Chapter 15
Helena walked slowly toward Austin, each step purposeful, her gaze held by his. She felt sexy and wanted and in control. There were no words. There’d be no conversation.
She came right to him, stopping inches away. Their bodies faced one another’s.
He had a pleasant face. Clean hands. Good trainers.
It was enough.
She pursed her lips. Made a small movement of her head. A suggestion.
He nodded.
She knew this dance. Maybe she’d known it was happening when she accepted the bottle of wine. It was a routine she’d moved to many times before.
Austin ran a hand through his white-blond hair. There was an energy—a brittle, fizzing confidence about him—and she wondered if he was high.
He grabbed her hand. His was warm, slightly clammy. He pulled her lightly after him. A room. A cubicle. A store cupboard. An empty corridor. It didn’t matter.
He shouldered open a door to a disabled toilet.
Helena shut it behind them. Locked it. The light was garish and harsh, illuminating a greasy shine across the bridge of Austin’s nose. His pores were large and open and there was a faint spray of acne scars pitted at the edge of his hairline.
He looked at her hungrily and with a touch of self-congratulation—like he couldn’t quite believe his luck. This wasn’t a city club. This was a lodge in the foothills of mountains. She hooked her finger into his waistband. Pulled him close. Kissed him.
Cider and meat. Something sour. She pressed herself to him, felt the hardness of his cock through his jeans. She didn’t even want this. It was how some people felt when faced with the last strip of chocolate. They didn’t want to eat it but knew they would, so needed it over with. Done.
She needed this done.
She shimmied her black trousers and knickers to her knees, and he lifted her onto the edge of the wet sink. Then he was inside her. Too fast.
She tried to rock herself into a rhythm she’d enjoy.
A balled-up tissue on the toilet floor fell in her eye line.
She looked away. Caught sight of herself in a mirror nailed to the back of the door.
She didn’t look like a woman in control.
Her lipstick had rubbed off and she looked sad and empty and hard faced and lonely.
She screwed her eyes shut.
Austin grabbed her breasts, squeezed. She tried not to yelp. They were tender. They shouldn’t have been tender. She pushed herself into him more firmly, rocking fast, speeding this up.
He came with a shudder.
Then she slipped down from the sink, pulling up her knickers, buttoning her trousers.
He looked at her wide-eyed. “Wow. That was . . .”
His cock was still out and the sight of it embarrassed her.
She moved to the door.
“Wait! You are leaving? Already?” Austin looked suddenly boyish, vulnerable.
“Yes.”
“Can I . . . see you again?”
“I’m off hiking in the morning,” she said, hand on the door.
“When you are back at the lodge?” he called.
She stepped through the doorway into the low-lit atrium. “Sure,” she tossed, needing to get away.
“See you again!” he called, and she felt guilty for the catch of happiness in his voice.
As her boots clipped along the wooden floor, she was startled to pass Vilhelm and his dog, who’d returned to their silent watch on the bench. His cap was drawn low, and she couldn’t see his eyes, yet felt them following her as she passed, her skin prickling with shame.