Chapter Eighteen
Even though she felt like over-boiled spaghetti, the words shot straight to Elle’s groin. Wow, that would be . . . ! ‘O-OK,’ she managed.
Lucas was as still as a rock, probably wanting to yank those words back out of the air. She tried to think of a light remark to skip them over the awkwardness, but her mind was blank.
Suddenly, everywhere they were touching felt supercharged: his arm strong around her, their sides pressed together.
No wonder the child protection training had taught her that contact could be misunderstood. She was feeling twice as hot as the Mediterranean evening and completely unequal to giving him a quick grateful smile and extricating herself gracefully. Every inch of her screamed to be in Lucas’s arms for more than a comforting hug.
‘I didn’t mean it to sound quite like that.’ His voice was strained.
She snorted a mildly hysterical laugh. ‘And I didn’t mean that to sound as if going to bed would be OK. I m-mean . . .’
The awkward moment stretched out. Elle’s breathing played hopscotch.
‘Elle.’ His voice was a caress. He lifted a hand and stroked her hair back from her face. ‘Going to bed with you was all kinds of things, all of them a lot more than OK.’
Shyly, she lifted her gaze.
His eyes were glittering like black glass. His smile began slowly. ‘A lot more than OK.’
Unable to lubricate her voice enough to speak, she just nodded. A smile took over her lips.
He shifted so that they were facing one another, as much as they could within the confines of the dinette. He studied her face. ‘If I thought—’ His Adam’s apple moved.
Elle found herself nodding.
And then his head was moving closer. Until their lips touched with the lightest of kisses. Again. Again. Sweet, soft, barely there kisses.
Then he slid his hands up into her hair and his mouth took hers, his tongue hot as it traced her lips, and she was pulsing against him.
And it felt like coming home.
In a blur, Elle was vaguely aware of them struggling out from the dinette, scooting along the sofas while trying not to lose contact, banging knees and elbows, almost falling onto the floor.
She heard him begin, ‘Are you sure—?’ A question she answered by rubbing herself against him, smiling against his mouth when he groaned.
Steering her backwards, he lifted her off her feet for the four steps from saloon to galley, putting her feet back to the floor so that he could fumble behind her for the door handle to his cabin. The door crashed open.
‘Be careful with Simon’s boat,’ she murmured.
‘All I care about Simon’s boat right now is that it has a bed and you on it.’ He paused to glance ruefully at his tumbled sheets. ‘I didn’t realise that I’d be entertaining.’
She laughed. Then Lucas’s strong hands were searching until his fingers found her zip and unfastened it with a long, slow swoosh that raised goosebumps on her neck.
‘I’ve been fantasising about getting you out of this . . . thing ,’ he breathed, sliding the fabric down her arms soooooo slooooowly that every hair on her body seemed to stand up and crackle.
‘Playsuit,’ she supplied.
His laughter was soft and low. ‘Stupid name for it. I’ve worked out a route to getting you out of just about every outfit I’ve seen you in since you came on board this boat. Dresses that tie at the neck, shorts that zip at the side, buttons, hooks — I formulated strategies for them all.’ He dropped his head and nibbled her neck, his stubble brushing her skin.
She tried to take half a step back to read his eyes. ‘You’ve been planning this?’
He pulled her up against him again. ‘More dreaming than planning. If I’d known this was going to happen I would have been a lot more cheerful. I wouldn’t have acted like a moron about Kayleigh.’ He backed her up until the edge of his mattress caught her behind her knees. As she began to topple, he slipped his hands into her waistband and tugged, following her down so that, somehow, as she bounced onto the unmade bed, fabric was already skimming down her legs and off over her bare feet.
‘Impressive,’ she gasped.
He grinned as he let himself down gently on top of her. ‘What else have you got to challenge my ingenuity? A front-loading bra?’
‘No. Just the usual variety.’
He rolled so that she was on top of him, tasting the skin of her collarbone, her neck, exploring the strap across her back until he found the hooks and pinged them open. ‘So no particular ingenuity required.’ Then the laughter left his voice as the heat of his mouth found her bare breast. He groaned. ‘You are so amazing. I want you—’ He paused, his teeth grazing one nipple, making her jump. ‘I want you—’ He closed his lips around her and sucked, making her arch her back so that she could press herself against his mouth.
He sighed and his breath passing over moisture made her breast feel both hot and shivery. ‘I want you.’
* * *
Lucas woke slowly.
Eyes still closed, he felt the lift-and-slide movement that told him the boat was riding a swell. The day was going to be another hot one: his naked skin was bathed in sweat, though not even a sheet covered him.
Someone was breathing beside him.
Elle.
His eyes flew open and there she was, rumpled blonde hair streaming across her face. Last night had been neither memory, nor dream, nor guilty fantasy. She had been real beneath him. And then on top. Fresh desire rippled through him, pleasure and satisfaction in hot pursuit.
He’d made love to Elle again.
She lay on her front, her head turned on the pillow, one arm tucked beneath. Her shoulders showed tan lines. Her spine sloped down then curved deliciously to the mounds of her behind. He lay still, just watching her breathe.
Almost as amazing as the sex was the fact she’d finally talked to him about Ricky.
He wasn’t certain that anybody would understand how secrets made something inside of him turn to prickles and what it meant to him that not only had Elle finally shared what had happened to her, but, as a bonus, her ‘secrets’ had been surprisingly palatable.
What it amounted to was that she’d made a series of bad decisions out of naivety and gullibility and married the wrong guy, in secret, a snub from which her relationship with her parents had never recovered. The memories had made her visibly cringe but, if he hadn’t thought it would hurt her feelings, he would have laughed and reassured her that worse things happened. Far worse.
For many, the post-puberty decade was crammed with crap decisions and misadventure. They experimented, risked, smoked, overindulged, sniffed, overspent, injected, rushed, loved badly, chose stupidly, suffered, lamented and repented. Show him someone who had no regrets from their young-and-stupid period, and he’d show you someone with memory loss.
Her parents’ bad reaction, echoed, unfortunately, by the sniffiness of his parents, had made her frightened to talk about her mistake. His insensitive dismissal of those feelings had made her clam up still more. But now that Elle’s barriers were down, there was no reason for her to be anything but open with him in the future.
His stomach twisted.
He and Elle could have a future.
Picking up his watch from the niche beside the bed, he glanced at the time and then turned to stroke the side of Elle’s breast with one fingertip, savouring the softness of her skin. ‘Hey, sleepy. I have to be at work by nine-thirty so Polly will be picking me up soon. What time do you have to be doing your thing at Nicolas Centre?’
Elle’s eyelids flickered; then she reared up onto her elbows, eyes wide.
He grinned. ‘Yeah, it’s me.’
‘Whoa.’ She blinked.
‘Bit freaky?’
‘Lot freaky.’ But then she smiled, slowly stretching like a cat, which made him reach for parts of her he hadn’t touched yet this morning. Then she rose up on all fours, looking suddenly wary. ‘Are we OK? Is this—?’ She made a gesture to include their two bodies.
‘This is the OKest I’ve been in years.’ By shifting only slightly he could brush a row of kisses across her breasts. Her hair hung down and trickled over the side of his face. ‘It would be even better if we didn’t have places we have to be. Because I’d much rather be inside you than under the sea.’
She breathed a laugh. ‘I have to shower.’ But she dipped so that she could lick the side of his neck, under his ear, where some of his best nerve endings got ready to party. Then she sighed and slid away.
Reluctantly, he let her slip through his hands, and watched her walk out of the door, scooping up her clothes on the way.
Stretching, yawning, he stepped into his shower enclosure, making the visit brief, as he’d soon be jumping into the sea. Towelling off, he could hear her shower still running. If she got a move on, they could have coffee together before they had to leave for the day. He hoped she had nothing planned for this evening. Then he could spend all day looking forward to coming home to Elle, as he used to.
He imagined strolling to one of the pavement cafes, hand-in-hand, or soaking up the evening sun on the flybridge, lingering over a meal they’d prepared together.
Before they went to bed. Together.
His phone chimed, announcing the arrival of a text message. He was surprised to find it was from Charlie: How’s Elle this morning? Lucas’s night with Elle had almost wiped his memory on the subject of his brother’s presence on the island.
He pulled on the shorts, stuck some euros in his pocket, grabbed a T-shirt and went out to fill the kettle. No time this morning to wait for the coffee machine. He spooned instant granules and sugar into two mugs, just as Elle emerged, her hair freshly brushed and pulled up high in a ponytail.
He grabbed her quickly, before she could turn all shy on him, and showed her Charlie’s message. ‘Bro wants to know how you are. What shall I say?’
She blushed and giggled. ‘“Better than might have been expected”?’
He grinned. ‘How about “Fucking amazing!”?’
‘Don’t you dare.’ But her magnificent eyes blazed with laughter.
Pocketing his phone so that he had both hands free to curve around her buttocks, he pulled her close and kissed her. ‘It was amazing.’
‘It was,’ she whispered, sinking against him.
He decided to be pre-emptive in discouraging any elephants to materialise in the room. He felt certain that an elephant could do a lot of damage. ‘And I feel great knowing that you finally found a way to tell me all your bad stuff. Not that it was very bad. You know I’m weird about secrets.’
The sigh she gave might have been imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t holding her so firmly against himself. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, sadly. ‘I know.’
A heartbeat, then she pulled away, her smile in place and her voice bright again. ‘Right, well, I have to run. I want to get to the centre because I have to take time out during the day to talk to Dad and probably The Briars and the hospital. Then I’m working on Seadancer this afternoon. And I’ll talk to Joseph about the Bubblemaker.’
‘Right,’ he said, slowly. ‘Prioritise your mother’s situation. I could visit Joseph tomorrow, as I’ve got the day off, but don’t worry if you’ve got other stuff on your mind.’
‘OK.’ She pressed a quick kiss on his lips. ‘See you later.’ Holding her bag in front of her, she backed away, turned and jumped up the steps, across the saloon and away.
Lucas stared after her. Despite the smile, her expression had been closed.
He didn’t make the coffee. Instead, he locked up the Shady Lady , hauled in the gangplank, called at the cafe across the road for takeaway espresso and a couple of pastizzi , delicious little pastries filled with ricotta cheese . His appetite seemed to have disappeared but he knew better than to dive on an empty stomach.
While he waited for the green pick-up, he took out his phone and reread Charlie’s message. How’s Elle this morning?
He answered: Over the initial shock. But who knows what’s going on in Elle’s mind?