38. “Stop Me From Falling” - Kylie Minogue #2
“A long time,” he murmurs against my skin.
The wind picks up and swirls fallen leaves and twigs around the small garden. The sparkly sunlight winks out, and a gray pallor takes its place.
“Come on. We’ve got one more place to see,” he says.
I’ve heard of backyard cinemas but have never been to one. When Henry ushers me through the first garden tunnel, it’s like stepping into another realm, one where everything is possible, even the crazy, explosive love ricocheting in my heart.
Evergreen boughs brush our heads as we walk, the scent of pine so heady it makes me dizzy. Or maybe that’s because Henry pulls me into a small alcove and kisses me like the world is ending, his hands cupping my face both gently and firmly.
“No matter what happens, we’ll have this day, okay?” he says.
Fear niggles in my chest at his words. “What do you mean? What’s going to happen?”
“Nothing.” He pulls me to him and cradles the back of my head in his palm. “Let’s go watch the show.”
Without the protection of our sunglasses, we’re much more likely to be recognized here.
Fortunately, everyone is too entranced by the magical fairy-tale setting to even consider the possibility of the Crown Prince and Princess of Wesbourne sitting in the back row.
Although we don’t see much of the movie, ensconced in our comfy bean bag chairs and engrossed in each other as we are.
It seems a waste to be here. I miss having his body pressed against mine.
By the time the show is over, I only want one thing. Henry, on the other hand, has other appetites as well.
“God, I want nothing more than to take you back and devour you,” he growls in my ear. “But I will shrivel up before we get there if I don’t get something to eat.”
“Your perpetual hunger is a real buzzkill,” I tease as we leave the cinema to find the nearest restaurant.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and presses his lips to my hair. “I’ll make up for it later, baby, don’t worry.”
A sharp, sickly sweet spike of pleasure shoots through me. I’m fully aware of how well he can carry out this promise.
The darkened street greets us as we step outside, the sun having gone to bed while we lounged in fairyland. I have the sudden realization that our day is drawing to a close. I can’t shake my sense of foreboding, the feeling that this is simply the calm before the storm.
We find seats at a small pub that is buzzing with tipsy patrons, clanking pints, and the live band on the stage.
Our booth is in a back corner, partially cloaked in shadows, but we still keep our heads down.
We’ve escaped recognition all day, and being caught now would certainly put a damper on things.
While we wait for our food, Henry clasps my hands across the sticky table. “Did you have fun today?” His thumbs trace rings on the backs of my hands and make concentration difficult.
“London isn’t Wesbourne. But it may have been the best day of my life,” I say. “Thank you.”
“It was amazing, wasn’t it?” His grin is contagious.
“Is this how you woo all of your dates?”
“There’s only one girl in the world I’d ever do this for.” He gazes at me. “She’s sitting right in front of me.”
That is all it takes. My heart has no choice but to explode into a million tiny pieces. I lean forward and press my lips against his. The amount of PDA I’ve participated in today is shocking. Even more shocking is my utter lack of remorse. This is what Henry does to me.
It turns out great loves don’t always end in tragedy. My own life is now a testament to that fact, and for once I’m more than happy to have been wrong.
There’s a sudden commotion beside us, and we both pull back in surprise. Henry comes to his senses faster than I do. He drags me from the table. “Let’s go.”
The paparazzi follow us out the door, but we lose them when we slide into an empty cab. “Bloody vultures,” he says. “Someone must have tipped them off. We should’ve headed back after the movie.” Rage emanates from him and swirls around the back seat of the car.
I struggle to find a reason for his anger. “Are you mad that we didn’t get to eat first? We can go somewhere else.”
“No, let’s just go back to the hotel.” He threads his fingers through mine and raises our joined hands to his lips. They curve into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Something is wrong, but he isn’t going to tell me what it is.
Back in his suite, I kick off my shoes and wiggle my toes against the plush carpet. “Do you want to order room service? The menu’s right here.” I wave it in the air.
He takes it from my hand and tosses it aside, then slides his fingers around my jaw and through my hair, tugging me closer. “I’m not hungry anymore. At least not for food.”
He slowly peels off both of our clothes and leaves them in a heap on the floor. His movements are calculated and slow, a painstaking seduction. I can’t read his face. His eyes are dark and shadowed, and his actions the result of deliberate thought.
We are smoke and mirrors, light and dark. Tonight is different from before. Gone is the smiling, playful Henry, and in his place is a man who almost frightens me with his intensity.
Alternating between slow and fast, hard and soft, he brings me to the brink of ecstasy again and again, until I can’t take it anymore. We climax together, oblivious to the world outside our own.
“I’m going to brush my teeth,” he says when it’s over, standing up brusquely and walking to the bathroom.
A chill climbs my spine as I watch him leave. I pull the duvet up to my chin.
For reasons I can’t explain, I wait until he returns before brushing my own teeth, and when I get back, I can’t tell if he’s still awake or not. He has his back turned to me, and the lamp on his side of the bed is already off.
The intense way he made love to me scares me the most. It was like he wanted to savor every moment. Which doesn’t make sense, unless . . .
I won’t go there.
He won’t leave me, not after all of this. He feels the same way I do. He cares too much to lead me on.
I’m being ridiculous.
I crawl into bed and flip off the light and the nagging voice in my head. I curb the desire to touch him and fold my hands under my pillow so they won’t get any ideas of their own. It’s obvious we won’t be snuggling tonight.
We need to have a conversation tomorrow about what’s going to happen next. We have a country and responsibilities waiting for us back home. It’s time to act like adults.
I sigh and roll over, my back to Henry. It’s much easier to sleep on my right side, especially if he isn’t even going to look at me. After a few minutes, the bed squeaks as he shifts. Soon, his arms slip around my waist and burrow me into the magical sanctuary of his chest.
“Sweet dreams, baby,” he whispers.
It isn’t until I’m sinking into sleep that I finally identify the black cloud hanging over our otherwise perfect day. I told Henry exactly how I feel about him, how madly in love with him I am, and how I can’t imagine a life without him.
But he has yet to tell me anything.