For some reason her mother came into her head, and she found herself wondering what her mum would have said if she’d known Faith had fallen in love with Rusty. Her mum had adored both him and Toby, although she’d despaired over them both, especially Rusty, with his roving eye and refusal to stay with anyone longer than about two weeks.
“He’s a heartbreaker, if ever I saw one,” she’d said one day to Faith, when he’d left the house with yet another girl. “It’ll take a fine woman to get that one to commit.”
Faith now remembered the way her mother had looked at her, with a twinkle in her eye and a raised eyebrow. She hadn’t said anything at the time, not even thinking her mother could be referring to her, but now she wondered if her mum had seen something she’d missed.
“I don’t know if I can do it, Mum,” she whispered, reaching up to brush a stray hair from off his face. “I might need some help.” Her throat tightened, so she curled up beside him and closed her eyes. She had time left yet. She wouldn’t get maudlin, not until all hope was gone.
He woke her about an hour later with light kisses on her face and shoulders. “Come on, sleepy,” he said, lifting the duvet. “We’ve got a deadline to meet.”
“Oh.” Still dozy, she started to laugh as he disappeared beneath the quilt and brought it over his head. He kissed down her body, lingered on her breasts for a while, and covered her nipples with his warm mouth. He teased them with his tongue and sucked until she began to sigh. Then he kissed downwards and traced his lips over the skin of her stomach and hips, before he moved down and pushed up her legs so he could bury his tongue in the warm centre of her. Still clinging to the last strands of sleep, Faith felt as if she were floating in a vat of melted chocolate, luxurious and sensual, and she gave herself over to his loving mouth and hands. She trusted him implicitly, and revelled in the fact that he wasn’t going to stop until he’d taken her to the dizzy heights of pleasure.
Seven minutes later, it was six-three.
“I need to even the score,” she said lazily as he emerged from the bedclothes, hair ruffled and cheeks flushed.
“Nah. I’ve got other plans.” And he flipped her over, kissed her from head to toe until her laughter turned to sighs, slid inside her, and promptly made it seven-four.
By this time, the clock read nearly half-past three, and she needed chocolate. She brought the bar she’d put in the fridge back into the bedroom.
“Keep your energy levels up,” she said, and climbed onto the bed to feed a cube of Dairy Milk into his mouth.
“Yes, ma’am.” He sucked on the chocolate, lying on his side, his head propped on a hand. “I’m enjoying this.”
“Me too. What a good excuse for having sex all day.”
He laughed. “Yeah.”
“Have we beaten your previous record yet?”
“Yes, and you’re very happy about that, aren’t you?”
“What’s wrong with wanting to be the best you’ve had?”
He leaned across to give her a chocolatey kiss. “You were the best I’d had at sin number one, Faith Hillman. When will you start to believe me?”
She met his gaze and couldn’t stop herself blushing at the thought of her plans for their future. She rolled over so he couldn’t read the emotion in her eyes, stood and stretched. “You realise I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow?”
“Ah. I’ve got a solution for that.” He got off the bed and went into the bathroom. The next thing she heard was the water running and the gurgle of a bottle emptying into it. He came back in, smiling. “The bath’s huge. Plenty of room for two.”
“I thought the point was to relax me.”
“Orgasms aren’t relaxing?”
She ate another square of chocolate and shrugged mischievously. “Meh.”
Laughing, he fed her squares until she pleaded she was full. Then he led her into the bathroom and made her get into the bubble-filled bath before joining her at the other end.
They soaked until the water grew lukewarm, and listened to the radio while they talked about this and that as the bubbles popped and the water warmed her joints. Then he pretended to lose the soap, and she pretended to be affronted, and before she could count to ten, he’d pulled her onto his lap and was kissing her breathless. Soon the water was slopping over the side, and, in a surprisingly short amount of time, it was eight-five.
They walked up to the local café to get fish and chips for dinner and ate them on the beach, trying not to drop the hot flakes of hoki on the sand. He talked for a while about his job, and he told her he didn’t really have any plans to try to get a promotion. He’d considered becoming head of department, but the current head had been there for a gazillion years and wasn’t set to retire for another gazillion, so he knew he was unlikely to get the post any time soon.
“But that’s okay,” he said, taking the rest of her fish from her when she said she’d had enough. “I have no great aspirations for my teaching career.”
“So what are you going to do with the rest of your life?” she asked, not quite as innocent as she sounded.
“Dunno. I’d quite like to write history resources for schools. Some of the ones out there are just terrible, and I usually end up writing my own anyway, so I might as well make some money out of it.”
“And you see yourself doing that until you’re old and grey?”
“I guess. Toby and I are going to grow old and grouchy together like the old guys in the Muppets.”
She laughed and finished off the Coke in the bottle. Down the beach, a young mother walked slowly along the sand, accompanied by a dog and a toddler, two or three years old. The dog bounded off into the surf to retrieve a stick, while the toddler ran ahead toward them, all fat legs and waving arms, still finding his balance. As they watched, he tripped on a piece of seaweed and fell flat on his face. The mother had turned for a second, throwing the stick for the dog, and the toddler’s face screwed up as he bawled out a cry.
Before Faith could even move, Rusty was running the few yards to the child, and he picked him up and set him on his feet, brushing the sand from his face as his mother came up. She swung the baby into her arms and thanked Rusty. Faith heard him say something to them both as he cleaned the toddler’s hands of sand, making him giggle and bury his head in his mother’s neck.
Rusty came back and sat beside Faith. He wrapped the newspaper into a ball and raised an eyebrow as he saw her studying him. “What?”
“Do you want kids, Rusty?” She couldn’t help herself.
His green eyes were light, reflecting her gaze rather than letting it in. Then he looked out at the sea. “No. Family life’s not for me.”
She screwed the top slowly back onto the plastic bottle. “It seems kind of a shame that you’ve discounted a whole section of the future because you’re afraid of something that might never happen.”
He leaned forward, picked up a shell and examined it. Only after a few minutes had passed did she realise he wasn’t going to say anything. “Rusty?” she prompted.
“What?” He looked up, and his eyes were cool.
They studied each other for a moment. Suddenly she felt as if she were standing on a seesaw, waiting to see which way it would tip. It was incredibly important that she talk to him about this. She felt breathless with the significance of what she had to say. And she was terrified of saying it, in case it brought all her hopes and dreams crashing down.
“You shouldn’t punish yourself for what the men in your family have done,” she said. “You shouldn’t deny yourself a family life because they’ve been idiots. You’re a good man, honey. Don’t let their mistakes form your future. You’d be a wonderful husband, and a fantastic father. You’re destined to make some woman very happy. It would be such a waste to refuse to accept that fate.” She phrased it as carefully as she could and waited for his reaction.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rusty stood, took a few steps forward, drew back his arm and threw the shell out to sea. Then he
tucked his hands in his pockets and studied the waves.
His stomach felt as knotted as a tangled ball of wool. He hated discussing this with anybody. His friends had brought up the subject several times in the past, trying to convince him he was being stupid, and each time he’d refused to argue with them, listening to them until he couldn’t bear it anymore and eventually had to walk out, leaving them open-mouthed and frustrated.
He didn’t want to talk about it, because he harboured a terrible secret. He hated his family. He hated his grandfather, his father, his uncle and his brother, for having this terrible addiction they couldn’t control, for being so cruel and pitiless when under the influence of alcohol.
He also hated his grandmother, mother, aunt and sister-in-law for being weak and letting themselves be treated in such a way. He knew that was unfair, because it wasn’t their fault their spouses had mistreated them, and he knew how charming the Thorne men could be, on the surface. But still he resented the women for coming back for more, for letting the men think treating women in such a way was forgivable.
And he hated them all for making him feel the way he did, that he had no choice but to end the spread of the malevolence he felt was in his blood by staying alone for the rest of his life.
Part of him knew how ridiculous he was being. He loved women, and he’d never even spoken harshly to one, let alone mistreated any of his girlfriends. He wasn’t stupid—he knew there was no guarantee he’d react like his father or brother, even if he drank. He hoped he was a fair man, a kind one, a person who hated injustice and unfairness, who worked hard at his job, and who loved his friends. But the thought that Mr. Hyde might be lurking deep within him scared him enough to make him stay alone.
And there was also the issue of what might happen if he had kids. Faith had told him it was only blood and it didn’t mean anything, but Rusty didn’t believe that. Even if the family demon had skipped a generation, there was every possibility it might pass to the next. And he didn’t think he could bear to bring up a child, a boy, only to see him inherit the terrible Thorne curse.
The truth was, up until now, he’d had it easy. He hadn’t lied when he’d said to Faith he’d never really been in love. He’d been fond of some of the women he’d slept with, and he’d dated Meredith probably a little longer than he should have, because it had been a wrench when they’d finally broke up. But generally he’d found it easy to be fickle in his relationships, to discard women easily before they had a chance to think he was serious.
But then he’d never felt about any woman the way he felt about Faith.
Standing there, staring at the waves crashing onto the sand, Rusty finally realised he’d made a terrible mistake in suggesting he help her out with her articles. He knew she was falling for him and, deep down, he knew he’d fallen heavily for her too. He’d thought they’d be able to keep it simple, that the sex would be fun and frivolous, and it had been, for a while, but he hadn’t considered the fact that his heart might get involved.
He closed his eyes. Letting her go would be unbearable. To see her and know he couldn’t just walk up to her and kiss her, because she wouldn’t be his to kiss. To watch her with other men. To see her get married, and have babies. It made his heart twist, and he bit his lip as emotion welled inside him. But in spite of all that, he knew he couldn’t continue to date her. She deserved to find someone who didn’t have the sword of Damocles hanging over him, who could give her marriage and children without the threat of danger hovering.
He dropped his head, stared at the sand. He couldn’t think what to say.
Suddenly she was in front of him, cupping his face in her hands, kissing him. “I’m sorry,” she said, over and over again. “I’m so sorry, Rusty. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“I can’t,” he said hoarsely. “I just can’t.”
“I know.” She put her arms around his neck. He hugged her to him, and she pressed kisses around his ear. “It’s all right, sweetheart. You don’t have to explain.”
“I love you,” he said, tightening his arms. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t that much of a girl. He really wasn’t.
“I know.” She buried her face in his neck. “I love you too.”
They stood there like that for a while. The surf was strangely soothing, cleansing their emotion as it washed away the footprints of the dog in the sand. He felt himself grow calm now that he’d made his decision, although sadness overwhelmed him. He didn’t know what it meant for the rest of the night, for the final sin, or for their friendship. If she wanted him, he’d be there. If she wanted to end it now, he’d understand that too.
Eventually, she pulled back. He’d thought her face might be wet, but her eyes were clear, the colour of the wet sand, and she smiled as she looked up at him.
“What number are we up to?” she asked.
He stared at her. She could have reacted in a hundred different ways, yelled, cried, walked off, accused him. Her actual words shocked him, and to his alarm, a tear rolled down his face.
She brushed it away, tipping her head. “It was eight-five, if I remember correctly,” she said, as if nothing had happened. Her eyes lit mischievously. “I have something in my bag for us to play with, if you’re interested.”
He rubbed his nose. “I’m assuming it’s not Monopoly.”
She laughed, picked up the bag with the rubbish from their dinner and took his hand. “Slightly more vibrate-y than that. Come on.”
She led him up the beach and into the house, closing the doors. Daylight was fading and the sandflies would be snapping, and besides, the day had grown cool. She took him into the bedroom and began unbuttoning his shirt while he stood there, studying her, a gentle smile on his face.
She felt calm after the emotion that had washed over them on the beach. It wasn’t over, not by a long shot. She knew he thought it was. She’d seen his face when he’d looked at the toddler on the beach. And as he’d stood there looking out to sea, she’d realised the full extent of his angst, and why he felt he couldn’t ever get married and have kids. Not only was he still worried the family curse hunkered within him, he also thought of himself like the carrier of a disease, and was terrified at the notion of passing that disease on to his children.
It could happen, Faith knew. But surely it became watered down through the generations? Any children they might have would be half him, but also half her. And the fact was that even if it was like a disease that transferred to the next generation, they’d deal. They’d work together to cope with whatever life threw at them.
Faith wasn’t the sort of person not to do something because she was afraid of what might happen. In her mind, you had to weigh the pros and cons, and the thought of having Rusty as a life partner vastly outweighed any potential possible threat of the Thorne demon rearing its ugly head. With her whole heart, she knew Rusty didn’t have it in him to be the sort of man that his father and Cole were. He didn’t have a violent bone in his body.
Part of her knew that one thing he was worried about was sex. A passionate man with a high sex drive, she was sure he worried sometimes that he was going to hurt her in bed, that he’d overstep the mark and find the demon lurking, ready to play. But Faith was certain there was a difference between the dark desire she often felt inside herself during sex, and an actual desire to hurt the person you loved. Rusty feared the latter, and she knew he couldn’t bear the thought of ever hurting her. But she was certain that if he looked deeply, he’d find nothing but love and passion inside himself, and she was going to prove it to him.
Several hours remained before midnight. And she had a few ideas up her sleeve.
She finished the buttons and pushed open his shirt, sliding her hands over his ribs. Putting her arms around him, she reached up and kissed him, a soft, tender kiss, which he returned happily enough, to her relief.
“Are you okay?” she asked, looking up into his eyes.
“Yeah.” He brushed her cheek.
“You still wanna
play? I don’t mind if you say no. Eight-five’s a pretty good total for one day.”
He laughed and kissed her. “Oh I’m happy to play along, if you want me to.”
“You got anything left for me?” She rubbed her hips against his. “Or has the well run dry?”
He grasped the bottom of her T-shirt and lifted it off in one swift move. “I seem to have a refillable tank where you’re involved.”
She giggled and led him toward the bed, drew back the cover and pushed him onto the mattress. He slid off his shorts and moved back onto the pillows, and she quickly took off her skirt and climbed on, pulling the duvet over them.
She cuddled up to him and kissed him for a while. Eventually he pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “You mentioned you had something to play with.”
“Later,” she said. “I’ve got something else in mind first.” And, winking at him, she began to kiss down his chest. She disappeared under the covers, feeling him sigh as she worked her way down, and his hand slipped into her hair as she finally covered him with her mouth.
She aroused him slowly, tenderly, trying to show him without saying anything that she loved him, understood him, had forgiven him, and wanted to make him feel better.
And when she made it eight-six, she knew it had worked.
Afterward, he made her find her play toy, and she retrieved it from her bag and brought it over to the bed, where he was lying facing her, head propped on a hand.
“Oh yeah.” He eyed the long metal vibrator approvingly.
She slid into the bed beside him, flushing as he picked it up and studied it with interest.
“Where’d you get it?” He tested the button on the top, raising an eyebrow as it started buzzing.
“Auckland.”
He looked up at her, turning it off. “I didn’t know you’d been down this week.”
Seven Sexy Sins Page 18