Chapter 30
MAGGIE
Jack pours us both a glass of whisky, the smoky liquid easing some of the tension.
We talk about what could have happened next.
He asks me more about my life, and tells me about his break-up with Vicky.
There is an ease to our conversation now.
We’re sitting so close. My feet tucked under me, Jack’s arm across the back of the sofa.
‘So where do we go from here?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know. Maybe go back to the pub? Ask around? Or ask the police to check out CCTV again?’
He smiles slowly. ‘I meant… about us.’
The air shifts as we look at each other, conversation falling away.
‘We all need our secrets, Jack. I’d hear your doubts, your worries… things you don’t even realise you’re thinking.’ My voice comes out in a whisper. ‘Our private thoughts should always only belong to us. That’s why this can never work.’
He moves closer still, our faces a few centimetres apart. ‘What if I don’t want to hide anything from you?’
I take a beat. ‘I’ve never wanted to touch anyone more than I want to touch you, Jack.
God how I’ve wanted to. I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone as much as I want to kiss you.
Be held by you. But I can’t. You’d never have space, privacy.
If I wanted, I could know everything about you, whenever I want. You’d never be able to hide anything.’
‘But still, even though you were locked inside a building overnight, even though I was a stranger, you didn’t.’
‘No.’
‘If I give you my permission, would you let me kiss you?’ His voice is quiet, deep, eyes lifting to mine.
I should say no.
But no words come out.
Jack’s hand moves towards my hair, he hesitates, letting it fall away. The warmth from his skin skates along my arms.
He’s even closer now; I can smell the warm earthy scent of whisky on his breath.
I tighten every muscle in my body; the slightest flicker of movement could undo us.
His forehead dips towards mine. This close I can see sparks of amber amongst the brown of his eyes.
I swallow, unsure of opening or closing my mouth.
‘You have to be sure this is what you want.’ My voice is hoarse, my whole body shaking.
His eyesight follows his hand as he reaches for my hair. ‘I’m sure.’ He takes a lock, and curls it around his index finger. His thoughts are gentle, quiet. He hasn’t touched my skin yet but my whole body is yearning for more. He tucks it behind my ear.
One, two, three.
He lets out a low laugh, the sound close enough to my ear to send goosebumps running along the right side of my body.
Always three seconds.
‘What’s always three seconds?’ I ask, my voice scratchy, my breathing erratic. He brings his focus back to me, eyes widening.
‘You heard that?’
He takes a moment. Looks deeply into my eyes.
‘Your hair, it always falls back from behind your ear in three seconds.’
‘It does?’
He nods. ‘Is this OK?’ He reaches for it again.
‘Ye… yes.’
He smiles. ‘And this?’ He moves closer, our noses almost touching.
‘Mmmhmmm.’
‘Tell me to stop if you need me to.’
‘Same,’ I say. ‘If you’ve got any weird foot fetishes… now’s the time to tell me.’
He smiles, our mouths are millimetres away from each other, then there is the faintest touch as his lips brush across mine. It’s delicate, light but heat rushes through me.
Take it slow.
Take it slow.
Take it slow.
He pulls back. My hand lifts to the back of his neck, not touching but ready.
‘Should I stop?’ he asks.
‘No.’ My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else, low, sultry.
‘How about now?’ He runs the back of his hand along the curve of my cheek and I lean into his touch.
So beautiful.
The depth of his true feelings for me shimmers in his voice. I’ve never felt more beautiful. There’s a flicker of fear. I can’t tell if it belongs to me or him. Because if we don’t stop, there is no going back. I open my eyes, my gaze drawn back to his mouth curving upwards.
‘What can you hear?’
‘That you want to take it slow,’ I reply my voice hitching. ‘That I’m beautiful.’ I should feel embarrassed saying it, but there is only honesty between us now.
His eyebrows rise a fraction as he begins to steer his way through the landscape of my condition.
He turns his hand over and I lean my face into his palm and I’m hit with desire, with heat, with tenderness.
‘It’s hard to differentiate your thoughts from mine.’
Can you hear this?
Can you hear how much I want to kiss you again?
‘Yes.’ His gaze slides down to my mouth. He runs his thumb over the swell of my bottom lip.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.
‘I can’t stop thinking about you either.’ He leans in, so close that we’re breathing the same breath.
‘Can I—’ I swallow. ‘Can I touch you?’
‘You don’t need to ask.’ He drops his thumb, moves closer still. I pull back a touch, eyes scouring his. ‘I always need your consent, Jack.’
‘Then, yes. I want you to.’ I let my hand find the back of his neck, warm, the tendons strong, his pulse fast. I grab onto his hair as his mouth presses onto mine. Our thoughts clamber over each other:
Oh God
I’ve never felt anything—
Like—
This.
Emotions explode through my whole body, the hot need of arousal, tenderness, urgency. I can’t work out whose thoughts are whose. His tongue flicks against mine, awakening my whole body. I let out a small groan; my hand pulls his hair, his body closer.
Slow. Down.
He pulls back, his eyes hooded, dark eyes almost black but searching that I’m still OK.
‘I’ve waited for my whole life to be kissed like this,’ I reassure him.
‘Same.’
I wrap my arms around his neck. All thoughts of taking things slowly have left both our minds.
We’re lost in each other… and it’s some kind of wonderful.