Just for Now: Escape to New Zealand Book Three

by Rosalind James

  He groaned, did as she asked. Kicked the discarded garments aside. She took him in her hands then, ran a palm down the length of him.

  “Sure you want this?” she asked, closing her mouth over his neck again, using her teeth as her hand continued to stroke. “Last chance to back out.”

  “Oh, God,” he moaned. “Please.”

  She smiled again as she dropped first to one knee, then the other. “Is this what you had in mind? Good enough view?”

  His only answer was to wrap his hands around her head, fingers threaded through her hair. “Trying not to shove you here,” he gritted out. “But I need this.”

  “And you’re going to get it,” she promised. Then bent her head and gave him what he wanted. Slowly, taking her time. Letting it build for him.

  Finn fought the urge to close his eyes. Because looking down at her working on him, watching her reflection in the mirror, was almost as good as what she was doing. He lost himself in the feel of her mouth, her tongue, her hands on him. The sight of her.

  He was almost too far gone when he forced himself back. This wasn’t all he wanted to do right now. While he had her in front of the mirror.

  “Jenna. Stop.” He pulled her head gently back. Almost changed his mind as she let go of him, sat back on her heels and looked up at him. Her hair disheveled, mouth soft, eyes huge. He made his decision, dropped to his knees, reached for the strap of that aubergine bra.

  “This has been working so hard,” he said, unfastening the hooks and pulling it off her. “Time to give it a rest.” He took a breast in each hand, heard the hitch in her breath as he caressed her. “Feels good, eh.” He looked into her eyes, pupils dilated with passion. “I think you got something out of that too. But you need something else now, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she told him. “Yes. Please.”

  He smiled, reached down to pull off the thong. “Let’s get this off you, then. So I can give it to you.”

  She wriggled out of the lacy strip. “Tell me what you want from me.”

  “I love it when you say that.” He bent his head to kiss her, reached down to touch her. “You’re so wet. So ready for me. Get on your hands and knees, then.”

  He moved behind her. Another perfect view, he realized. From where he knelt, and in the mirror. He looked down, froze.

  “Shit. Condom. Stay there,” he commanded. “Exactly like that.” He raced across to the bed, pulled out the nightstand drawer, grabbed the packet. Came back to her.

  “Bloody hell. You’re so gorgeous. Waiting for me, just like I asked you to.” He pushed inside slowly, felt her response. Watched as her head dropped. Looked at her hands supporting her, his hands on her hips as he moved in her.

  “Reach your hand back here,” he gasped. “Touch yourself. Because I need to feel you come while I’m doing this to you.”

  She moaned, did as he asked. He watched in the mirror as she began to caress herself. Felt the change in her, the shift at the added stimulation. She was panting now, and he could sense her spiraling up, feel her tightening around him.

  “That’s right,” he told her, his breath exploding from him. “Come on, Jenna. Give it up. Give it to me.”

  She was pushing back into him, crying out, and he was over the edge. He grabbed her harder, thrusting into her so forcefully he was moving her across the floor. He felt her going over, the contractions surrounding him, pulling at him as she sobbed out her release, and he lost control, joined her in sensation, tumbled with her into a long, powerful orgasm that seemed to draw everything from his body.

  “Aw, geez,” he gasped at last. “I’m squashing you.” He rolled to his side, pulled her against him. “All right?”

  He felt her sigh against him, a long drawn-out sound. “Yeah. Good.”

  He ran a hand over her, felt the goosebumps form. “Go get in bed. Give me a sec.” He got up, went into the bathroom to get rid of the condom. Looked at himself in the mirror. He was wrecked. Shattered.

  He came back to bed to find her nestled under the duvet. She pulled an edge back, invited him to slide in next to her.

  “Was that what you had in mind?” she asked with a little smile. “For your Unbirthday present?”

  He pulled her to him, gave her a long, slow kiss. “That was,” he promised. “It was brilliant. Absolutely the best Unbirthday present anyone’s ever given me.”

  “I’m so glad. We aim to please.”

  “And you do,” he assured her. “You do please. So bloody much.”

  “I’ve spent a fair amount of time thinking back on how you looked that first night, in those black stockings,” he went on, running his hand down her back. “But I know which picture I’m going to be taking on tour with me.”

  She froze for a long moment. “What?” She shoved herself away from him, pulled herself up to sit, the shock like a dose of ice water. “What did you say?”

  “Just now. In the mirror. What? You couldn’t tell how much I liked it?”

  “But you . . . you took a picture? Finn. You can’t take my picture, doing that.” She realized that her voice was rising, lowered it with an effort. “That’s not OK,” she hissed furiously. “You have to erase that. Where is it?”

  “What?” he asked blankly.

  “Where is it?” she demanded. “It’s not . . . it’s not a tape, is it? Oh, no. Please tell me you didn’t do that.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked. Sat up, stared across at her. “What tape?”

  “What you just said!” she snapped. She got up, grabbed her dressing gown and pulled it on, clumsy in her haste. “Give it to me.”

  “Whoa. Whoa. Hang on. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I was talking about the picture in my mind. Course I didn’t take a picture of you. Much less a tape. Bloody hell.”

  “Oh. Thank God.” She sat down on the bed again, weak with relief.

  “Hang on, though,” he realized. “I said that, and that’s the conclusion you jumped to?”

  “Men do those things. I’ve read about it. They do do that. Show them around. Put them online, even. And I need to tell you, that would kill me. I’m a private person. I couldn’t handle that.”

  “And you think I’m the kind of bastard who’d do something like that,” he said, his face settling into its hardest lines. “That I’d show your photo to my mates. Put it on the bloody Internet.”

  “Just forget it, OK?” she sighed. “I’m sorry. It was a stupid misunderstanding.”

  “Yeh, it was. I have a daughter, for God’s sake. And a bit of common decency too, I hope. Good to know what you really think of me. How much you trust me.”

  He got up himself, pulled on underwear and a T-shirt, his anger clear in his jerky movements.

  “I can’t just assume you’ll do the right thing, though!” she protested.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “I did that, remember? I found out the hard way. And I’m not doing it again.”

  “Because I’m a man?” he demanded. “That automatically makes me a dickhead? Or because I’m a football player, maybe? I’m not your bloody ex-husband. How hard is it to see that?”

  “But that’s not something I can forget,” she argued. “He lied to me. He cheated on me!”

  “Which happened to me too! And I can still judge you for who you are. Not for who Nicole was.”

  “It’s different, though,” she pleaded. “You don’t understand. I was married to someone who said he loved me, but who didn’t even care enough to tell me he was having sex with men, so I could have protected myself! He didn’t care if he killed me. The first thing I did, the first day, was to get myself tested, see if I had HIV. How do you imagine that felt?”

  “I don’t, by the way,” she said bitterly, interpreting his startled look. “I got tested twice to make sure. You’ve got nothing to worry about. And I’m sorry.” She busied herself retying the sash of her dressing gown, tried to hide the tears she couldn’t hold back anymore. “I’m sorry that I insulted
you. And that I’m . . .” she gestured helplessly. “Damaged. Whatever. Sorry.”

  She headed for the door. “Forget it. I’m going to bed now.”

  “Jenna,” he said wearily. “Hang on.”

  “No. I can’t.” She lifted a lapel to wipe her face. Remembered her discarded underwear, went to pick it up. “I need to go to bed.”

  Chapter 25

  He was gone to the gym by the time she got up the next morning, Jenna found with relief. She couldn’t imagine how she was going to face him again. It had taken her hours to get to sleep the night before, replaying the scene in her mind. How had one of the most exciting nights of her life gone so sour? And why had she jumped to that conclusion? She’d really insulted him, she realized. But she wasn’t sure how to make it better.

  She focused on the kids, glad to have something to take her mind off her confused, circling thoughts. She was leaving the showers with them after their swim lesson when she heard her phone ding with a text. Pulled it out of her bag and glanced at it. Finn.

  Can you get kids a playdate.

  She swallowed her dread, rang Siobhan.

  “I can take them now,” her friend decided. “Not later this afternoon, unfortunately. Dentist. What a way to spend the last Friday of their holidays, eh. But drop them by on your way home, and I can keep them till two or so. That suit you?”

  “Thanks,” Jenna told her with relief. Whatever it was Finn had to say, at least it’d be over with quickly.

  “Finn?” she called as she stepped into the villa half an hour later. “I’m home.”

  He came out of the lounge to meet her. “Where are the kids?”

  “Siobhan’s. Till two.”

  “Want to go for a walk with me, then? We could have lunch.”

  “Finn.” She was still holding the heavy bag with the kids’ swimming gear, she realized. Set it down on the tile floor. “If you’re going to fire me, just do it, OK? I can’t handle waiting for it.”

  “What?” He stared at her. “Why would I fire you?”

  “Because I was unreasonable, last night. I know I was. That I insulted you in the worst possible way.”

  “Jenna.” He came to her, put his hands on her shoulders. “I was planning to apologize for losing my temper. I’m not too good at that, apologizing. Took me a while to work up to it. But I thought, once I did, we could talk about it.”

  “Oh.” She swayed towards him in relief. Leaned into him as he pulled her close.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Oi,” he said softly. “Are you crying again?”

  She nodded against his chest, sniffed. Hugged him to her. “I was wrong. I’m so sorry.”

  “Reckon we were both wrong,” he sighed. “And that we should take that walk.”

  “Let me start,” she told him as they set out on the track that led to the top of the Mt. Eden Domain. “I thought about it a lot last night. And I don’t know why I jumped to the conclusion that you’d do something like that. My mind just . . . yeah, it jumped. Just like that. It was in my head, all of a sudden. And I was terrified. I did realize, afterwards, that it wasn’t the kind of thing you’d do.”

  “I thought about it too,” he said. “I’d like you to trust me. But I can see that your marriage may have shaken your faith. I’d like to think I’m not much like your ex-husband, though.”

  “Nothing like him,” she assured him. “In any sense.”

  He glanced down at her. “Well, in one sense, anyway, let’s hope. But . . . why would you assume all men are like that? Liars. Users. Why would you assume that about me?”

  “Because I’ve never known any men,” she tried to explain. “Look at me. I’ve been a Year One teacher my whole career. Not exactly a male-dominated profession. How many male primary teachers do you know?”

  “None,” he admitted.

  “That’s right. My friends are all women, have always been women. We didn’t even have many couple friends. Guess why.”

  “Your dad, though?” he asked. “What about him?”

  “No dad,” she said briefly. “Well, of course I must have had one,” she corrected herself. “But I didn’t know him.”

  “Buggered off, eh.”

  “Never there to begin with, actually. I don’t even know who he was,” she confessed.

  “Your mum never told you?” he asked, shocked.

  “My mum never knew. She said she was ‘partying’ at the time, when I asked her. So, yeah. She had boyfriends, while I was growing up. Plenty of those. But they never took much interest. Which is just as well, probably. She didn’t have great taste in men. I doubt they’d have enhanced my view of the gender any.”

  “So,” she sighed. “I’m doing my best here. But I don’t have much to work with.”

  They’d reached the top of Mt. Eden now. Stood quietly for a minute, looking out at the Harbour, the dotted green volcanoes and neighborhoods that made up Auckland, the Waitakeres rising to the west.

  “Don’t know quite what to say to all that,” he said finally. “I could say, trust me. But I’m not sure that’s going to help much.”

  “But I do!” she protested. “I do trust you. As much as I can. If I didn’t, I’d never have slept with you in the first place.”

  “Thought it was because I was so irresistible.” He smiled down at her at last.

  “That too,” she smiled back. “But also because you’re . . . who you are. A good man.”

  “OK,” he said. “And for the record. I’ve never made a sex tape. Never taken naked photos of a woman either. Always more interested in what was happening at the time.”

  “You shouldn’t even have to tell me that,” she said, ashamed.

  “But can I just say,” he went on, pulling her close, “that if I were the kind of bloke who took photos, I can think of a few I’d like to have? Starting with last night.”

  “It didn’t ruin it, then? What happened?” She rested against him, snuggling close to fend off the chill of the wind, always strongest here on the peak.

  “Nah.” She could feel the rumble in his chest as he chuckled. “It didn’t ruin it. I don’t think a nuclear blast could’ve ruined that for me.”

  “It worked pretty well for me too,” she admitted. “It’s an adventure, being with you.”

  “Is that the only set you bought, yesterday?” he asked. “Or is there anything else you have to show me?”

  “Maybe,” she teased, light with relief now that the crisis was over. “Want to see?”

  “You know I do.” He looked at his watch. “Noon. When do we have to get the kids?”

  “Two.”

  “Mind if I don’t take you out to lunch, then, after all? Would you settle for a sandwich, later?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled up at him. “Are you telling me you want me to model the other outfit? No photos, no tapes? Just you and me?”

  “Yeh.” He bent to kiss her. “You and me. You missed your run today, eh. Race you home.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” Jenna asked Natalie on Monday. They were sitting on the floor in front of Nat’s coffee table, eating a dinner that Natalie had been especially grateful for, this first day back after the holidays. Finn had taken the kids to school that morning, Sophie complaining vociferously beforehand as always about the end of the break. Fortunately, the Year One students Jenna had worked with today had been more excited about being back at school again, if a bit boisterous after two weeks off.

  “Sure.” Natalie took another bite of quinoa salad and waved her fork in Jenna’s direction. “Shoot.”

  “Well. As you know, Jeremy was gay,” Jenna began.

  “Not likely to forget that, am I. Made a bit of an impact, at the time. Is that the question?”

  “No. I’m not exactly sure how to ask this. But OK. If you’re with someone who isn’t gay. Someone straight. What’s . . . what’s normal? I mean, do you have sex all the time, think about it all the time? Or . . . or what?” Jenna ended lamely, seeing the surprised look on Na
talie’s face.

  “I can’t ask anyone else,” she said apologetically. “I’m not asking you for a report or anything. I mean, on your relationship now. Just . . . in general. It would be helpful.”

  “Doing a bit of research, are you?” Natalie asked, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Or do I take it you’ve entered the land of the living?”

  “Just tell me, OK?” Jenna asked desperately. “In general. What’s normal?”

  “Well,” Natalie said judiciously. “If you read the research, they’ll tell you, two, three times a week. For Kiwis, anyway. But that’s an average. At the beginning, yeh, you tend to do it more.”

  “More than twice a week,” Jenna said. “Every day? Or even more? Do people do it that much? And do you mind saying, do you think about it more? More than you do it?”

  “Well, yeh. More than I do it. Not like I walk around in a fog or anything, or even do it all the time, when I’ve got a partner, like now. That’s more when you’re a teenager. You remember, when it’s all you can think about. All you want to do.”

  “I don’t, actually. Remember, that is,” Jenna said gloomily. “I met Jeremy when I was nineteen. And didn’t date all that much before then. Nobody I really fancied.”

  “So what is it you’re worried about now?” Natalie asked. “That you think about it too much? Or not enough?”

  She sat upright suddenly, pointed her fork at Jenna. “Oi! Finn! That’s what this is about! I thought there was something different about you tonight. What did you get up to, while I was on holiday? Are you telling me that’s gone somewhere at last?”

  “Well, yeah,” Jenna admitted, feeling her color rise. “Yeah, it did. It has.”

  “And how is it?” Natalie asked eagerly. “Good? Worth all the agonizing I know you did first?”

  “Yeah.” Jenna smiled across at her ruefully. “Worth it. Really good. I know, I don’t have a basis for comparison. But I can’t imagine anything better.”

  “Ah.” Nat stood up to gather their plates. “And how’s your heart?”

  “Involved,” Jenna sighed. “But I think his might be too. He’s really great. Really great.”