Riven

by Lissa Del

  “Well, I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Ingrid says, knowing when to make herself scarce.

  The food is superb, and I polish off the lot. In keeping with the health hydro theme, dessert is an ample serving of strawberries in a balsamic glaze and dipped in dark chocolate. I pop the last one into my mouth and heave a sigh, leaning back in my chair.

  “That,” I announce, “was heaven.”

  Leo pours the last of the wine into my glass, much to the chagrin of the hovering waiter. I’ve lost track of how many bottles we’ve had between us.

  “Dinner on the one-to-ten scale?” Leo asks.

  “Eleven, at least.”

  This brings a smug smile to his face. “Well, it’s nice to know I outperform the food.”

  “You outperform most things.” I take a deep sip of the wine, draining my glass.

  “Would you like me to order another bottle?”

  “No,” I gaze at him through lowered lashes. “I’m stuffed. I think we should burn off some of these calories.”

  CHAPTER 16

  I wake to the incessant ringing of my phone. Throwing off the eiderdown covers I sit bolt upright in the bed, rousing Leo who leaps to his feet with a yell of surprise.

  “What?” he gazes around, bleary-eyed and I take the opportunity to admire the view of his stark-naked body. I know from practically living with him for the past month that he visits the gym at least three times a week, but I suspect that’s simply for fitness. Leo has that lithe, muscular build that is simply the product of winning the genetic lottery. “What is that?” Leo squints around, trying to locate the source of the ringing. I suspect we may both still be a little drunk on wine and sex. I seize my purse, upending its contents over the rumpled bedcovers and snatch up my phone. I stab at the call button.

  “Hello?” The ringing continues and we both turn to glare at the telephone beside the bed. A blinking red light confirms that the call is coming from there.

  Leo’s eyes widen. “What’s the time?” he hisses, clambering over the bed and scooping up the handset.

  “We’re not late yet!” I reply, glancing at the digital clock on my phone.

  “Hello,” Leo says, in the tone that people use when they’re trying to pretend they’ve been up for hours. I stuff a pillow over my mouth to stifle a laugh. Leo winks at me and listens intently for a moment. “Thank you,” he says simply, replacing the handset. “That was our wake-up call,” he tells me, pulling the pillow from my mouth so that he can kiss me good morning, “courtesy of the ever-efficient Ingrid.”

  “Breakfast?” I suggest brightly.

  “I love how excited you get at the thought of food.”

  “I burned a lot of calories last night, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Sarah, how could I ever forget?” he trails his hand down my leg. “The image of these thighs wrapped around my neck is one I will treasure forever. In fact, I’m thinking of getting it tattooed on my forehead.”

  “It wouldn’t go well with that scar,” I tease, swatting him with the pillow. I hop off the bed, exposing my naked bottom to his hungry gaze. I’ve never felt selfconscious about my body in front of Leo, not since the first night we were together when we made out in front of the mirror. He likes to watch me and is utterly uninhibited in the bedroom which makes it less awkward for me. In fact, it does just the opposite – it turns me on.

  I take a lightning shower, reluctantly washing the scent and feel of him from my skin and then I change into a pair of black leggings and a vest. Mindful of Ingrid’s instructions, I slap on just a touch of moisturiser, leaving my clean face bare. My hair is still dripping so I rub at it vigorously with the fluffy white towel provided and comb it through while Leo takes his turn in the shower, then we head down to the manor house.

  The morning goes by in a blur. I manage to wolf down my breakfast and two cups of coffee before the pampering begins in earnest and by the time we finish lunch, I feel as though all the stress of the past few weeks have been massaged out of me. Until our final treatment, that is. I don’t know whether to laugh or die of mortification as a pair of therapists paint Leo and I in a thick mud-like substance which they purport will not only smooth my skin and detoxify my body, but will also cleanse my respiratory system. I refrain from asking how, unless they plan on pouring it down my throat to coat my lungs. Leo and I are dressed in disposable underwear bottoms, which cover very little, and are naked from the waist up, which is fine for him. Lying on the freshly plastic-draped therapy bed, I glance down to find my breasts slathered in mud, so that there is no differentiation between nipple and flesh, while the therapist checks intently for any spots she may have missed.

  Leo, of course, takes the whole experience with a pinch of salt, and, on completion, looks like an Adonis. Painting done, the therapists, whose names I can’t remember, wrap us up in clear plastic and discreetly leave the room, dimming the light as they go.

  “Oh God,” I groan, opening my eyes to look at Leo. My neck itches where the mud is drying, but when I try to lift my hand to scratch it I find it pinned to my side. “I feel like a mummy.”

  “That was pretty weird,” Leo agrees, chuckling.

  “I’m itchy.”

  “Don’t think about it.”

  “How long do we have to lie here?”

  “They said forty-five minutes.”

  “I’m going to die.”

  His chest shakes with silent laughter and I start to giggle until I can’t stop.

  “Never ever did I imagine I would be spending the weekend coated in mud and wrapped in plastic.”

  “What can I say, I aim to please.”

  I close my eyes and allow my mind to wander, trying not to think about the fact that now my ass is itching. The music playing through the room is haunting and soft, and slowly, I drift off, lost in that delicious place halfway between dream and reality. Before I know it, the therapists are back. They drape our gowns around us and carefully slip our feet into pairs of disposable rubber slops before we shuffle across the room and out into a small hall. The Rasul is basically a cosy steam-room and, at the touch of a button, a gentle mist of warm water sprays down from the domed ceiling. My therapist turns to us with a smile.

  “Please feel free to come out whenever you are ready.” We shuffle inside and she closes the door behind us.

  I turn to Leo and burst out laughing. “Get me out of this, please?”

  Leo, frees his hands easily, pulling the plastic down to his feet in one swift motion. He looks surreal, a bronze sculpture – naked and yet fully covered. Even the underwear is stained the same brown as the rest of him, but he tears it off in one swift motion, exposing a triangular portion of unpainted skin. He steps out of the plastic coiled at his feet and kicks it aside before coming to stand beside me under the centre of the dome. The mist-like spray has already settled on his hair, leaving crystal droplets of dew on his golden mane. Gently, he unravels the plastic wrap from my body, bunching it in his hands until finally I feel the blessed relief of the last stretch pull away from my skin. Leo has the mud-like substance on his hands as he lifts his thumb to my cheek, stroking my jawline. It smells nothing like mud – rather a delicious combination of rain and herbs. I shut my eyes and lift my head, letting the drizzle wash over my face. Leo’s lips brush mine, once, twice, and then I open my mouth to allow him access. We kiss for what feels like forever, a gentle, heady sensation while the gentle hiss of the Rasul resonates around us. It is warm in this room, and even warmer when he takes me in his arms and pulls me against him. I rest my head in the hollow of his chest as his hands move gently over my shoulders, trailing heat down my back.

  Infinitely slowly, his hands wash the mud from my body and I return the favour, massaging, teasing, touching. Leo gets onto his knees to lather down my legs and my knees tremble at his breath on my thighs. I wonder idly how many couples have made love in this room. My pulse quickens at the thought of making love to Leo right here, right now, but he makes no move other than
the relentless touch of his hands and lips caressing every inch of my body until it is full to bursting with love and longing.

  We emerge from the Rasul ensconced in our robes, eyes sparkling and holding hands. The therapists are nowhere to be seen, no doubt ordered to stay away and allow couples their privacy. Somehow, I feel even closer to Leo after this experience. It was almost better than sex - more intimate, somehow. The connection was less physical, but deeper, more meaningful, and I stroke the ball of his thumb as we walk, not wanting to break the connection.

  We fall asleep almost instantly when we return to our cottage, my back pressed up against Leo’s chest, his hand resting on my heart. The feel of his bare skin up against me lulls me to sleep with a light heart and a rested soul.

  CHAPTER 17

  “I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I grumble, sticking my foot right through a brand new pair of black pantyhose.

  “Who am I to stand in your way?” Leo teases, his blue eyes dancing with ill-concealed mirth.

  “Sarah, you’re doing us all a favour,” Dylan chips in, clapping Leo on the back. “Mike is the only guy in the entire office who couldn’t find a date. He’d be the laughing stock of the entire firm.”

  “You’re rendering a great service, Sarah,” Leo adds solemnly, and then he and Dylan fall about laughing.

  “You both suck!” I snap, tearing the pantyhose off and hurling the offending item at them. “And I swear, Dylan, if Mike so much as lays a hand on my leg I’ll…”

  “Woah!” Leo raises his hands, “if Mike lays a hand on your leg, I’ll be dealing with him myself.”

  “Don’t worry, Leo, I’ll keep my eye on her,” Dylan vows. “But I doubt she’ll need me to. I’m pretty sure Mike bats for our team.”

  “Then why didn’t you ask Tom to go with him?” I ask, slipping on a pair of black heels and smoothing down the front of my dress.

  “Mike’s in denial. Now shake your ass, we’re picking him up in fifteen minutes.”

  “Who are you taking?” Leo asks.

  “Lucy,” Dylan rolls the name around his tongue, “but I’m meeting her there.”

  “You’re not picking her up?” Leo’s sense of propriety is obviously appalled.

  “She’s the secretary,” I point out.

  Leo processes this for about half a second and then he claps Dylan on the back.

  “Good man!”

  I roll my eyes at both of them.

  “Right, I’m going to grab a jacket,” Dylan announces, checking his watch. “I’ll meet you in the hall?”

  “Fine,” I grumble.

  The second Dylan is gone Leo pulls me to him, nuzzling my neck and breathing in the faint trace of Chanel behind my ear.

  “You look beautiful,” he murmurs, “and you’re doing a really nice thing here.”

  “Don’t try and butter me up,” I say. “You are so not getting any later.” My playful smile belies the threat and Leo runs a long finger down my bare arm.

  “We’ll see.” His eyes hold a sensual promise and we both know that he will absolutely be getting some later.

  “Sarah!” Dylan sticks his blond head around the front door.

  “I’m coming!” I snatch up my purse and blow Leo a kiss as I follow Dylan outside.

  To his credit, Mike has made a concerted effort with his appearance this evening. His suit is clean, at least; no ketchup stains in sight and he’s attempted to comb his thatch-like hair.

  “Thanks for doing this Sarah,” he says as he gets into the car and his appreciation is so genuine that I immediately feel guilty for all my griping.

  “It’s my pleasure!” I say brightly, “I’m sure it’s going to be fun!”

  Dylan gives me an arch look in the rear-view mirror but I ignore him.

  “I feel like a chauffeur,” he grumbles.

  “Lucy’s meeting you there?” Mike asks and I detect a trace of disappointment in his voice.

  “Yeah,” Dylan grins wickedly at us over his shoulder, “that way if things don’t work out I’m not obligated to take her home.”

  “You are so full of shit,” I say, and Mike’s cheeks flush with pleasure.

  “You do know your friend Mike has a thumping crush on that twig you call a date, don’t you?” I ask Dylan when I manage to corner him at the food table two hours later. Dylan raises his handsome head to peer at Mike who is offering to buy Lucy a drink at the free bar.

  “No he doesn’t.”

  “He does,” I insist. “And it’s breaking his poor heart to watch her fawning all over you like a cat on heat.”

  Dylan casts an appraising eye over Lucy who is bursting out of her hot pink dress.

  “That’s actually a good analogy,” he laughs, “she looks like she’d be a tiger in the sack.”

  “Dylan!”

  He does a double-take.

  “God you sound like mom!”

  “Mike is your friend.”

  “Yeah, but…” the sight of my raised eyebrow shuts him up. “Aw, come on, Sarah! It’s not like Luce is going to look twice at Mike, even if I do turn her down.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Fine,” he grouches, tossing a half-eaten vol-au-vent back onto the table.

  “That’s a good boy,” I tease, patting him on the head and flattening his deliberately mussed hair.

  For the remainder of the evening Dylan studiously avoids Lucy, sulking all the while. I grin every time his wounded eyes find mine and give him an exaggerated thumbs-up. To my surprise, I’m enjoying myself far more than I thought I would. With Dylan out of the way, Mike is following Lucy around like a puppy dog, which leaves me free to wander about. Pulling out my phone I see a message from Leo, sent almost an hour ago. I open it and give a gasp of shocked surprise as I read the dirty text, outlining exactly what he intends to do to me when I get home.

  “Where are you going?” Dylan asks as I pass him on my way to the stairs.

  “Just getting some air,” I reply, not having to fake my breathlessness.

  I emerge on the roof, which is isolated save for a couple with their backs to me, gazing out at the view. I retreat to the far side, out of their field of vision, and lean out over the railing.

  I’ve never ‘sexted’ before, but reading the words on the screen my stomach curls itself into a delicious hot mess.

  I quickly type my response, which is only a single word.

  Wow!

  Good wow or bad wow? The reply comes through instantly.

  Definitely good wow.

  How’s your evening going?

  It just got a whole lot better.

  In that case, keep your phone on you.

  For the rest of the evening Leo sends me sporadic texts, outlining in the most intimate detail every single thing he has planned for my return. By the time Dylan finally calls it quits, I am bubbling with desire, the entire lower half of my body turned to jelly. Heart hammering, I barely hear a word Dylan says the whole drive home.

  He yawns as we reach his door.

  “Sleep tight, sis, and thanks for doing that. For Mike, I mean.”

  “No problem,” I grin stupidly at his closed door for a minute and then I rush frantically toward my own, fumbling through my purse for my key. The door opens as I reach it and I fly through it, hurling myself on Leo like a woman possessed. His response is just as enthusiastic, the hours of exquisite foreplay reducing us both to a frenzied primal desire. There will be no gentle lovemaking tonight. Instead, it is hard, fast and furious, and it still takes my breath away.

  CHAPTER 18

  I am thinking back to that wild night when I hear the front door slam. The icy chill of winter air breezes into the room, bravely taking on the heating.

  “Please tell me you got the Christmas crackers?” I call.

  “You sent me out for crackers,” Leo drawls, coming around the corner laden with two huge boxes, “what else did you think I’d come back with?” He dumps both boxes unceremoniously on
the kitchen counter.

  “Oh, I don’t know… cheese?”

  “Smart ass.” He grabs my backside and gives it a good squeeze, and the gesture reminds me so much of my parents that I can’t help but smile.

  “Your hands are freezing!” I exclaim as the cold permeates the denim of my jeans.

  “Nothing like Christmas time in New York. What time are we leaving tomorrow?”

  “Around ten. My parents like to do presents before lunch.”

  Leo and I have been dating for two-and-a-half months and since he is practically living with me, I’ve decided it’s high time that he met my parents.

  “Is Dylan driving down with us?” Leo has flopped onto the sofa, his long legs disappearing beneath the coffee table. Dylan and Leo get on far better than I expected, which is a relief, but I had to re-institute the ‘no visitation without prior warning’ rule after I found the two of them drinking beer and playing PlayStation one afternoon. It wouldn’t have been such a bad thing if I hadn’t been wearing nothing but a new Victoria Secret twin set and an overcoat, which I’d bravely tugged open the second I walked through the door. Dylan insisted that he had to wash his eyes out with soap.

  “No,” I round on him, “he’s taking his own car. Apparently he’s bringing a girl!” Much to everyone’s surprise, Mike had finally succeeded in getting Lucy to go out with him. Dylan, of course, was taking credit for master-minding the whole thing, but he hadn’t been on a date since the dinner. For Dylan, sixteen days must be a new record.

  “Marvellous.” Leo grins wickedly, “It’ll take the heat off me.”

  “My parents will adore you,” I promise, dropping onto the sofa beside him and curling into his side. His clothes still carry the chill from outside. His arm comes around my shoulders and I heave a sigh of contentment.

  “Did you finish your assignment yet?” I ask lazily. Leo had been given a mountain of work to do over the Christmas break and so far I hadn’t seen him so much as pick up a pen.

  “No,” he groans.