He nodded, well aware of the intensity of the school world, although he couldn’t quell a feeling of disappointment at the thought that she didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic about having a family.
“And although we were hardly hardened partygoers,” she continued, “there was always something going on to keep us amused.”
“Have you never been in love?” he asked softly. Suddenly it was very important for him to know. “Never thought about settling down?”
Her eyes met his again. Kathleen Molony’s eyes were a light green, the colour of mistletoe, and his sister’s were a greeny-grey, but Mia’s were a beautiful blue-green, almost turquoise.
“I’ve thought I was, several times,” she said. “Now I’m not so sure. I think it was more in lust, you know? The older I get, the more I’m convinced that love is something that develops over time, and that it comes from trust and commitment and feeling comfortable enough to share your life with someone. It’s more than being physical.”
He nodded, wondering if there was a subliminal message there. Was she trying to remind him their relationship was purely carnal? That he shouldn’t get carried away?
Frustrated at not being able to read her mind, and annoyed that he was tempted to pick up the set of keys she’d left on the table to see if he could get any details from them, he finished off his tea and put the mug on the bedside table. “Well, look, if you need to get going and have things to do, don’t let me stop you. But if you’re at a loose end, I’d be happy with some company.” There, he couldn’t leave it more open than that, could he?
Her gaze softened. She finished off her own drink, then fumbled around in her handbag and took out a box of mints. She popped one and crunched it as she stood and pulled off his T-shirt. He watched, mesmerised by her taut, lithe body, her full but pert breasts, trying not to let his eyes wander to her stomach, trying not to think about what might be happening inside her and what an impact it would have on their lives.
“I’m not busy,” she said, crawling back onto the bed toward him, “and I’d love to come with you.” She climbed on top of him, pressing him back into the pillows, and filled his senses with soft skin, strawberry hair and the taste of mint as she lowered her lips.
He sighed and ran his hands down her body, nestling his rapidly hardening erection into her soft mound through the boxer shorts. In response, she groaned and rocked her hips, arousing herself on him. He filled his palms with her breasts, loving their weight and the way her nipples changed from being velvety soft cones to hard, tiny buttons as he played with them.
She lifted her head to look at him, and they studied each other for a moment, while she brushed the hair out of his eyes then stroked his cheek with her thumb.
“I need a shave,” he said.
“Bristle rash,” she replied, and smiled.
“I’ll be careful.”
“I know.” Her eyes glistened. What was going through her mind? Why were women so hard to read? No wonder he was tempted to use his ability.
“What’s up, honey?” He stroked her back. “Are you feeling okay? How’s your back?”
“Okay, at the moment.”
“We don’t have to do anything…you know. We can just talk. Or watch TV.”
Her lips curved. “Are you saying you don’t want me, Mr. Molony?” She wriggled atop him, thrusting against his erection. “Only this kind of suggests otherwise.”
“Ah, I didn’t say that.” He caught her around the waist and flipped her over, lying heavily on her so she couldn’t move.
“So are you going to subject me to another uncomfortable sex session?” she complained. “I still have a dent in my hip where the door handle dug in.”
Guilt swept over him. It was true—it hadn’t exactly been the most relaxed lovemaking he’d had, and he felt rather ashamed that he’d insisted on the car and hadn’t taken her inside. But he’d been swept up in the moment, and she’d looked gorgeous all breathless and damp from the rain.
“Colm, I didn’t mind really,” she said, touching his face. “I was joking. It was exciting.”
“You can read me far easier than I can read you,” he grumbled.
“You’re kidding me, right?” She looked astonished. “With your gift?”
“I try not to use it.”
“I’d be using it all the time if I were you,” she said.
“It seems as if I’m intruding. It’s like eavesdropping—you might not like what you hear.”
“True,” she said. “But I promise if you listened in to my thoughts, you’d only hear nice things.”
It was a lovely thing to say, and to show his approval he kissed her, letting his hand trail over her body while he did so. He brushed up her thigh and slid his fingers between her legs, encouraged to see she was already ready for him.
He lifted his head and rubbed his nose against hers. “I’m glad you didn’t mind about the car. I know I didn’t leave you much choice.”
“No. You can be very forceful.” Her eyes lit up and she brushed her lips against his. “I looooove that.”
He chuckled and kissed her properly. “Want me to be forceful again?”
“Ooh, yes.”
“No problem.”
He lifted himself up and got off the bed, picked a condom off the table where he’d left them and pulled her to her feet.
“Don’t tell me,” she said, “we’re going out onto the fire escape.”
“Not quite.” He turned her and began to back her across the room, nuzzling her ear as he did so.
“Kitchen table?”
“Nope.” He sucked her earlobe, continuing to push her out of the bedroom into the living room.
She shivered. “Sofa?”
“Nope.” He kissed her deeply, guiding her around the armchair and coffee table to the window.
She met the curtained glass with a bump and gasped. “Jeez, it’s cold.”
“So I see.” He flicked her tight nipples.
“Colm!” She tried to push his hand away, but she’d fired his blood and he wasn’t willing to wait any longer.
He tore the wrapper off the condom and rolled it on quickly, and then, before she could protest, placed both hands beneath her butt and lifted her.
She squealed and wrapped her legs around his hips. “What are you doing?”
He swept aside the net curtain the owner had insisted on putting up for him and pressed her up against the glass, resting her butt on the tiny window sill. “Is that a trick question?”
“Colm, seriously, there are people walking down there.” She glanced at the pedestrians strolling by a few floors down. “If they look up, they’ll be able to see everything.”
“So let’s put on a show.” He moved his hips until the tip of his erection parted her warm flesh, then let her slide slowly onto him.
“Oh my God.” She tipped her head back against the window, eyelids fluttering. “I will never get tired of that.”
“Me neither.” He touched his lips to her throat as he moved his hips back and forward. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
She clasped his face in her hands and kissed him hungrily, and he responded with heartfelt desire, plunging his tongue into her mouth as he thrust inside her. He meant it—he’d never tire of doing this with her, of burying himself inside her. They fit together so well, moving like oiled machinery, slick and rhythmic. He wanted to make love to her a hundred different ways, in a hundred different places, but even if he could only ever have her in bed in the missionary position, he knew he’d never be bored.
“Oh, how do you do that?” she moaned, screwing her eyes up with pleasure.
“Do what?” Encouraged, he continued to rock his hips, grinding against her.
“Oh…that…” She clenched her fingers in his hair and bit her bottom lip. “God, Colm, how do you know exactly…what to do to me…”
“Instinct,” he mumbled, rapidly losing the power of speech. She clamped around him, warm and wet and soft, and he
pushed his hips forward, pausing for a moment to sink deeper into her. “Fuck.”
She kissed him again, urgently now, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before she came. He was beginning to know the signs—the way her breathing turned ragged, and how she sank her nails into his shoulders as her muscles tightened.
“Come on, baby,” he murmured, holding back his own climax so he could enjoy hers. “Give me everything you’ve got.”
She squealed as she came, tightening around him in pulses, and he watched her tug her bottom lip with her teeth and screw up her nose with pleasure, loving the fact that he was the one who’d brought her to the heady heights of bliss.
And then he let go and felt heat rush up, felt himself swelling inside her, and he gave small, shallow thrusts as he came. It was exquisite and heavenly, and he let it go for as long as he could, enjoying the feel of her wrapped around him, her breath warm on his ear.
When he’d finally done, he pulled back and kissed her. “You okay, love?”
“Mm.” A frown flickered on her brow.
“Your back?” he asked, somewhat guiltily. He hadn’t even given it a thought.
“No.” She dropped a hand between them to her abdomen, but didn’t say anything.
He withdrew carefully, alarm firing through him as he saw blood. “Mia.”
“Shit.” She shook her head at the look on his face. “It’s okay, it’s just my period. It’s early. I’m sorry, it wasn’t due for another day or so, but I’ve never been terribly regular.”
“It’s okay.” He walked across to the dining table and retrieved a handful of tissues, disposed of the condom and then handed the rest to her. “I’m sorry too—was I a bit rough?” He remembered how he’d thrust deep. Was it his fault?
“No, no.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll just nip to the bathroom.”
“Of course.” He followed her through to the bedroom, where she picked up her panties and purse and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.
He slipped on his boxers and jeans then went back into the living room to give her some privacy in case she wanted to dress. He switched the kettle on again, more for something to do than because he was thirsty. Typical bloody Irish, he mused, thinking tea solves everything.
He ran a hand through his hair. So she wasn’t pregnant. Well, that solved all his problems, didn’t it? At least now he didn’t have to worry about her being a single parent, or leaving behind a child who’d never know him.
So why did he feel this awful, overwhelming sense of loss?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mia stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes glistened from the tears that threatened to fall.
“It’s a good thing,” she whispered to herself. “No baby wants to be an accident.” She wasn’t even in a permanent relationship—it would have been terrible to get pregnant when the father was due to move to Venus—or as near as dammit.
A tear finally tipped over her lashes and trailed down her cheek. She studied it absently, sullenly, for a moment. She had to be honest with herself. She’d hoped that if she was pregnant, it might force Colm to stay with her in New Zealand. But it was just a fantasy, and an unfair one at that. What sort of relationship would it be if he felt he had to stay? Because knowing Colm, he’d want to do the right thing, even if that did mean living in a strange country and being apart from his family. But that wouldn’t stop him being homesick. Things would deteriorate between them as his resentfulness grew, and then one day he’d grow to hate her. And she didn’t think she could bear that.
She wiped the tear away, got her makeup bag out of her purse and quickly applied some powder and a bit of mascara. She hadn’t lost a child, or an opportunity. She’d started her period, and that was why she was feeling a bit emotional.
A slick of lip gloss completed the look. She left the bathroom, found the bedroom empty and saw his jeans gone from the back of the chair. So she pulled on her shirt and skirt before walking back into the living room.
He stood in the kitchen, leaning against the worktop in much the same position as he’d been in when she’d walked out half an hour earlier, only this time he wore jeans on top of his boxers. She paused, catching her breath at the sight of him. Shirtless, arms folded, his biceps bulged, and she could see the trail of hair travelling down from his flat stomach below where his waistband hung on his hips. He was a fine figure of a man.
He also looked very sad again.
She walked into the room and he glanced over, pushed himself off the worktop and came toward her. Wordlessly, he put his arms around her.
Surprised, she rested her head on his chest and tried to take comfort in the warmth of his embrace. It was difficult, though. Why does it feel like things are coming to an end? Was he about to say it would be best if they didn’t see each other again? Panic swept through her. She didn’t want it to end, not yet. Obviously it couldn’t last beyond the year, but they could have fun up until then, couldn’t they? Maybe he’d realised how knotted up she’d been about the baby thing—maybe he’d read her using his strange ability, and it had scared him. If she wanted to keep him a bit longer, she was going to have to lighten the mood a little.
She pulled back and gave him a big smile. “Are you making tea again?”
“It’s our answer to everything.” He cupped her face. “Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry about that, it was a little embarrassing. But it was a huge relief, actually. I was so panicking I was pregnant, and that would have been a nightmare.”
He continued to stroke her cheek with his thumb, but all he said was, “Yes.”
“I don’t want babies yet,” she said breezily. “Plenty of time for all that. For now I just want to have fun.”
“Sure,” he said, “who doesn’t?” He turned away and went back to the mugs. “Do you want another coffee?”
“Actually, I wondered if you wanted to catch some breakfast out.” Maybe, she thought, if they left the bedroom, things would become less intense. “Then we can go on to see that road.” She was nervous about that. The name had rung a bell, and she had her suspicions about it.
“Sure. Let me get dressed then.”
He went into the bedroom, and she heard him moving about choosing a shirt. Was it her imagination, or was there an atmosphere between them? He’d hugged her, but his eyes had been cool. She sighed. She’d never been very good at guessing people’s moods and always wished they said what was on their minds. That was why she got on so well with Grace, who always said the first thing she thought and somehow lacked the ability to vet her words. That suited Mia just fine, and she loved being with Grace and never having to puzzle about what she was thinking.
That made her think about the fact that Grace was due the following day. Mia had been excited about becoming an auntie—that’s what Grace had insisted she be called even though she wasn’t Grace’s sister. But for the first time since she found out Grace was pregnant, she felt a sweep of envy. Grace had it all—a husband who adored her, a baby on the way, even a ready-made babysitter in Jodi, Ash’s daughter.
How had it happened? How had Mia got to thirty without finding the man she was supposed to be with for the rest of her life? She wasn’t sure she’d believed in soul mates in the past, but she couldn’t help thinking that maybe there was one man out there for her, and she’d missed him. They’d passed each other in the street, and she’d been looking one way and he’d looked the other, and that was it, their chance had gone.
Or maybe it was her—maybe she had some fatal flaw that prevented her from being happy. She’d had plenty of chances at it, she had to face it—lots of boyfriends, most of whom had been decent men who would have made great husbands and fathers. And yet for some reason she’d not settled for any of them, always finding fault, having this strange, impractical feeling that they weren’t The One. And because she was so picky, she’d ended up alone. Maybe she’d never get married, never have children. What was the
word? Spinster. An ugly, damning word. It made her think of wrinkled stockings, false teeth and that strange smell that old women often had.
She bit her lip. She wasn’t going to cry! What the hell was wrong with her? She was only thirty, not fifty. There was plenty of time to find herself a partner. Once Colm went back, she’d start dating again, and this time she wouldn’t be so particular.
And then Colm came out of the bedroom. He wore a snug navy T-shirt. He’d brushed his hair, although it still looked like he’d just got out of bed. He looked younger in jeans than he did in his school clothes, and more delicious. Her heart missed a beat in a way it had rarely done with any of her previous boyfriends. She had to face facts. She’d fallen for him, big time. And he wasn’t going to be easy to get over.
“Ready?” he said, and smiled.
“Yes.” She grabbed her shoes and coat, biting her lip hard so the tears didn’t fall. She just had to make the most of the time she had with him, that was all.
They breakfasted in a lovely café and had eggs Benedict and lattes while the rain continued to patter against the window. Colm seemed back to normal and held her hand while they waited for their meal to arrive, got up and ordered her another coffee when she wanted one, fetched her the salt, told her she was beautiful, and kissed her in full view of the waitress, who grinned when he knocked over the salt grinder as he did so.
Mia continued to try hard not to cry.
Afterward, they went to his car, and Mia directed him north out of the city toward Old Karori Road. Before long, the city streets began to melt away, turning to the longer, more winding tree-lined roads heading toward the country. Her nerves got worse the nearer they got. She had to be wrong. Please let me have made a mistake, she begged anyone who might be listening.
She suggested he park at the top of the road, and he pulled over in front of a childcare centre.
“I don’t think he’s here,” Colm joked. “He’d be a bit young to be my dad.”
She smiled nervously, and they linked hands as they began to walk down the hill. Ahead of her she could see a side road leading to the left, and the red-brick building on the corner. Her heart pounded.
Talking Sense: Sensual Healing, Book 3 Page 15