The others had started to talk about some TV show that he didn’t watch. Surreptitiously, he slid his phone out of his pocket, flipped it open and started a new text.
Chapter Sixteen
Faith put her cup of tea on the living room table and curled up on the sofa, thinking over the events of the past week. The evening at the Copthorne had been bittersweet. Although she’d had her little revelation about the fact that she was falling for Rusty, Faith had known she was still going to have to go through with the sins, because if she backed out, he’d know what was going on in her head. And besides, she didn’t want to back out. What she had said was true—he was showing her things about herself she’d never known, and taking her on an exciting journey. She didn’t regret starting the affair—or whatever she should call it. But she was very much going to regret ending it.
Unless… She pulled up her legs, wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. Did it have to end? She knew Rusty’s views on long-term relationships, and knew he didn’t intend to settle down, ever. He was scared that if he allowed himself to love someone, he would hurt them terribly, like every other man in his family seemed to do. Of course, it was rubbish. Wasn’t it? He didn’t have a cruel bone in his body. He would make an excellent husband and a wonderful father.
But surely his sister-in-law, his mother and his grandmother had all thought the same thing before they married the other men in his family? They’d all fallen in love, had all thought marriage would be blissful, forever. And they’d all been horribly disappointed. Faith had heard Rusty’s mum, Anna, talk about his dad, Luke, and had been shocked at how vitriolic she’d been. Anna tended to keep her feelings to herself when Rusty was around, but when Faith had asked something about Luke, Anna had not bothered to hide her feelings for the man she’d once loved but now hated with a passion.
Of course, part of the problem in his family was the alcoholism that passed from father to son. All the Thorne men suffered and, when drunk, all of them turned nasty. Faith hadn’t seen it first hand. But Rusty had told her about how his father reacted when under the influence—how he’d once wrecked the house, slammed Cole into the wall, yelled at Rusty until he was in tears, and beaten Anna almost senseless, driven mad by some unprovoked fit of jealousy that he couldn’t even remember in the morning.
She knew Rusty saw alcohol as an evil demon, a kind of malevolent spirit that possessed the Thorne men when they drank. He never talked about it in front of his friends, and never seemed to mind if they drank, because he obviously only saw it as a family problem. Faith could understand that, because when Dan got drunk he became incredibly funny, Toby just tended to go to sleep, Eve got giggly, and Faith herself, well, it just made her want to dance.
But Rusty had never let himself have a drink, so none of them—including him—had any idea what he was like when he was drunk. He was terrified it would transform him into a monster, like Dr. Jekyll drinking the potion. He was so scared of turning into Hyde that he wouldn’t go near alcohol, and she couldn’t blame him for that, even though somehow she couldn’t imagine him turning nasty.
But it didn’t make sense that he’d decided he was too dangerous to let himself ever get close to a woman. Even if alcohol did change him, he never drank, so where was the danger? She knew it went deeper than that, though. He’d seen all the men in his family hurt their women—had seen his grandmother, mother, aunt and sister-in-law cry because of what the Thorne men had done to them. And sweet, gorgeous, honest, loyal Rusty couldn’t bear to let himself ever get in a position where he might do something so terrible to someone he loved.
Of course, he didn’t realise he was doing that to every girl he went out with who wanted to continue to see him. Or maybe he did, but thought it couldn’t possibly hurt them as much after half a dozen dates as it would if he was horrible to them after a long-term relationship. During one of their late-night sessions around the pool, he’d once announced he wished he could be a monk. They’d all burst out laughing at the thought of Rusty being celibate, but Faith could still remember the serious look that had appeared on his face before he, too, had started to smile. He’d meant it—he didn’t want to want women. He wished he didn’t have physical urges. It was just unfortunate he had a sex drive that could power a rocket to the moon and back.
One day, she knew, someone would convince him to have a real relationship. A woman would come along who he felt strongly enough about, a woman who would be able to persuade him that she was worth the risk.
But was that woman her?
At that moment, her phone sang in her handbag, letting her know a text had arrived. She flipped it open. Rusty’s number was at the top. How ironic. She felt herself blush, as if somehow he’d picked up she’d been thinking of him. What was wrong with her? How could she be blushing when he was a mile away?
She read the text, her heart thumping. What r u up 2? Has Beau left yet?
Smiling, she sent back: Yeah, he’s gone. Miss him :(
A minute later, another text came through. He misses u 2. Want 2 meet up?
She returned: That’s not in his contract.
After a couple of minutes, as if he was thinking what to say, he replied: It’s Rusty asking, not Beau.
She gave a short laugh. She shouldn’t see him. She was only making it harder on herself. But that thought kept ringing through her head, as if it were one of those bells above a shop door. Was that woman her? And his words, He misses u 2, gave her hope.
She texted back. Lol. That’s ok then. Stone Store, 10 mins? She started getting ready—took off her trackpants, slipped on her jeans, brushed her hair and put on a slick of lipgloss, in anticipation of his reply.
Beau’s jealous. But Rusty will b there. C u then.
Laughing, she clicked the phone shut and headed for the door.
When she got there, his car was already in the car park of the Pear Tree, the lovely bar and restaurant that overlooked the Kerikeri inlet. She parked next to him and walked past the small wishing well to the Stone Store, the oldest stone building in New Zealand. He sat on the steps to the Store and watched her as she walked up to him, a small smile on his face.
“Hey,” she said, perching beside him.
He shifted aside a little to make room. “Hey.” He wore his usual tight black jeans and black shirt, sleeves rolled up. His hair was getting long and needed cutting, and it curled around his ears and neck. He ran his hand through it. “I look scruffy, I know.”
“Yeah.” She met his gaze, seeing something lurking in his green eyes. “What’s up?”
He shrugged and picked at some mud on the knee of his jeans. “Nothing. Just wanted to see you, that’s all.”
She didn’t say anything. But she nudged him with her elbow. He nudged her back, and they laughed.
“Wanna Coke?” she asked, nodding toward the Pear Tree.
“Sure.”
They stood and walked across the road. It was about seven o’clock, and daylight was starting to fade. The weather was warm and humid, the cicadas calling in the bush surrounding the inlet, and Faith felt a trickle of sweat run between her breasts. They didn’t hold hands—she was with Rusty, after all, not Beau, but still she felt a little zing of electricity as he brushed his arm against hers, enough of a zing to send yet another flush to her cheeks.
The bar was stuffy, so they bought a drink and made their way out the back to the grassy bank overlooking the inlet. There were no free tables, so they sat on the grass under an oak tree, Faith cross-legged, Rusty with his long legs stretched out, leaning back against the trunk. He looked melancholic, although he smiled when she winked at him.
“I’ve been reading a great book on women in Anglo-Saxon England,” she said.
“Oh?” His eyes lit up.
She proceeded to tell him what she’d learned. She knew he’d interject with his own facts and wanted to see him glow, as he always did when he was talking about history. He didn’t disappoint her, and was soon telling her about
Sutton Hoo and West Stow and pottery techniques. She listened, glad to be able to study him as she did so, pleased to make him happy.
“You haven’t got a clue what I’m talking about, have you?” he said eventually.
“I do so! Sutton Hoo. King Raedwald. No skeletal remains present, probably because of the acidic soil.”
He laughed. “I stand corrected.”
“I like history. And I like listening to you talk about it. You don’t bore me.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
She smiled. She liked being back with her old friend Rusty again. For the moment, there was no sign of the man who’d driven her wild in bed, no heat in his eyes. He looked across at her, met her gaze and held it for a while.
“We’ll still be able to do this afterward, won’t we?”
“Do what?”
“Talk like this. It’s not going to be odd?”
She broke her gaze away and looked across the inlet. Some teenagers were making their way across the rocks, the girls giggling, the guys showing off. Ten-to-one several of them would be in the water before they reached the other side.
His talk about the ending of their affair depressed her. She was stupid to think she’d be the one to change his mind on long-term relationships. How should she answer him? She knew what the truthful answer would be. That of course it would be odd, because she’d have to watch him bring other girls into the bar, his arm draped casually around their shoulders, as she’d seen him do before so many times. He might even kiss them in front of her, the thought of which made her heart stutter in her chest and her throat tighten painfully. How would she feel on seeing he’d given a new girlfriend a hickey, thinking of him thrusting into her from behind, murmuring she was the best he’d ever had as he fastened his warm mouth on her neck? It made her feel sick.
Her fingers tightened in the grass, but she made them relax. She sipped her wine and gave him a smile. “Of course we’ll still be able to talk.”
He nodded, but she wasn’t sure she’d convinced him. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore—she’d start crying, she was sure. Instead, she changed the subject again and asked him about the upcoming ERO inspection at the school, getting him to tell her about what schemes of work he needed to prepare, and he didn’t mention the matter again. They talked for an hour as the sun gradually set, and eventually the grass grew cool on her legs. Regretfully she said she ought to think about going home.
They walked through the bar to their cars. She leaned against hers, and he leaned against his, just a foot away.
“So, until next Saturday?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“Where are we off to?”
“Actually Eve and Dan are going away for the weekend, so I thought we could stay at my place, if you like.”
He smiled. “Sure. And what sin’s this one?”
For the first time that evening, she felt her heart rate increase a little. “Wrath.”
“Hmm.” He studied her, his eyes fixed on hers, and his smile grew as a blush filled her cheeks. “That’s my girl.”
She touched the back of her hand to her face. “I don’t know how you do it. You could make me blush from a hundred yards.”
He stepped closer, still smiling, but didn’t say anything. He laced the fingers of his right hand through the fingers of her left down by their sides. Then he bent his head and kissed her.
We’re in public, she thought, panicking a little, her heart racing, but his lips were so soft, the kiss so gentle, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. He placed his left arm around her, still holding his keys, and tightened his grip so she had to press herself against him. She put her hand on his chest and opened her mouth automatically under his, even though she was trying to keep the kiss light and friendly. He answered with a sweep of his tongue, and that was it, she threaded her fingers up through his hair, and he released her hand so he could pull her against him. White-hot heat flared between them, making her gasp, and she could feel her nipples tightening, an ache beginning between her thighs. Her body desired him, even though she was trying to keep herself distant.
In reply, he pushed her against her car, his body even more traitorous than hers, displaying his passion quite obviously in the hardness of his erection when he pressed his hips against her.
Somewhere at the back of the car park, a car horn tooted, and Rusty lifted his head sharply, even though the driver wasn’t targeting them. He didn’t pull back, though, and Faith could feel the pounding of his pulse in his neck beneath her fingers. His eyes were dark as they searched hers, his fingers digging into her waist. “How am I going to do it?” he asked hoarsely. “How am I going to be able to let you go?”
Her heart swelled. More than anything, she wanted to ask him to go back to the bar with her and tell Dan and the others they were seeing each other. Then she wanted to take him home to her bed, where they could wake up with each other next morning and for all the mornings after that.
But his eyes, although passionate, were frustrated, bordering on angry. He didn’t want to feel this way about her. She had to play this carefully. Women had done it since before the dawn of time—Cleopatra, Eleanor Woodville, Anne Boleyn, Wallis Simpson… They and many more both before and after had had to be clever, conniving, to get the man they wanted. And she was going to have to do the same.
“Don’t think about that now,” she said softly. She brushed her lips against his. “Think about next Saturday.” She let her lips curve and gave him a saucy look. “I have fur-lined handcuffs.”
As she’d hoped, the frustration faded from his eyes, desire taking its place. “Fur-lined?”
“Well, play ones obviously. They’re symbolic. That’s the point, isn’t it? It’s about trust. You don’t have to really tie someone up.”
He seemed amused. “Huh.”
“You don’t agree?”
He nuzzled her ear. “Where’s the fun when you know you can escape at any moment?”
A frisson of excitement rippled through her. “Rusty!”
“What?” He pressed his lips to her neck. “Don’t tell me the thought of me chaining you to the bed and keeping you as my sex slave doesn’t turn you on.”
“I…” Oh dear. “Um…”
He lifted his head. He was smiling, and he kissed her nose. “That’s what I’m here for. To show you the flower garden.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
“Absolutely.”
“That’s my role.”
“Yes, of course. And you’re so good at it. How did you become such a gardener?”
He gave a short laugh. “Have a good week, Faith. Thanks for meeting me tonight.”
“I enjoyed it.” She reached up to kiss him one more time.
“Me too.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “I always do, with you.”
Chapter Seventeen
It had been a busy week. Rusty had been preparing for the ERO inspection, plus he’d had a parent evening and an after-school staff meeting. They’d texted and emailed each other regularly, but he hadn’t had a chance to see Faith all week.
Consequently, he was desperate to see her, firstly because he’d missed her and he was starting to dislike being apart from her, and secondly because he was as horny as a stallion in a field of brood mares. Sitting in the car in front of the rugby ground, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and tried to think about inspectors and schemes of work and Henry the Eighth wall displays in an effort to distract himself. He’d been daydreaming all week about handcuffing Faith to the bed and torturing her with various pleasure-inducing methods. Consequently, sporting a hard-on the size of the Sky Tower, he was beginning to worry about embarrassing himself by arriving before the train entered the station, so to speak.
The passenger door opened, making him jump, and Faith slid in beside him. She smelled of autumn, and she looked happy and bubbly as she turned in her seat to look at him. “Hey, you.”
“Hey,” he said,
smiling.
She didn’t say anything else but sat with her back against the car door, her eyes dancing.
“What?” She looked gorgeous with her long brown hair tumbling around her shoulders, her beautiful chocolate-brown eyes wide and teasing.
“I thought this time would never come. I’ve been thinking about it all week.”
“Me too.” He let his gaze drift to where she’d unbuttoned her white shirt low enough to expose a hint of cleavage and a swell of pale breast. He closed his eyes for a moment, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel again. Down, boy.
She laughed and moved toward him, leaning across so she could brush her lips against his. “Do you need some pre-sex sex, sweetheart?” She moved her mouth to his ear and murmured, “Poor Rusty. All wound up and no one to take it out on.” She kissed back to his lips and he sighed, recognising she was teasing him.
“Unfair,” he mumbled.
“Is it?” She moved her hands to his pants, and to his surprise, she undid the zipper.
“Hey.”
“Just relax. I’ve been planning this all week.”
He tried to push her away. “I can’t, not now—I’m supposed to meet someone in a minute.”
“Who?”
“Just a friend. He’s got something I need to borrow.”
“Oh. Let me know if he turns up.” Before he could stop her, she had her hands on his pants again.
“Faith!” He was genuinely shocked and tried once again to push her hands away, but she resisted firmly, and within seconds she’d pulled down his boxers, releasing his very eager erection.
“Oh yeah.” She closed a hand around him in delight.
“Whatever happened to foreplay?” He tried to tuck himself back in, scanning the domain hurriedly for the person he was supposed to meet.
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