Unstitched

by Jacquie Underdown

  I laughed and she giggled. She had the most beguiling smile. ‘Well I’m glad I caught up with you,’ I said.

  She took a sip of her coffee and peered at me over the rim of her mug. ‘You are?’

  I nodded. ‘I forgot to get your phone number after the fundraiser. I have to confess, I rang your work today to talk to you. I spoke to your boss.’

  ‘Sabine?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I grinned and lowered my eyes. ‘But she wouldn’t give me your phone number. Privacy reasons.’

  Anthea laughed. ‘So what were you after? Did I leave something in your car?’

  Elbows on the table, I leant forward and inched closer. ‘I wanted to ask you out.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, blankly staring at me.

  I frantically searched her face, to understand this reaction. She slowly smiled and the knot in my stomach loosened. ‘Would you like that?’

  She nodded. ‘I would really like that.’

  My smile grew. ‘That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.’

  But then something changed in her demeanour, almost like the other night at the function when she flung her hand to her chest. I observed her silently for a moment longer, waiting for her to feel comfortable enough to explain.

  Anthea snapped her head up. Her eyes were glossy, red. She hurriedly blinked, but the tears spilt onto her cheeks.

  Despair sank deep in my stomach as I realised I had moved too quickly. My hastiness could well have destroyed any chance I had. I opened my mouth, but said nothing. Anthea wiped at her face with the back of her sleeve, stood, and looked at the wrist watch she wasn’t wearing.

  ‘I-I remembered I have an appointment,’ she stammered, while working her arms into her jacket. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’ She paced to the counter and dropped a twenty on it. ‘Keep the change,’ she said to the waiter, not looking back at me, and she walked abruptly out the doors.

  ‘Fuck it,’ I groaned under my breath.

  ***

  Anthea

  I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to know if he was following me, because I couldn’t explain this to him. He couldn’t possibly understand my tears. Hell, I didn’t understand them myself.

  Eyes on the cracked pavement, I headed to Roslyn’s office, rain spattering on me.

  Roslyn was at the front counter of the real estate’s office. Her face crumpled when she saw mine. ‘Oh, no. What happened?’

  She pushed back her squeaking chair, walked around the counter to grab my elbow, and ushered me out the back to the small tea room.

  ‘Was it Leith? Did he do something?’ Roslyn asked as soon as she shut the door.

  I shook my head quickly.

  ‘Then what is it? Why are you upset like this?’

  ‘It happened again. I can’t believe it, but it happened again,’ I said, a long flood of words and tears.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  ‘I couldn’t feel it. Again. With Lucas.’

  ‘You saw Lucas?’

  I nodded. ‘I was just having coffee with him and I ruined it all.’

  Roslyn wiped a tear from my cheek with a tissue. ‘Honey, slow down. I don’t understand.’

  I told her about meeting Lucas. About him asking me out. About crying like a three-year-old.

  ‘For the first time in my life, I actually think I’ve met someone who’s right for me. And I’ve gone and made a fool of myself like some half-brained moron. Seriously, how deranged would I have looked, crying because he asked me out?’ My voice cracked as I tried to contain the tears.

  ‘Honey,’ said Roslyn, stroking my hair, ‘I think you’re overreacting. On all counts. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up.’

  ‘It was just like at the fundraiser. Everything felt so right. And then I made up a stupid excuse and ran out of the coffee shop.’

  ‘You ran out?’

  I nodded, squeezing my lips together and pulling at my ear. ‘I know. Like I said, I’m an idiot.’

  Roslyn grinned sympathetically. ‘He probably is going to wonder about your emotional stability.’

  I sniffled and managed a giggle. ‘Yeah. I know. Or think I’m stalker material.’

  ‘Or escaped from a mental institution,’ Roslyn said laughing.

  I sighed, my body wanting to roll in on itself. ‘I’ve blown it, haven’t I?’

  Roslyn shrugged and bit the inside of her cheek. ‘Who knows? I’ll guess we’ll have to wait and see.’

  There was a knock at the door and an old man with grey hair poked his head through. ‘There’s a young bloke out the front asking for an Anthea.’

  I pointed to my chest. ‘I’m an Anthea.’

  ‘I’d hurry, love. He looks pretty anxious.’

  Roslyn grinned. ‘So Prince Charming chased after his princess.’

  I took a deep breath as I hugged Roslyn. ‘Thanks for being an ear.’

  ‘Anytime. Now hurry up, get out there and make things right.’

  ***

  Lucas’s forehead was lined with worry, his green eyes sombre. I led him out to the sidewalk under cover from the rain before I spoke a word.

  I faced him, lifted my eyes to his, and whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

  The lines on his face smoothed and his eyes brightened. He stood taller and breathed out a long gust of air. ‘What happened? Are you okay?’

  I smiled despite the mad heat in my cheeks. ‘I’m fine. I’ve just been through a really shit time lately and I was…overwhelmed.’

  ‘So I didn’t say anything to hurt you?’

  I shook my head. ‘Definitely not. You’ve been incredibly patient. Thank you.’

  ‘I enjoy your company, when you’re not running away,’ he said with a cheeky grin. ‘But what I’d really like is to get to know you more.’

  I nodded. ‘Me, too. I mean, not get to know me more — get to know you more.’

  Lucas laughed, deep and melodious and my legs could scarcely keep me upright.

  ‘So what about tonight? Are you free?’ he asked.

  ‘Tonight? Yep, I’m as free as a bird.’

  ‘How about I meet you at your apartment reception at seven?’

  So it seemed this guy was made of sturdier stuff than I gave him credit for and willing to put up with a little bit of crazy. ‘Sounds great.’

  Chapter 8

  Anthea

  The foyer was silent, except for the clack of my heels across the glossy white tiles. Lucas was waiting on the red sofa, arms stretched over the back of the lounge. My heart stuttered when his eyes found mine. He smiled — two deep dimples and white teeth — melting away all my nerves. I tried not to let my eyes stray as he stood and walked to meet me, but he looked so sexy, dressed in black pants that clung to his toned arse and thighs, and a tight black jumper. His face was freshly shaved and hair shiny, though messy.

  When close enough that I could smell his clean soapiness and mouth-watering cologne, he leant in, and pressed his hot lips to my cheek. My eyes closed and I dared to breathe in his heat, let it caress me with rough hands. I was breathless, desperate to taste his lips and tongue. He stepped back and lassoed me with those eyes of his. I was lost, speechless.

  Christ, if this was how my body responded to a friendly peck on the cheek, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen if he kissed me for real. The thought made my centre swamp with warmth. I clenched my thighs together and cleared my throat.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ he said.

  I managed to find two words. ‘Thank you.’

  Lucas’s car was waiting on the street — an Audi TT Coupe. I hadn’t noticed when he dropped me home on Saturday night what an amazingly sleek, sexy car he drove.

  He opened the passenger side door for me and I sunk into the soft, black leather seat. He jumped in beside me and started the engine — a throaty rumble surrounding us. I bit down on my bottom lip to hide my pleasure. Was it possible to be turned on by a car? He pulled out and we sped away across the darkened streets. Hellz yeah
, I was most definitely turned on.

  We arrived at a restaurant on the outer city-fringe and were seated at a table for two. Lucas looked incredible under candlelight as he sat across from me, only a small length of table and bulbous shiny glassware between us.

  I pulled on a tendril of hair and smiled. ‘I never knew this place existed.’

  ‘I didn’t either until this morning. A friend of mine told me it’s great, though.’

  A waitress handed us menus. I ran my eyes over mine. The prices were obscene. I had to wonder if extravagance was commonplace for Lucas, or if he was trying to impress me. Though, with a car like the one parked outside, I tended towards the first.

  He poked his head up from the menu. ‘So does anything look appealing to you?’

  I grinned. Yes, you. ‘It all looks so good to me.’

  In the end, we decided on the degustation menu and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.

  Lucas leant forward across the table and smiled. ‘Thanks for coming tonight.’

  My elbows found the table and I drifted closer to him. ‘Thanks for inviting me.’

  I delved into his eyes. They were incredible — a brilliant jade colour surrounded by a ring of the palest grey. And his mouth, long and full, utterly kissable. My tongue darted over my lips, and the corners of Lucas’s mouth curled upwards. I quickly lowered my eyes and madly searched for a conversation topic or I was going to have to change my underwear and Lucas was fast going to know all about it.

  ‘You don’t strike me as someone who’s lived in Brisbane for long?’ I asked.

  He shook his head. ‘I haven’t. I only moved here from Melbourne a couple of months ago.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to put my finger on your accent.’

  He laughed. ‘It’s a mixture of many. I would’ve been surprised if you’d picked it. I was born in London. I lived there till I was ten. My mother is Brazilian, which I guess has some influence.’ That explained the cocoa skin at least. ‘My father is Chinese-American. I lived in South Africa until I was seventeen, at which point I came to Melbourne.’

  I gaped. ‘That’s quite a history. How is it that you’ve lived in so many places?’

  ‘My father’s an engineer. We travelled a lot with his work.’

  ‘And your mother?’

  ‘She sings too. She’s who taught me.’

  I couldn’t help but smile. ‘I must admit, I would love to be able to do what you do.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ve always loved music; I just wasn’t born with any sort of talent.’

  He laughed. ‘Hey, I know you’ve got artistic talent. I was at that function you put together, remember?’

  I shrugged. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So what type of music are you in to?’ he asked.

  ‘No specific genre. I like all types. It just has to be filled to the brim with emotion.’

  ‘Emotion?’

  ‘Yeah — grief, joy, arousal — I want to be able to feel it. There’s nothing better than listening to a song and getting goose bumps all over my arms, or tears in my eyes, because it has hit that special place inside of me. Not everyone can pull that off. It takes a specific something.’

  A hazy memory flickered across my mind’s screen, from the night I first met Lucas. I remembered listening to his sexy-as-hell voice and being consumed by an emotion — love. It wasn’t any type of love I’d ever known, but I knew it was the type of love — the Holy Grail — I’d been searching for. I remembered envying Lucas for having this love in his heart, enough to let it flow from his mouth. And I felt grateful to him for allowing me a glimpse of what that love felt like.

  ‘You have that ability,’ I said.

  He laughed. ‘I was starting to get a little worried for a while there.’

  ‘You definitely don’t need to worry.’

  ‘Thanks. And I agree with everything you said. Music’s the same for me. I’ve lived and breathed it since forever.’ He reached across the table and clasped my hand in his: big, strong, protective. Fingers tingled from his touch; body ached for more.

  ‘Anthea, do you mind me asking how old you are?’

  I smiled. ‘I’m twenty-three. How about you?’

  ‘I mind,’ he said, mouth in a tight line.

  I narrowed my eyes. ‘You do?’

  He laughed loudly, letting that familiar melody fondle me, then he shook his head.

  ‘I see,’ I said, giggling. ‘You’re a comedian as well as a singer.’

  ‘I try,’ he said, chest still shaking. ‘But to answer your question, I’m twenty-five.’

  ***

  Our dishes arrived, one delicious morsel after another. As we ate oysters, crab broth, squid ink pasta and Wagyu beef, I told Lucas of me — the event planner, the seeker. He spoke of himself — the musician, the wanderer. And as we tasted sweet spoonfuls of lemon curd and meringue, he said how fortunate it was that while I was endlessly seeking and he was aimlessly wandering, our paths crossed, and we could now share in each other’s stories and, perhaps, make a few new ones together.

  I felt my throat tighten when he said that. I lowered my spoon to my plate and reached for my napkin, but Lucas placed his hand on my arm, stopping me. He stood, chair scraping softly against the polished timber, and leant across the table until his face floated but centimetres from mine. He took my lips between his own, tasting the remnants of caramelised sugar. He edged back and licked his lips, while heat burned in my cheeks and the pit of my belly. His green eyes locked with mine. ‘You taste so sweet,’ he whispered.

  Oh, my. I was in danger of falling apart and I didn’t care one bit.

  Chapter 9

  Anthea

  The apartment was quiet, dark. I flicked on some lights. ‘Come on,’ I said to Lucas. ‘I’ll make us a coffee.’

  I gestured to one of the empty stools lining the bench. Lucas took a seat and I started on grinding coffee beans.

  ‘Do you live here on your own?’ Lucas asked.

  ‘No way. I’d never be able to afford an apartment like this on my own. Two girlfriends rent with me.’

  ‘You like living with them?’

  I nodded, smiling. ‘They’re my best friends.’ Small talk. Distracting small talk to avoid the roaring storm of sexual tension coating the room with lust so dense you could see it drizzling down the walls. ‘I’ve known Roslyn since grade three and Rachel since my first day of high school.’ I grabbed milk from the fridge and poured it into a metal jug. ‘We know everything there is to know about each other.’

  ‘You’re very lucky.’

  I turned to face him. ‘I know.’

  Lucas looked at me, deep into me, his full lips subtly parted and I had to remind myself how to breathe. I couldn’t turn away from him. He stood then, his enormous frame filling the space in the tiny kitchen. No words, just silence, as he walked to me with long powerful limbs. My body buzzed as I held fast to his glorious green eyes. I was combustible, and he was my fuel. I was burning hotter and hotter the closer he came.

  He took my waist and my muscles jerked under his firm touch. His eyes were screaming wicked desire. So fucking sexy, that chiselled jaw and strong nose. He pushed me back towards the bench as his face neared mine, his breath mingling with my own. Heat and his musky scent swarmed around me. I parted my lips wanting to taste his sweet-as-honey mouth, but then his bear hands gripped my hips harder and he hoisted me up, sat me on the bench. My thighs parted, he nestled between them as though that was exactly where he belonged. Steady movements, emerald eyes boring into mine, he slowly loosened my belt. One tedious button after the other, he unfastened my jacket until he could peel it from my shoulders.

  I lifted my hands, fingers tingling. I wanted to touch him so much it made me ache, a deep throb in my centre. My palms pressed against his chest, then my fingers. Hard mounds of muscle under the fabric met my touch. My God he was stacked. I heard his breath shudder, or was it mine? He broke his gaze, eyes trailing slowly downwards. His hands
roved from my hips to my thighs, sparks igniting my flesh with every inch gained.

  I could never have anticipated my body to respond so wildly — for my desire to steam from my pores, mist my skin, and paint my inner-thighs with slick longing. I curled my pelvis, pushed against him. It was impulsive, animalistic, pure instinct. He rumbled from his chest as his thick rigidity met my centre.

  Lucas cupped my cheeks with his hands and his face drifted towards mine, his lips hesitating, barely a fraction short of my own, taunting. He breathed in, shaky, then his warm breath fanned down my face, jaw, lower, until fluttering lips were against my collarbone and delicately tracing its length. My fingers strayed under his shirt to caress his strong chest and over his ripped stomach. His flesh was warm, taut. Muscles quivered, imploring me to touch him more, firmer.

  My heart was drumming double pace, my head dizzy. All rationality and self-constraint short-circuited as I fought for each breath. His soft lips edged up my neck, biting, kissing, setting my skin ablaze. Hands fell to my hips and glided upwards, over my aching breasts. My nipples, hard against my bra, throbbed under his thumbs. And still he edged higher, over my shoulders, my neck, until again he took my face between his gentle grasp and looked deep into my eyes. He parted his lips to speak, but said nothing. My God, he didn’t have to, I could hear the fervour in his gaze. Instead he sucked in a harsh breath and kissed me — gluttonous, with sighs, tongue, and heat. I moaned into his mouth…

  A piercing scream exploded through the near silence of the kitchen. My heart thudded as I jerked and threw my head backwards thumping it hard against the kitchen cabinets overhead.

  I had no idea what had just happened, until I heard Roslyn’s frantic voice. ‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry. You scared me. I didn’t know you were home yet.’

  Lucas had spun when Roslyn screamed and stood with his body protectively in front of mine. I peeked around him, my hands trembling, to find Roslyn standing in her dressing gown, face lined with distress.

  ‘Shit, Anthea, you’re bleeding,’ she cried.

  I couldn’t feel the throbbing pain before she said that. I touched the crown of my head, right where pain stung the most. It was wet, and when I looked at my shaking fingers, they were stained red. Slippery warmth slid down my cheek.