Chapter Fifteen
James groans into my mouth as the kiss gets hotter and harder and just as wanton as it was back in the castle. It’s totally inappropriate for me to want to do this with this man. I scold myself royally whilst carrying on regardless. I’m thankful we both cleaned our teeth before eating our protein bars – his breath is still freshly minted as I take hold of his bottom lip with my teeth again, like before, tugging until he’s cursing with pleasure.
Whilst one hand plays in his hair, my other roams lower, feeling across his chest and the tangle of hairs there. James takes this as a cue to do the same thing, sweeping his long fingers down along my back, tracing my spine, until he’s cupping my bum and sliding his warm palm under my knickers. He leaves it there. A dare. A challenge.
He’s asking – are we really doing this?
And my answer, as I gasp into his mouth, is clearly, yes . Whatever yes means. It feels as if I have a raging fire whipping up through my core that needs to be soothed. There’s a level of panic which tells me it’s impossible. I can’t be soothed. Not here. Not in this tent getting drenched on the outside. The wind is stroking the skin on our faces as it streams through the material, not strong enough to keep it out completely.
And in addition to the setting, there’s a pressure, a disappointment, lingering before we’ve even begun because it’s been so long since a man has really given me his time.
James is attentive now, slowing his kisses and venturing down my neck, touching points where my pulse meets my skin, lingering there until I’m squirming. He takes a pinch with his teeth, making me jump. I play his game, using my nails to scrape up his back. He arches and I know I’ve got him.
“God, Felicity , what’re we going to do?” he whispers into my neck as he spreads more kisses there, nibbling over my collarbone. “What do you want me to do?”
“Anything,” I say but there’s an undertone of panic in my voice I can’t even hide. Do I even know what I’m doing? It’s genuinely been that long. I’ve been too busy, too stressed. But maybe this is what I’ve needed all along.
What if I do something wrong?
He must hear my hesitation because he freezes for a few seconds, as if he’s considering his next move, then lifts his head to look at me. “What is it? You not into this now?” he asks gently, removing his hands from my body.
It’s the worst thing he’s ever done to me.
I shake my head violently. “No! God, no. I mean, yes . I’m into this. It’s just…”
James’ eyes bore down on me with concern, realisation slowly flitting over his face. He pushes his hair back from his forehead and that act alone makes me melt further into the ground. God damn him and his sexy, floppy hair . “Oh. Right. What you told me yesterday about scaring men away for two years?”
I scrunch my face. “I don’t think that’s what I said.”
“It was implied.”
“Was it?”
James quirks his lips. “I refuse to believe it’s because there was a lack of interest. Look at you, Fliss. And besides, are we really arguing right now?”
More compliments from James. Or at least I think they are. Maybe he’s right about the scaring part though. Between work stress and life stress, I’ve been frightening men away this whole time. Maybe what I need right now is someone who is definitely not afraid of me to step straight through that invisible armour I’ve made for myself.
I take a deep breath as James kisses me again. This time slowly, deliberately, tugging at my bottom lip in the way I do but with more care. He cups my cheek and neck delicately as if he’s cradling glass.
Slowly but surely, the fire that ebbed, as I started to worry, builds again.
Extracting my hand from his chest, he slides his fingers with mine, leaning up enough to kiss my knuckles, sending shots of fire straight to my core. The core that’s now pulsing as if it’s got its own heartbeat. I never knew knuckles could be sensitive like this. When he pops one of my fingers in his mouth, I feel it in my brain and my toes. Since when was this a thing? He takes another, his tongue rolling across them.
After releasing my hand, he carefully, slowly drops his hand lower. I close my eyes because, yes, I’m up for this, but, no, I can’t have him looking at me with those intense eyes, because holy shit, Gloatman is about to be touching me. Touching me , touching me. And I’m totally up for it.
When he’s almost there, he changes direction. It’s brutal. Completely the sort of underhanded thing he would do. I whimper as he reaches down as far as he can on my left leg, circling the area he knows I want soothed but never actually giving me what I want. Whenever I think he’s getting close, he moves away again. He strokes my belly button which makes me hop from my pelvis. His hand skirts the side of my waist, and back down before finally curving over the spot I need him to be touching so, so bad.
Then he snatches it away again. I gasp.
“You’re teasing me,” I moan as James laughs in this devilishly dark way that makes my ears tingle. He leans in close, his tongue and lips and teeth playing with sensitive spots behind my ears and down my neck until I’m squirming again. He finds my hand, purposefully holding it still over my stomach as he does so.
Then, because I’m desperate for something and really don’t know what else to do, I twist my face in search of him. His lips find mine, colliding in passion. I find myself rocking my wanton hips into his body, trying with all my strength to move our hands lower.
“You want this now?” he whispers.
“Please.”
He releases the lock on his elbow and moves our hands lower until he’s tracing my clit with his fingers, under the thin material of my knickers. Then, as I begin to hum, closing my eyes tight again, he places my hand there, his pressed over the top of mine. “Show me,” he says.
At first, I’m not sure he’s serious. I wait for him to take control again but he’s busy now, kissing my neck, playing with the spots of pleasure I didn’t even know existed. Steadily, I begin to circle myself in the way I usually do. The pressure builds gradually, James’ fingers are quick to follow the movement. He groans as if me going along with his suggestion is as good as having outright sex.
I moan out loud too, totally uncontrolled, as a wave of pleasure rolls over me.
But we’re not there yet. James is nibbling along my collarbone. His breathing is choppy, as if he too is experiencing my building eruption.
Slowly, his hand moves over mine. He lifts it again, taking it away from where I want it. He kisses my knuckles before placing it back on my chest. “I’ll take it from here,” he says. “You can trust me.”
And, oh god, I really shouldn’t trust Gloatman but here we are. I let him take over, his fingers roaming lower until he’s in the same spot, moving gently over it in exactly the same way I did. But, oh.
He’s so, so, so much better than me. Or is it just because it’s not me? His fingers are warm as they move anti-clockwise. Occasionally, he dips lower, using my own moisture as natural lube. It’s so bloody intimate. It’s so wrong that it’s James. But it feels so very right.
I bite my lip to prevent too many sounds from exiting my lips; my breathing is slower now and yet, louder, as if I’m running a race. “That’s it,” he says into my ear, sending shivers racking through me.
It’s getting closer.
The pressure is rising now. It’s building like there’s a pool or a dam holding back a tidal wave.
I moan again.
He nibbles on my earlobe.
He’s circling a little quicker now, waiting patiently for me to come undone. But I need something more. I need him to get meaner.
“More,” I say.
“More what?” he asks. No panic in his voice. No offence taken that I’m asking for something. “I need you to tell me.”
“Be meaner with it.”
Be meaner with it?!
“Gladly,” he says in that devilishly dark tone again, picking up the pace so suddenly and so abruptly I find myself thrusting into his hand. It all starts coming undone.
It’s too much. The pressure and the intimacy and the whole damn bloody moment. I twist to escape. But James is prepared for this reaction. Before I know what’s happened, he’s got a strong thigh between mine. The hairs scratch on my skin exquisitely. He pins me, keeping pace the whole time. Not letting me escape. Not letting me roll away. He’s entered this game with only one possible outcome.
And, oh!
The feeling washes through me exactly like an eruption. Boiling hot lava invading my veins. My body goes lax as the wild endorphins roll through me. I suck in a long breath as James slows his fingers, moving them further down to find a slick wetness between my legs. I can’t help myself at this point. I roll onto my side as James’ hand skirts up to my waist, holding onto me. I try to push my hand towards his boxers, but he stops me.
“No, it’s ok,” he says.
“But I want to.”
James laughs now. I feel the sting of it in my chest.
“You don’t want me to?” I ask, suddenly ridiculously self-conscious.
“God, it’s not that ,” he says. “It’s just we’re in a tent in Scotland and all we’ve got are the condoms in the bag which Michael provided for us.”
“Oh hell! Why would you remind me of that? ” I say, a breathy laugh finding its way out of my mouth when I realise he’s got a point.
“I tried not to…”
“Well, I can…”
“Fliss… I’m telling you it’s fine. I’m too… It’s too… If I let you down there, and you want more, I’m not going to be able to stop, which means using the condoms.”
I cover my face with my hands, rolling onto my back again. I’m being typical Fliss. Overkeen to get a task done. Always feeling the need to return the favour. I mean, I want to. I could feel it against me the whole time, the gorgeous solidness of it through his boxers. I just sort of want to make him as vulnerable as he made me. But he’s got a point. If we get too giddy now, surely that’s just going to escalate until we’re properly fucking, and then we have to use a condom that was supplied to us by our boss. What does that make us? Seriously. What does that make us? No, we can’t do that.
But gawd, I really want to.
“Hey,” James says, trying to remove my hands from my face. I finally submit but I know the colour in my cheeks is embarrassingly red. “You don’t owe me anything . You did half the work anyway and I don’t give to receive. I really enjoy giving. I promise. This sleeping bag massively restricts my abilities. There’s a whole world of things I want to do to you right now. But not here.”
I smile awkwardly. “Thank you?”
“Take it back,” he says calmly. “You’re literally not allowed to thank me. That is just a big fat no.”
I want to say “then I owe you”, but he’s already said I don’t. So, what now? I decide I may as well use the opportunity to play with his hair, wrapping my hands around his head and bringing his lips down to mine again.
We kiss slowly, dreamlike, until we’re exhausted and collapse into a heap within the sleeping bag. Our limbs are entwined. Our hearts seem to be beating in unison. It’s overwhelming to feel this close to someone. It’s dangerous really. We aren’t the people we are right now. I can feel something twinge in my heart, like an old violin string wound too tight at the thought of it ending. But it will end.
Has it really even begun?
Who are we beyond this tent? Who are we beyond this whole crazy adventure? We’ve never got along before. What’s to say we can make this work when (or if , at this rate) we ever get back to normality? I’ve acted on my instincts instead of my head.
We both have. And now we’ll have to suffer whatever the consequences are.
“Stop freaking out,” James mumbles into my thick, bushy hair.
I laugh breathlessly. “How can you tell?”
“I can hear your brain. It’s buzzing.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious. You actually hum a bit when you’re overthinking.”
“No, I don’t.”
He nuzzles in closer, tickling me with his fresh stubble. “I promise. You do. Stop thinking about it. Just let what happens, happen.”
I don’t respond after that. The weather has settled down again and we’re bathed in total darkness. James reaches up behind us and fiddles with the zip. I’m unsure why he’s doing it until I open my eyes. A bright sky, littered with stars, glows down on us between the thick trees. We stare at it in soft silence, watching its peaceful twinkling as we drift off to sleep.