Chapter Twenty-Eight
I went to the window, arms folded across my chest, watching him as he walked to the wardrobe and grabbed a towelling robe. ‘If you need to get changed,’ he said, handing it to me.
‘I’m fine,’ I said. I’d stopped crying and I felt a mixture of relief and shyness. I stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, not sure what to do. ‘It’s mainly my feet.’
He got a jumper out of the drawer – so neatly folded, I remembered his army background.
He rolled it up and put it over my head; the sleeves came way past my hands.
But it was soft, and warm, and it smelt deliciously of him.
‘I’m getting changed,’ he said. ‘I got splashed by those women, the ones re-enacting Singin’ in the Rain in front of San Marco.
Do you want a cuppa? There’s water in the kettle. ’
I shook my head, watching him as he extracted more perfectly neat clothes and went into the bathroom. I inspected the refreshments tray, trying to alleviate the buzzing tension I felt. ‘Ooh, fancy biscuits. But shortbread? Not very Venetian?’
‘What’s that?’
He stepped back into the room, completely shirtless, and my mouth dropped open.
His torso was smooth, taut and so immaculately muscled, so perfectly symmetrical that an art student would have grabbed their sketchpad and charcoal there and then.
Its smoothness was interrupted by a faint scar on his lower chest which somehow made him even more perfect.
I considered the ethics of taking a picture so that I could look at it in my loneliest times.
I took in the double arrow tattooed on his right arm, all the while thinking wow, those gym trips really are working.
In short, I stared at him for about fifteen seconds too long.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t realise you were…
’ So fucking fit. A work of art. Possibly a Greek god. ‘Tattooed.’
He gave me a hooded look. ‘Like you, I don’t give up my secrets all at once.’
I swallowed, wondering, if we ever got naked (because getting naked, I now realised, was definitely on my agenda), whether my fanciest underwear would make up for the fact that I wasn’t honed like an athlete. I started to edge towards the door. ‘I should probably go.’
‘What’s up, Lizzy?’ he said. ‘Hang on, are you – you’re not scared? Of me?’
‘No,’ I said, thinking, oh yes, I am. ‘Not of you.’ Of us, of this. ‘This is just – getting complicated.’
He walked over to me, gently took me by the arms, and kissed me, lightly, on the lips. ‘Is that okay?’
It was more than okay. It was lovely. Delicious, like champagne; comforting, like honey in tea. I could feel myself melting. I gazed at him, hazy-eyed.
‘Come on, sit down.’
I perched on the edge of the bed, hearing him pad across the floor.
When he returned, he sat behind me, and gently wrapped a blanket around me.
I felt some of the tension in my shoulders unlock; I leaned back, against him, felt his sigh as he leant his head against mine, dropping a kiss on my shoulder.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘I’m so sorry I upset you earlier.’
‘It’s okay.’ I glanced over my shoulder, hazarded a look at him.
‘This job’s been going south for a while.
’ I turned to face him. He didn’t need to pull me towards him.
I put my arms around him, my hands flat against his muscular back, revelling in at last being able to touch him.
Then he dipped his head and gave me one of those kisses that made me entirely forget where I was, who I was, even.
And it was so unfair. After all, I had started it.
The kissing. And now it was completely outside my control.
He was intoxicating. So, so intoxicating.
And he was looking into my eyes as though he adored me.
But I still felt as though I didn’t know what was happening inside, not really: Olly existed for me in fragments, his cool expression, the way he stood, perfectly upright, hands in pockets, defences in place.
Invulnerable, charming. All things to all people.
But this was also the man who had waded through canal water to get to me, who had whispered apologies into my hair and kissed me as though we were in a black-and-white film.
And now, my brain and my body converged in agreement.
Stop fighting this.
I leaned into his kiss and deepened it, my whole body against his. His hands at my waist, I felt his thumbs move over my hip bones and I almost broke in two out of sheer desire.
How did hip bones get to be erogenous?
We kissed, and kissed, and kissed some more; and I suddenly felt no nerves, no nerves at all that his hands were all over me.
Carried along on a tide of desire, I no longer felt that I had to hide anything, that it was anything but natural when his fingers played over the front of my underwear, landing on that place.
That tiny touch sent a bolt of sensation so electric through me that I jolted back.
‘Interesting,’ he said, breaking from me, our faces close. ‘I mean, I knew you were sensitive, but—’
‘Say another smart remark and I’ll slap you,’ I said, trying to catch my breath.
‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep.’
He moved his fingers again, this time more searchingly, and my breath hitched, my voice murmuring his name.
‘More?’ he said. ‘Do you want to…’
‘I think,’ I said, ‘I think, I do.’
He looked me in the eyes, saw something that troubled him. ‘I’m going to need a definite yes. I don’t want this to be something you regret, and we don’t have to do anything now. We can take it slow.’
Olly being restrained was more of a turn on than I could have imagined.
I shook my head. I did not want to take it slow.
I knew if I took it slow, my logical brain would kick in again.
And right now, sensible Lizzy could exit stage left, thank you very much.
This man made me feel safe and warm through to my bones.
But he also made me feel desire, and the tension that had been between us for the last few weeks was pushing me on, a hard-edged, hungry certainty of what I wanted. ‘Yes,’ I managed to say.
His eyes darkened. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’ His hands were on my waist and this single touch alone was driving me insane.
‘Yes, Olly. I’m sure. For God’s sake! Please.’
He laughed and we kissed again, pulling off the last of our clothes, until we were both entwined feverishly on the bed.
His gaze snagged on mine. ‘Pretty please,’ I said, smiling. A real smile.
‘You are unbelievably beautiful,’ he said.
He kissed deeper, closer, our hands searching, finding. It might have been minutes or hours before I heard the rip of the foil as he opened the condom; I was suspended in bliss and warmth.
I felt the smooth, assertive push of him, my own voice echoing his as he entered me in one seamless, exquisite movement.
I felt my body flicker into the beginnings of ecstasy, a tide of pleasure rising in me ridiculously quickly.
It had only been moments and I was already on the edge, trying to hold it back, and failing. I said his name, gasping with it.
‘Keep saying my name,’ he said.
I banished questions from my thoughts. I banished thoughts from my mind.
Let him take control. He sensed my desire to yield; the way we touched each other was like a conversation in itself.
To not be in control, to not be responsible, was blissful.
Physical shivers, in response to his every touch, his every movement.
He slowed the process, exercising the kind of restraint I felt incapable off, until I could not stave it off anymore.
I was a mess. Nothing coherent came out of my mouth, apart from a moan of protest when he changed the angle. His smile as I dragged my nails down his back almost undid me.
‘I can feel you,’ he said, his body rocking in that beautiful, endless, movement. Weak with desire, pretty much just holding on to my sanity, his superior strength did not bother me. Maybe it never had. ‘I can feel you.’
‘Please,’ I begged him. ‘Don’t stop.’ And then I was lost.
I was aware of Olly crying out, burying himself deep in me in one last thrust as I came, my body ecstatically tightening and releasing in a lengthy cascade of pleasure.
I cried out, hardly knowing whether to laugh or cry, and settling on both.
I couldn’t remember ever feeling like that before.
A pleasure so deep. That sense of complete, totally spent, satisfaction.
I lay back on the bed, swiping a hand across my face to brush away a tear.
‘Did you just lose your mind, Brinks?’ Olly said, against my skin.
‘Cheeky,’ I managed, breathlessly. ‘What about you?’
He looked deeply into my eyes. ‘I lost my mind about six weeks ago, Lizzy. I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.’
My stomach flipped with joy and lust. ‘Six weeks ago, as in…’
He nodded. ‘That. Fucking. Kiss. You’ve got no idea how many sleepless nights that gave me. In good ways and bad.’ I laughed, swiped at him, and he caught my hand and kissed it.
‘You okay, though?’ His voice was soft, his eyes questioning.
I stretched, laughed. ‘Okay is nowhere near how good I feel.’
‘Good.’ He wrapped his arms around me, and I clung to him unashamedly, burying my head in his neck. ‘Good.’