“Both, although I was referring to the drink. I could tell when I saw you in the wine bar with your friends that first night, that Prosecco wasn’t quite your style.”
“Mmm. Maybe. To be honest I’m not sure anymore. I think I’ve grown bored of the supposedly finer things in life. A lot of them are hyped up, a glass of Champagne is appreciated but I could quite easily live without it these days.”
He nods, pouring some more water into his glass, which sets the waiter rushing towards our table, as if he hasn’t done his job properly.
“I’ve done quite a lot of thinking just recently about how much money Charles and I wasted on stuff that was all about showing where we were in life and not really because we enjoyed it.”
“You don’t seem the frivolous type. Not from what I’ve seen of you anyway.”
“Thank you. It’s my sister that has got me pondering over this stuff. Her and her husband are about to leave their home in Florida and travel to Mexico to live a simpler life.”
“That’s interesting, what will they do for income there?”
“Blog apparently.”
He nods. “And what about you? Is that something you could see yourself doing.”
“No.” I quickly reply. “I’m not brave enough for anything like that. I know I don’t want to carry on working in the practice I’m at but I think I never really intended to. It’s just a means to an end; to see me through the house sale. And then once that’s sorted, who knows?”
“What about your dad?”
“Yeah, that is a consideration and I’m not sure. I have to fit, whatever I do decide to do, around being able to see him regularly.”
“Your sister doesn’t.”
“No, but that’s not because she doesn’t care, it’s probably just because she knows I’m there for him.”
The waiter sees that my champagne is nearly finished and brings over an amuse-bouche. A little salty soft scallop on a creamy horseradish paste. I watch with delight as Kane slides it off the ceramic spoon and into his mouth in one, his lips closing around the delicacy as he sucks it off.
Very erotic.
I’m not inclined to do the same and have to bite it in half which I hope doesn’t put him off in the same way that he has just turned me on.
“So how about you? What’s next after this summer. More research?”
“I’m not sure.” His eyes tighten and his look is questioning, which is confusing to me because I’ve not heard him ask me anything.
We’re having the pre-theatre menu and the restaurant is keen that we don’t miss the show, bringing out the three courses in quick succession. There is no appropriate interlude for me to progress with the conversation and perhaps encourage him to open up to me about Michelle. Just comments exchanged about the amazing food.
We walk the short distance to the theatre and I revel in the buzzing excitement in the foyer. Organised groups of tourists, programme sellers, ushers helping ticket holders to their seats, waiters hurrying in extra bottles of wine to the bar.
We have box seats and the view is amazing. High up above the side of the stage, I can even see the contours of the stage make-up on the faces of the actors. Every expression and nuance.
The performance is magnificent, not like any show I’ve seen before and we are both quite hyped when we leave the theatre. The air is still warm on the walk back to his house and we talk non-stop about the puppetry skills, costumes and lighting.
When we arrive at his home I feel a little nervous about revealing my underwear and wonder if I should switch it for something else now, before anything happens. Perhaps one of his t-shirts, as I haven’t brought any sleepwear of my own. It’s all still a bit new and I’m sure he will make a move. We’re not at that point in the relationship where we go to bed, kiss night-night and switch the light out. Even though we’ve just had a refined night out with no drama.
“Would you like a coffee or a beer?” He asks, giving me no time to act.
“Yeah coffee would be good.”
In truth, I would prefer a proper night cap but beer isn’t my thing. I don’t want to be all gassy when he goes to kiss me later. Which I’m hoping he does.
“I’ll make it if you like?” I offer.
“Okay, if you want to.”
Kane ventures out into the garden and Belle dutifully follows. I heap the coffee powder into the French press and wash up two cups in the sink. I don’t hear him come back in and am startled when I turn and he is stood in the kitchen doorway, staring at me.
“Everything okay?” I ask, a little concerned by the look on his face.
I watch him struggle to swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
“Yeah.” His voice croaky and rough.
I pass over the press and milk and silently follow him back out with the cups.
It’s still pleasantly warm and there’s a smattering of clouds in the sky, skirting around a full bright moon. Kane has lit a candle in a storm lantern, and is placing it on to the table so we can see to drink the coffee.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow? Do you have some work to do?”
“No. Yes. I mean… I do but I’m not going to do any tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? Don’t change your plans on my account. I’m sure I can find something to amuse myself.”
“No, I invited you here so we could spend some time together and I’m thinking that tomorrow we could go to the botanical gardens. It’s my favourite place in Oxford…for obvious reasons.”
“Sounds great. Yes, I would really like that.”
He falls silent. His eyes taking on a dark veil.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Kane?”
He shuffles his chair, closing the gap between us and moves his face in towards mine. His hand cups my cheek, the callouses grazing against my cheekbone. I turn my mouth to kiss the heel of his palm and his hand drags up into my hair, tugging on the strands as he pulls me onto his lips.
They are firm and demanding and he pushes my lips apart with his tongue, deepening the kiss.
I need to be closer and move to sit on his lap.
He slips a hand into the fold of my dress and caresses my breast. There is no padding to my underwear and I can tell from the way his movements are becoming more urgent, and the groaning he is making into my mouth, that he likes that. His hand drifts below my breast and onto my stomach.
“What are you wearing?” he growls into my neck.
“Why?”
“I need to see it. Now.”
He pushes me up off the chair and his hands come together, untying the ribbon that keeps the dress wrapped. It falls on either side of my body, revealing my white lace teddy. His eyes rake over my body. He pulls at the sleeves of my dress and it pools to the ground.
I’m standing in front of him in just the underwear, that I was shy of revealing in the privacy of his bedroom, in his garden, under a full lit moon, for all around to see.
I don’t care.
Neither does he.
He pushes off the chair and drops to his knees, pressing his nose into my stomach and I feel him take a deep breath in before he places a hot kiss on my belly button.
His nose drags down to my sex and he lazily pushes my ankle up and over his shoulder.
Dear Jesus.
Is he really going to do this here?
Now?
His hand is now pushing my underwear aside and he is inserting his thumb right into my centre.
His breath is raspy and concentrated onto my clit.
I can feel the sensation building, the illicitness of the situation heightening my senses, I have to place my hands onto his shoulders to steady myself because my leg is trembling already.
He switches his thumb for his finger and curls it up, quickly stroking where I am most sensitive and sucking on my clit at the same time.
I hastily bite down on my lip, drawing blood to stop me from crying out as the intensity crescendos.
I raise my eyes to the s
ky and see the stars in all their glory.
His finger slides effortlessly across my wet mound, spreading the juices over all of the sensitised area and keeping my orgasm alive.
Slowly, he takes my ankle and lowers it to the ground and remains knelt for a few moments pressing me with his hands on my backside so his face stays buried. His breathing is heavy and hot.
He drags his lips back up my laced body until he is standing firm against me.
His eyes are lustful but not in a playful way, there’s a more serious, slightly sad tinge to them. His intentions are entirely clear though as he turns and grabs my hand, leading me back through the house and up the stairs to his bedroom.
He roughly discards his clothes and stands two feet away from me.
All man.
I am going to take him, show him that he is all mine.
My man.
I place a hand on his chest and gently push him backwards until he succumbs and sits on the edge of the bed. I straddle him and rub myself up his length, the lace of my underwear creating friction.
He has to look up to me to respond to my kiss and when I move aside my lace and sit down on him, I silence him with my mouth.
His groan lost on my tongue.
I ride him. His hands on my backside forcing the pace. And when he comes I don’t stop until his groans turn into cries and I join him.
I stay seated for a while, feeling each sporadic jerk and twitch deep inside.
“Fuck Rosa. You’re one hell of an amazing woman. The best.”
“The best?” I ask him, as I climb off the bed and go towards the bathroom, looking back with what I hope is my best sultry pout at my gorgeous naked man; his feet languishing off the end of the bed.
“Yeah, the best.” He re-affirms.
I don’t break my hard-acted pout when I see the tattoo.
It reinforces to me that there was only one other he would have given that accolade to in the past and she has obviously been the best right up until now.
I know that because I have found the mark that he has made so he will be forever reminded.
One that I have just seen but already knew was there.
Somewhere.
Is he the best? Yes, it’s quite easy for me to offer that praise and I do so enthusiastically, because he quite simply is.
Nobody else has ever come close.
Ever.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rosa
I love the feeling when you wake up and think it is Sunday, and then realise it’s only Saturday.
Well this morning I awoke with that feeling and something a whole lot better. This morning I woke still wrapped in the arms of my lover, Kane.
Skin on skin.
It was the best Sunday, that was actually a Saturday, ever.
The sunlight streaming through the curtain-less window and bathing us in its warmth reaffirmed that.
Kane blinked open his eyes, craning his neck to give me a kiss on top of my head.
“Morning sexy.”
I squirm in his arms.
Just those two words made me arch my back so I can press into the length of his body.
He effortlessly pulls me on top of him and we make love just like it is Sunday morning.
“Still up for a bit more sightseeing today?”
“Of course.”
We get ready and head out across town to the botanical gardens.
Kane is in his element regaling the history of the site and the research that has come about here over the years. I can’t remember any of the plant names and even those I thought I recognized, turn out to be called something completely different.
I hadn’t appreciated the significance of plants in medicine and healing and I’m starting to understand why Kane is so passionate about his field of research.
It’s early evening before we think about leaving the gardens and my soul is feeling nourished.
My world in Yorkshire is now a dim and distant memory. One that I’m very happy to give up in a heartbeat for a guy that I’ve barely known for a week.
However, I realise it is naive to think that life going forward will be as good as this, and by the evening I’m convinced that I should prepare myself to leave on a high and bottle the feeling I have of love and adoration because it surely can’t last.
I’ve taken photos of us walking through the beautiful gardens; eating huge waffle cones full of strawberry ice-cream; and here, now, sitting on a lover’s seat under a huge tree in the arboretum, me snuggling into the crook of his arm. All in an attempt to capture the moments, the soaring emotions I have felt in this one weekend with this guy who makes my stomach flip and my knees turn to jelly.
This guy who nourishes my soul.
I have seen the stars and am now ready to fall in love but I’m not sure it is with him.
He is too perfect and I have this heavy gnawing pain in the bottom of my heart that he is not ready to fall in love with me.
Kane hasn’t opened up to me and while I might be overthinking, I’m worried he’s not ready to commit.
I think he likes me, I mean he invited me here and wastes no time in ripping my clothes off.
And then there’s the things he says. The words he uses.
Amazing.
Sexy.
Beautiful.
The best.
He’s helped put me back together. Shit no. He has put me back together. And maybe it’s my turn to do the same for him.
We both decide we’re beat. We must have walked ten miles today around the gardens and back to his house.
“What would you like to eat tonight?” he asks, as he turns the key in the front door lock.
“I’m not sure, I’m too tired to even think about it.”
“Shall I do you my special?” He twitches his eyebrows.
“Yes, that sounds most interesting.”
I follow him into the kitchen to watch him at work. He’s no chef that’s for sure and I have to sit on my hands so I don’t start tidying up after him. It looks like a bomb has gone off when he’s finished but it smells divine.
It’s a broth, or Ramen, as he calls it. With noodles and green stuff and other bits floating around in it and most bizarrely a fried egg. According to Kane everything tastes better with a fried egg on top.
It’s not the demurest of dishes and slurping up the foot-long noodles has me splattered all over with the salty broth, but it’s fun and we laugh and joke the whole way through.
“Oh. I’m done.” I grasp my rotund stomach. “It was absolutely delicious but look at the mess I’m in now. How on earth did you not get a single splash on your top?”
“I must have been hungrier than you.” He smiles.
“I’m going to have to get changed. We’re not going anywhere, are we?”
“No, we can just laze around here tonight.”
“Great. I won’t be long.” I reach across for his dish and he puts his hand over mine.
“Leave those Rosa. I’ll sort them while you get changed.”
I stand and give him a kiss before going back into the house and up to the bedroom. I look through my bag and realise I’ve only got one set of clean clothes left for tomorrow’s journey home. I wonder if there’s something of his that I can borrow?
I go through to the other bedroom, the one with the wardrobes and chest of drawers, and nearly choke on my swallow when I open the first wardrobe. It is full of dresses, skirts, blouses, which are so obviously Michelle’s.
I snap around to see Kane stood in the doorway, his head hung and hands leaning on top of the door frame.
“I’m… I’m sorry I…” My stuttering making the whole situation so much worse.
He pushes back off the door frame, walks towards me and closes the door of the wardrobe.
I touch his arm and he flinches, looking down and avoiding my eyes.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I was just looking for one of your shirts to put on.”
“I’d rather
you didn’t,” he murmurs to the floor.
“I’m sorry.”
He silently walks out of the room and jogs down the stairs.
I creep back into the bedroom and switch out my top for a clean one from my bag, sitting on the edge of the bed for a good few minutes before rejoining him downstairs.
He’s finished clearing the kitchen and is putting a collar and lead onto Belle.
“I’m going to walk the dog.”
“Okay. Shall I come too?”
“No.” He ticks his jaw. “It’s fine.”
Shit.
I’ve really upset him.
His whole life here is a shrine and a homage to her. One that I have no right to break into or interfere with. His love is still taken by a woman whose name is tattooed on the bottom of his sole.
Michelle
I don’t know how long he is gone, because I’ve fallen asleep on the couch in the living room. With no TV to watch I’d picked up Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier and it wasn’t until I was onto the second chapter that I realise the storyline is scarily close to the situation I am in right now. I quickly put it back on the bookcase, my heart beating rapidly at the thought of being caught out again. I switch it for Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, which is so hard to read it exhausts me and I doze off with my nose stuffed in between the pages.
It’s dark when I awake and I’m feeling groggy. I can hear movement in the house and get up to find Kane in the kitchen making coffee.
“Would you like one?” he asks.
“Yes please.” I stand gauging his mood. He doesn’t seem angry but certainly distant. It makes me want to cry because I’ve done this. His reaction might not be the most mature I’ve ever seen, but I know I’ve overstepped the mark.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I thought you must be tired.”
“Do you think we can talk about it?”
He looks up from the coffee making and lifts his head slightly in a gesture that I’m not altogether sure I understand.
It’s a maybe, or perhaps, or go on then.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kane
When I saw Rosa in my t-shirt the first night it was like looking at a ghost.
Michelle’s ghost.
Into the Light Page 16