.”
She gets up and slides her skirt down her legs, revealing a tiny pair of pretty white knickers. When she turns to drop her skirt onto the sofa, I get a great view of the white lace covering her tight, shapely bottom. She turns back and hesitates, then hooks her fingers in the elastic and slides it down her legs.
Now naked, her cheeks flushing, she sits astride me again, and I pull her close and wrap my arms around her. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I murmur.
“Linc,” she scolds, but she smiles. “Thank you.”
While we kiss, I stroke down her back and then along her long, slender thighs, enjoying the smoothness of her skin. When I get to the top, between her legs, I pause.
“Do you trust me, sweetheart?” I whisper.
She lifts her head, looks into my eyes, and nods. I slide my thumb over her soft skin, down into the heart of her, thrilled to find her swollen and moist.
“Ah, baby,” I say, collecting some of the moisture and returning my thumb to her clit. I circle it over the small button, and her eyes flutter closed. I’m relieved that she’s turned on, and that she’s not afraid to let me touch her.
She kisses me again, and I arouse her until her hips are moving to meet my touch. Her kisses are turning more passionate, hungry, and when I cup her breast with my other hand and tug her nipple, she lifts her head and stops moving, her ribcage rising and falling fast.
She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue. Then she turns and reaches for my wallet and passes it to me.
Wordlessly, I retrieve a condom from inside.
“You want me to strip?” I ask.
She tilts her head to the side. “No. You look hot in those chinos.”
Grinning, I undo the button and slide down the zipper. My erection leaps out, ready for action, straining against the black cotton of my boxer-briefs.
She inhales, eyes widening.
“Just think of yourself like a lion tamer,” I tell her as I tear off the wrapper, and she gives a short laugh.
I stop on the verge of pushing down the boxers and look up into her eyes. “You want to stop?”
She shakes her head.
“You sure, baby? Or would you like me inside you?”
Her lips part. “I want you inside me,” she whispers.
“Okay. We’ll go slow.” I push down the boxers and roll the condom on. Then I kiss her again, holding her tightly against me. I don’t want her to be scared, because then she’ll tense and make it harder. I don’t want her to think of what happened to her before at all. But the physical act is the same. The intrusion, the invasion. Sex doesn’t have to involve penetration, but she wants to create new memories to wipe away the old, and so I need to go through with it. How can I make sure she enjoys this?