Chapter Thirty-Nine
CHAPTER
39
Kit holds my hand too firmly as we retrace our steps, but I welcome the pressure. I welcome the certainty of his long and determined gait. He collects our shoes mid-stride.
‘Where is your car?’
‘Out the front.’
‘Do you need anything?’
Lip gloss? A dress for dinner? Pyjamas? How would I know? ‘I don’t think so.’
The villas, picture-postcard perfect Hamptons style with verandahs facing the ocean, line up like blocks of Lego. We walk to the villa at the end of the row.
‘Did Astrid arrange this?’
‘She booked a hotel room. I paid for an upgrade.’
‘You must miss the ocean.’
‘Why?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
I walk up the steps and stand back as he opens the door. A modern kitchen with a granite bench, a living room with a long grey sofa and a hallway with three doors. Neutral palate, sleek and modern. French doors face the ocean, a sparkling expanse beneath a faded blue sky.
‘It’s lovely.’
‘I can order room service.’
‘No, thank you.’
‘When did you last eat?’
‘Have you called your mother?’
He frowns. ‘What?’
‘At the cabin …’ I take a breath, clear my throat. ‘She was worried about you.’
‘I’m thirty-two.’
‘I’m twenty-seven and Grandpa is seventy-five and …’ My words peter out. ‘Your family cares about you.’
‘Twenty-seven.’ After shutting the door, he draws a sheer curtain across the view and flicks on lights. He looks at me, turns away, rubs around the back of his neck for at least the tenth time in the past sixty minutes. He looks at me again. ‘Fuck.’
‘Does your eye hurt?’ I search his face. ‘Can I get you something?’
‘We slept together in the cabin.’ As if that thought makes him feel better, he takes my chin between two fingers and kisses my nose. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘Can I stay tonight?’
He talks against my neck. ‘What would Gordon think?’
‘Grandpa said the sea air would do me good.’
His response is midway between a groan and a growl. Then, ‘I want you, Mackenzie. Today. Tomorrow. Next week.’
I’m about to tell him he’s meeting the vice-chancellor tomorrow and we both have commitments next week when he interrupts my thoughts.
‘Agreed?’
I wind my arms around his neck. ‘Can we stop talking, please?’
When he narrows his eyes, I stand on my toes and kiss his mouth. Slow and sweet, delicate, tantalising. I cling onto his shoulders. I touch the skin at his neck and find the kink of his hair where it slips inside his collar. When I tug, he unfastens buttons. My hands are impatient and clumsy as I yank his shirt from his pants. I stroke his abdomen and chest, the smooth tanned skin at his throat.
‘Kit?’ His name is a plea. ‘Do you have a bed? You must.’
His erection is long and hard against my stomach. He groans a laugh as he buries his face in my neck. ‘I have two.’ He kisses a trail from the corner of my mouth to my ear. ‘You should stay in the second room.’
‘As you’ve already pointed out, we stayed together in the cabin. I want to stay with you like that.’ His nipples are flat and brown. When I kiss one then the other, he sucks in a breath. I whisper words. ‘In a proper bed.’
He cups my face. His mouth, firm, deliberate, seeking and searching, is warm. When he slips his tongue between my lips, my knees wobble, my heart thumps.
‘Kit?’
‘Not sex,’ he says roughly. ‘Not yet.’
‘Because of your eye?’
His hands sweep up my body to my breasts. ‘No.’ His groan is low and raspy.
‘Then why?’
His gaze on my breasts, he takes the hem of my jumper and pulls it over my head. My shirt is white cotton with tiny little buttons. He unfastens the top button and the next. He dips his head, trails hot damp kisses down my cleavage. When he nudges aside my bra and almost touches my nipple, I gasp. I rake my nails across his shoulders.
‘Please, Kit.’ I bite his shoulder. ‘Please can we go to bed?’
He opens the rest of my buttons, pulls the shirt off my shoulders to my elbows. And, my arms trapped by my sides, he kisses a path between my breasts as he unfastens the clasp of my bra. He pushes one of his legs between mine and kisses and sucks and tempts until he’s bearing all my weight and I’m a quivering wreck.
He mutters against my mouth. ‘You haven’t had sex before.’
Grasping his hair again, I force his head up. ‘You said you wanted me.’
He cups my breasts, kisses them gently, gets down on his knees and trails a warm damp path to my navel. Hands on my hips, he unfastens the button of my jeans, unzips the fly, turns the waistband down to my hips and—
‘Kit!’ I clench his shoulders. ‘You’re distracting me, aren’t you?’
He rests his forehead on my stomach. ‘Can I kiss you here?’ When he runs his hands up the outsides of my thighs, hot throbbing heat flashes through my veins. I press my legs together, but that makes things worse.
I gather my thoughts. ‘Am I not good enough? Experienced enough?’
With a series of curses, he gets to his feet. He takes a deep breath, mutters crankily on my mouth. ‘You’re too good.’
‘Because I’m a—’
‘Please don’t say it.’
‘I haven’t had sex. Is that what this is about?’
Even though his erection throbs against my thigh and his skin is heated and his heart is thumping just as hard as mine, his gaze softens a notch.
‘This is about you and me. I know how I feel.’
‘You want to have sex with me. I want that too.’
He hesitates. ‘What happens afterwards?’
‘Literally?’
‘Mackenzie …’ A warning.
‘I don’t want what my parents had.’ The words rush out. ‘I want more. A lot more.’
‘I want what my parents have.’
I stand on my toes and kiss his mouth. ‘Tonight, tomorrow and next week.’
‘Fuck.’ His hand is unsteady when he pushes back my hair. ‘Fuck.’
‘Remember how I handled Athena? I hadn’t done that before.’
‘I’m not a horse.’
‘But this must be safer, right?’
‘It’s not safe.’ He kisses me firmly. ‘And don’t talk about horses.’
‘I signed up for the documentary. And I agreed to go hiking with you even though I didn’t like you. I know what I’m doing.’
‘Taking risks?’ He laughs a groan against my neck. ‘This talk isn’t helping.’
‘When we were in the cabin, you said you hadn’t gone to sleep with anyone. So that makes this different for you too, doesn’t it? You’ll be with me all night. It’s a risk for both of us.’
He searches my face. Frowns his fiercest frown. ‘You’ll stay with me?’
I wrap my arms around his neck. I kiss his serious mouth. ‘I’ll keep you safe.’
***
He supported me when I staggered to the ambulance. He carried the weight of two packs. He climbs vertical rock faces and snow-capped mountains and icy glaciers so it’s not too surprising he can scoop me up and carry me down the hall to a bedroom with a giant king-sized bed. I loop my arms around his neck and kiss his throat.
‘I can walk.’
He tips forward and deposits me on the sheets. ‘And run.’
The curtains lift in the breeze as he opens the window. Waves crash on the beach; seagulls call out. He crouches in front of me.
‘Do you have any questions?’
I look over his shoulder. ‘Did you lock the front door?’
‘Yes.’ He smiles as he pushes back my hair. ‘What else?’
‘Is this a test?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Do you want me to ask questions about sex? STDs?’
‘Ask if I have checks.’
‘Chloe wouldn’t put up with an STD, even from you.’
He whispers a kiss on my mouth. ‘I don’t care about Chloe.’
‘Or the scar on your eyebrow or the scratches on your cornea.’
He frowns. ‘What other questions do you have?’
‘You’re still not satisfied?’ I put my hand on the side of his handsome face. ‘Are you priming me for sex with other people?’
‘Mackenzie …’
‘As careful and noble as you are, I presume you’re talking about contraception. Do you have a condom?’
He tugs at the legs of my jeans. ‘Yes.’
‘Did I pass your test?’
He closes his eyes for a moment. ‘Du er umulig.’
Kit is not only careful and noble, he’s measured and cautious. He wants to be in control, and he hides his emotions. But it’s clear he’s struggling with all of those things as he strips off his shirt, unbuttons his jeans and …
‘Oh!’ I can’t pull the word back. Even worse, I can’t take my eyes from his—
He sits on the bed, takes my hands, lifts them, talks against the scar on my thumb. ‘I’ll go slowly.’
‘Isn’t there a word?’ When my voice wobbles, I clear my throat. ‘A safety word?’
He holds in a smile. ‘That’s for bondage.’
‘Oh.’
‘You only need one word.’ He tips up my chin. ‘No.’
I take a deep breath, bend my knees and tighten my grip on his hands. ‘You won’t hurt me.’
Frowning in concentration, he peels off my shirt. ‘I hope not,’ he says quietly.
After kissing my mouth and exploring my body until I’m hot and needy and squirming, he trails kisses from my lips to my neck to my breasts and all the way down to the tips of my toes. He kisses up the outsides of my legs. He kisses my breasts again and then he kisses lower. He eases apart my legs and, eyes heated, he looks up.
‘Can I kiss you here?’
I nod.
‘Say it.’ His voice is gruff.
‘Yes.’
On the day we met, I was afraid and in pain and in shock. I thought he was attractive. More than attractive. But he was arrogant and opinionated and …
He’s still all of those things, but other things too. He’s sensitive and decent and—
‘Ahhh.’
He lifts his head. ‘Yes?’
‘Yes.’
He kisses and circles and tempts and nudges and taunts and plays until I’m hot and sweaty and frantic. He looks up, smiles, then kisses me again and I climax, long wet waves like the ocean as it crashes on the beach. Afterwards he plays gently, featherlight touches until the warmth builds again and my toes curl up.
‘Kit?’ When I put my hands on his arms and pull him up the bed, he rolls onto his side. He leans over me, pushes hair from my face. ‘I’m ready.’
‘Are you certain?’
I circle his neck with my arms and hold tightly. ‘Yes.’
His smile is strained as he rests his hand on my hip. His erection nudges my stomach. I swallow, take a breath, stroke gently.
‘Oh …’
‘What?’ The word is a groan.
‘It’s hard yet …’
He puts his hand over mine. ‘Please don’t do that.’
‘Does it hurt?’
He groans a laugh. ‘No.’
‘I let you touch me.’
‘I’ve waited a long time.’ He closes his eyes. ‘I don’t want to go too fast.’
I wriggle close, angle my leg over his hip. ‘Is this all right?’
He nudges against me, nudges again. He looks into my eyes and assesses my responses to every tiny move that he makes. I try not to clench but it burns.
‘Sweetheart.’ He kisses me gently, talks against my mouth. ‘I’m sorry.’
I chance a look down; he’s barely inside me. ‘You could try on top.’
He changes position, comes up on his elbows. He smooths my hair over the pillow. ‘You’re beautiful. So beautiful.’
‘Do you think that when you’re angry with me?’
‘I’m never angry with you.’
‘You say I’m impossible.’
‘I don’t know what you want. I get lost.’
I adjust my position, push a little closer. I touch his mouth. ‘I like this.’
‘Det tilh?rer deg.’
‘What does that mean?’
He hesitates. ‘It’s how I feel.’
I push back his Viking hair, draw a line from his forehead, over his nose and down to the scar on his chin.
‘How did you get this?’
‘Football.’
‘You’re very handsome. Everybody knows that.’
‘I don’t care about everybody.’
I wriggle again, wrap my leg around the small of his back. ‘Is this okay for you?’
His face is pained. ‘Fuck, Mackenzie …’
‘Do you mean yes?’ I wriggle some more; he slips further inside. ‘I’m okay too.’
The muscles in his arms are corded. His jaw is clenched. ‘I can stop if you want me to.’
I link my heels, kiss his mouth, find his tongue. ‘I don’t want you to stop.’
He moves painstakingly slowly, but as the pressure builds he finds a rhythm. Long strokes, shared breaths, shaky exhalations. I like him like this, restrained and careful yet frantic and desperate. A mess of contradictions. Finally, when his body is slick with sweat and the harshness of his breathing drowns out the ocean, he reaches for what he’s been searching for. He shouts out loud then smothers the sound.
Later, his head on my breasts, he sleeps quietly in my arms. I stroke along his shoulders, kiss his salty skin, hold him safely inside my body.