Chapter Forty
CHAPTER
40
After I’ve mumbled sleepy instructions to Kit on where to find my keys and four-wheel drive, he fetches my overnight bag. Then he sits on the bed and kisses my shoulder.
‘Dinner?’
‘Yes please.’ I yawn and stretch. ‘I didn’t sleep much last night.’
As I shower and dress in shortie pyjamas, he orders a cheese and fruit platter from room service and sets it out on the table. But as soon as we’ve eaten, I’m yawning and ready for bed again. I keep my pyjamas on but he strips off, lying on his back before hauling me onto his chest. When I slip one of my legs between his, his erection nudges my hip.
‘Do you want to …’ My words are lost in a yawn.
He smiles against my cheek. ‘Sov godt, Mary Mackenzie.’
The last thing I recall is his heartbeat.
***
His voice would have been different when he was a little boy and cried like this, but the terror and fear would have been the same.
Heartbreaking.
I understand none of the words besides ‘Mamma’ as, on his hands and knees on the bed, he frantically digs. I untwist my pyjama shorts and kneel next to him, take his arm, shake it a little, repeat the same words over and over.
‘It’s a dream, Kit. A nightmare. Your mother is safe. She’s at home in Norway.’
‘Mamma!’ He drops his head, sucks in breaths, swipes at his tears with the backs of his hands. ‘Mamma!’
I grasp his wrist, hold it away from his eyes. ‘She’s safe, Kit. This is a dream.’
His sobs quieten a little; he listens.
‘You can call your mother tomorrow, I promise. You can tell her you’re going to the specialist for a final check. Parents like to hear things like that.’
Breathing still harsh, he sits back on his heels. A shudder. Eyes wide open, he looks around. His eyes fix on me.
‘Fuck.’
I give him tissues to blow his nose, I gently wipe his face. ‘Careful of your eyes.’
A final shudder. He sniffs, shakes his head. ‘Beklager. Sorry.’
Shards of early morning light creep through the curtains when I shuffle backwards, lean against the headboard and hold out my arms. ‘Come here.’
When he folds himself into my body, I hold on tightly, draw circles on his back, murmur meaningless words. His breath is warm on my breasts and his hair smells of pine. His legs are much longer than mine—the crunchy white sheet drapes over his hips. I trace the lines of his abdomen, change my position to see him more clearly.
He pushes back a little, looks up. ‘Does this hurt your shoulder?’
‘No.’ I tug him back into place, tighten my arms. ‘Definitely not.’
‘You could have been killed when you fell.’
‘Athena fell.’
He grumbles in Norwegian. Then, ‘Now you have Phoenix.’
I rest my chin on the top of his head. ‘Grandpa, who loves me a million times more than anybody else in the world, doesn’t worry as much as you do.’
I don’t know what he sees on my face when he sits, but he’s not sleepy or upset any more. Does he think I wanted him to say …
A flush moves up my neck.
He tips his head to the side. ‘I—’
‘Please don’t say anything!’ He’s so close that he’s virtually on my lap. And I can’t move backwards because of the bedhead. ‘Please.’
Holding back a smile, he lifts a hand, cups my cheek, kisses my forehead. He mumbles against it. ‘No words?’
‘No. None. No.’
‘Jeg elsker deg …’ His hands slide down my shoulders to my waist and he hauls me onto his lap. His eyes are bright with intent and lust and something I don’t dare think about.
‘Kit?’
He kisses me slowly, like we have all the time in the world. Just lips at first, careful tender lips that take the doubts from my mind and the breath from my lungs and the heart from my body. He opens my buttons one by one and touches my breasts with wonder. He lies me down and, slowly and carefully, he pulls off my shorts. He strokes my body, right side, left side, top to bottom, bottom to top until I’m a quivering, squirming wreck.
‘Kit …’
He whispers on my mouth. ‘Shhh.’
He’s lying half across me but when I try to wriggle under him, he stills.
‘Not sex, Mackenzie.’ His face is set, resolute. ‘Last night was enough.’
‘No, it—’
He kisses me quiet. ‘For the first time.’
‘I’m okay.’
When he comes up on an elbow, walks his fingers across my thigh and cups between my legs, it’s tempting to give in but …
I clamber on top of him, lay my hands flat on his chest. ‘I want you inside me again.’
He rubs his hands up and down my legs, cups my breasts, exhales in a groan. He comes up on his elbows, kisses my mouth with a long, wet kiss and mumbles words.
‘Kit?’
This time I welcome the stretching and pressure. And whatever it was I felt last time, the hint of sensation just out of reach, morphs into something tangible. Craving. Yearning. Desperation. He slows me down, holds me steady. Until finally, when he’s just as breathless as me, he grasps my hips.
I cry out first. In a heartbeat he follows. A tornado, a cyclone, a stormy summer’s day. And when it has passed, when warm and sleepy and weary I roll off his body and lie on my back, he slips into my arms. His breathing is harsh, his skin is warm. I lift my head, kiss one eye then the other.
‘Kit?’
‘Mackenzie.’ My name is a mumble.
‘Remember I said I have to tell you something about Dad?’
He nuzzles my breast. ‘Two nights.’
‘What?’
‘If Gordon says yes, will you stay again tonight?’ He hides a yawn. ‘Then we have time.’
As his skin cools, his breathing deepens and he sleeps. The ocean pounds on the shore. The wind strengthens, whistling through the leaves of the trees. My body is heavy, my eyes flutter closed. But I’ve only just gone to sleep when he’s restless again. I pull him even closer, mutter words against his shoulder till, his head on my chest and one of his legs flung over mine, he finally settles.
‘You’re safe, Kit. You’re always safe with me.’