by Duggan, C. J
“See who? I don’t see anyone, do you, Bell?”
“Not a soul,” she said, her knowing eyes shifting between the two of us. “Well, goodnight.”
“Night,” Chris and I said at the exact same time, not without seeing the subtle wink that Stan threw Chris.
We watched them bundle the luggage into the elevator on their mission. I thought maybe I would feel the sag of relief hit me once the doors had closed and the elevator whirred into life. But I didn’t. Instead, I felt the weighty stare of Chris’s eyes burning into my profile. I turned, my arms still wrapped around me.
Chris leaned casually against the doorjamb, leaving a damp mark on the wallpaper. His hair was all shaggy and dishevelled and oh-so sexy.
“Are you cold?” he asked, his eyes roaming in speculation over my self-embracing arms.
“No,” I said quickly.
Chris nodded, as if accepting my answer without too much thought. He pushed off from the doorjamb, uncrossed his arms and plunged his hands into his pockets.
“Okay, well, goodnight,” he said, starting for the hall.
Seriously? Goodnight?
No “Happy New Year”, no New Year kiss … Nothing? I didn’t get a chance to let the disappointment override me.
I was too busy being fucking pissed off. I knew he hadn’t promised me anything, that there was no admission of undying love. But seriously? The knee touching, the hand holding, the slow dancing, the moment we were going to kiss on the terrace? Was I just a boredom killer to him? Was I just a way to pass the time?
No, I wasn’t upset; no tears were going to fall from these eyes. I was far too busy glaring incredulously at his back. Chris sauntered a few steps up the hall before he paused and turned back around. I altered my gaze – I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking I cared one way or another if he stayed or walked off the edge of a balcony.
His eyes met mine, a line of amusement curving the corner of his mouth.
“You know, this is the part where you stop me, and ask me to stay.”
My mouth gaped, my hands falling to my sides. “And why on earth would I do that?”
Chris shrugged, a casual, one-shouldered shrug like he always did. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said as he slowly stalked his way back in my direction, trailing his hand along the hall wall. “That’s a hell of a big apartment for just one person.”
Chris’s words suddenly dawned on me. No Ellie, no Toby and no Tess … Just me.
I lifted my chin. “Well, I asked you to stay before.”
Chris’s brows lowered in confusion. “What? When you asked me to move Ellie?”
I nodded.
Chris was right in front of me now, so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face.
“It wouldn’t have worked,” he said, his voice low.
“Why?”
“Because if I’m going to stay,” he said, trailing his finger lightly over my collarbone. “I can’t promise that I can keep you quiet.” His eyes lifted to mine: dark, smouldering and full of promise. Heat flooded my cheeks as his words hung heavy between us.
My chest heaved as I fought to control my breath, the breath he robbed from me by one look, one touch, one hotter-than-hell insinuation. His eyes dipped lower, roaming over my translucent dress, the wet white clothing I had all but forgotten to shield. What’s more, with the way Chris looked at me, the way his eyes burned for me … I really didn’t want to. Let him look, let him see, because, as far as I was concerned, tonight I belonged to him.
Chapter Sixty-Two
The apartment door slammed.
A second later, Chris’s back thudded against it so fiercely I swear I heard the air escape from his lungs.
Payback, I thought, as I claimed his mouth, working to frantically peel the wet black suit jacket off his shoulders. There was nothing nice or sensual about the way we kissed, the way we clawed at one another’s clothing. I worked on pulling and stretching his tie apart as his fingers dug into my hips, skimming over the sheer fabric of what he murmured into my mouth as an “infuriating skirt”. I smiled against his lips, revelling in his torture.
Chris edged me backward until I thudded against the opposite door.
“If you tell me you don’t have a condom, I swear …” I breathed, before kissing him deeply. He broke the kiss. “If I didn’t I would drive straight to Evoka and climb a fucking tree if I had to.”
My heart leapt: the way he kissed me so passionately, the way his breath caught when I ran my mouth down his jaw line.
My fingers clawed a slow, taunting trail up over his muscular stomach. He flinched away.
I giggled. “You are ticklish.”
Chris grabbed me by the wrists and pinned them above my head.
“Best get you out of these wet clothes, Miss Maskala.” He nuzzled the words into my neck, causing me to squirm at my own sensitive skin.
He let go of my hands so he could reach for the handle that led into the bathroom. Edging into the space, he flicked the light on, exposing us and snapping me completely out of my sexy mood.
I clasped my arms around my top again.
“What’s wrong?” Chris asked.
“What?” I said nervously. “Nothing, I …”
Chris paused. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”
I tilted my head incredulously. Even I could take a guess that under the harsh bathroom lighting with chlorine-filled hair I looked like a drowned rat. Unlike Chris with his crazy-cool, casual, messed hair and white dress shirt and black slacks that fitted him to perfection.
He moved toward me.
I drew my arms tighter around myself.
He leaned past me and turned the shower on. My eyes widened in surprise and he smiled.
“This will be our third shower together,” he mused.
It was an interesting thought; I hadn’t even showered once with my ex-boyfriend, and in the space of four days I’d had three showers with Chris?
A hazy steam slowly rose, misting the air. He never took his eyes from me as he undid his cufflinks, first one sleeve, then the other. How could something so simple be so damn sexy?
He then worked down in a slow, confident line, undoing his shirt buttons, until I stopped him.
His face was stony; he probably suspected I had changed my mind. Instead, I took over. One by one, I popped the buttons free with trembling fingers, before finally peeling the fabric apart and pushing it back over his shoulders. It was like unwrapping a present: a beautiful, tanned, flawless present – the one I had been waiting so long for and now had the chance to play with. I smiled at my analogy. My hands lowered to work Chris’s belt buckle, but this time his hands stopped me. Instead, his fingers gathered at the base of my midriff top and he slowly peeled it upwards, exposing me so completely to his heat-filled eyes. He pulled it up and over my head and let it fall to the floor. I shut my eyes as his hands trailed a maddening path over my stomach, upwards to cup my breasts as he stole a heated kiss. He slowly led my hands down to his belt buckle again.
He broke away from my mouth. Nuzzling and pressing his lips to my temple, he whispered, “It’s going to be so good.”
I never doubted it for a second, and all of a sudden I also found my skirt infuriating and it simply had to go as soon as I edged his own infuriating pants down. I only got as far as unzipping his slacks before Chris had his own ideas of bunching and gathering my skirt far enough to slide up my thighs, lifting the barrier between us. He edged me towards the vanity and, without hesitation, propped me on top of it, sweeping off a line of toiletry products that clattered to the tiled floor. A thrill shot through me just like it had when he had lifted me onto the bonnet of the car, and just like he had that night, Chris worked on hooking my knickers around his fingers and edging them over my thighs and down my legs with expert ease.
“You’re very good at that,” I mused.
“I’m good at lots of things,” he said, curving his fingers around the backs of
my knees and pulling me closer to him. His words whispered against my mouth as his hand made a slow burning trail along my skin, sliding over my inner thigh and dipping between my legs. Chris was there to catch my gasp as he kissed me and showed me how good he was, how utterly mind-bendingly good he was and how wickedly wonderful and clever his hands were as he pushed me to the edge of madness. My cry rang out and echoed against the tiled room, the steam dampening our skin as I tried my best to keep from falling off the vanity in my boneless, sated state. It took a hot, chaste kiss to bring me back around as I met the smug glint in his eyes.
“Ready to wash your sins away?”
***
My body ached.
Don’t get me wrong, it ached in the most delicious way. Lying entwined in 1000 count thread sheets on a queen-sized, feather-top mattress. Having sinned, as Chris called it, in every spot in the hotel room possible, we went to the imaginative lengths that a giant apartment to ourselves could offer. It was the perfect ending to a perfect New Year’s Eve.
Ellie wasn’t a home wrecker.
Toby loved Tess beyond imagination.
Sean had successfully pulled off a New Year’s Eve bash that would go down in the history books. And Chris: well, Chris took me to places and pushed me beyond anything I could ever imagine possible.
I stretched, wincing against my aching body, but absolutely sated in other ways where my muscles were so relaxed I felt like I had woken from a hundred-year sleep. I thought about rolling over, thinking I would find an empty space, maybe a note saying ‘Thanks’. Maybe I would hear a million excuses and be given the whole, ‘Uh, yeah, I’m not looking for a girlfriend right now’ speech. Or worse, palpable awkwardness followed by ‘It was a mistake and must never happen again.’
Who’d ever have thought that rolling over could be so terrifying?
As I slowly, tentatively rolled over, blinking against the sunlight, something took me by surprise.
Chris was sitting up in bed, reading a newspaper. I lay on my stomach, looking up at him, transfixed by the familiar crease between his brows as he concentrated. So deep was his concentration that I doubted he even realised I was awake.
And then he cleared his throat.
“Man injured in Point Shank prank … Music Festival reaches record numbers … Coastal earthquake as woman endures multiple orgasms?”
“Oh, stop it!” I sat bolt upright, pulling the paper out of his hands, my cheeks flaming.
“That’s not what you said last night.” Chris smiled, broad and cheeky as he folded his hands behind his head.
All I could manage was an incredulous shake of my head. “You’re unbelievable.”
Chris winked. “You know it.”
I scoffed and reached out to whack him across the arm, but he was too fast. He grabbed my wrist and then the other. I squirmed and squealed as he wrestled me to the mattress, overpowering me with his strength. The hard lines of his heated bare skin pressed up against me.
My breath quickened as Chris stared down at me, his own chest rising and falling heavily.
Relief flooded me as I looked into his eyes; they were the same eyes, looking at me the same way they always had. Chris was not a mystery anymore.
“You forgot to remind me.”
Chris’s words snapped me from my daydream.
“Last night when you were at the table, you asked me ‘What?’, and I said I would tell you later.”
I vaguely remembered. “Well, I’m reminding you now.”
Chris loosened his grip, his body visibly melting against mine.
“But, if it’s to tell me you thought I looked nice …” I warned.
Chris laughed. “No, nice wasn’t the word that popped into my mind.”
“Good.” I nodded.
All humour disappeared from Chris’s face as his eyes ticked over mine.
“When you walked into the room I was terrified.”
Terrified? Um, okay … Bring back nice.
“I was terrified because seeing you across the room cemented everything I was afraid to admit. I connected the moment I started falling for you and when you came and sat beside me I knew. I remembered. I loved you from the moment I pulled you into my wardrobe, even more so when I accidentally kneed you in the face at the Bake House, and I was well and truly gone by the time you mocked my black panel van.” He smiled.
I felt the pressure inside my chest, my heart wanting to leap out to give all of myself to him. My eyes fixed on Chris as he gently traced a line with his finger along my bottom lip.
“So if you don’t mind, I want to take you home.” He slid his hand under the sheet across my stomach. “There’ll be a few stops along the way …” His fingers dug into my hip, before sliding upwards.
I arched against him. “What did you have in mind?” I breathed.
“I want to finish what we started in the ocean, eat seafood at The Love Shack, run a tab in Sean’s name at Villa Co-Co.”
I burst out laughing. “Sounds divine.”
“And then last, but not least …” Chris smiled wickedly. “We’d better find Toby’s shoes.”
Epilogue
I found one shoe.
And there was no condom inside it. Aside from the very important, yet unsuccessful, task of Converse recovery, we took our time travelling back to Onslow, winding our way through the terrain we had already explored. It seemed to take less time to return; admittedly, we did find better ways to occupy ourselves. We had kept a pretty tight line travelling with the others home, except for our secret place with the ocean pool – that was our place – and as planned we left a day early from Point Shank to experience it in the way it was intended.
It wasn’t until I was on my lone shoe hunt camped up at Evoka Springs for the night that it actually occurred to me that I hadn’t suffered from a migraine since way before Calhoon on day one. I walked down the track, swinging the single navy Converse around, smiling at the realisation. I can’t say that I was miraculously cured, but I certainly felt different; I hadn’t even had the need to remind myself to be positive.
I just was.
After disposing of the evidence of Toby’s shoe in the back of the van, I wound my way back down toward the main campsite. Bell, Amy and the boys had gone fishing for a few hours so I decided to join Ellie, Tess, Ringer and Adam sitting in shade at the folded-out camping table.
“I can’t believe we are going back to Villa Co-Co,” Ellie said, wrinkling her nose in disdain as she feasted on a bag of Burger Rings.
“Oh, come on,” said Ringer, stealing a ring from her packet. “You saw the sign, it’s Ladies’ Night.” Ringer raised his brows as if we should have been ecstatic.
Ellie turned, narrowing her gaze. “Now tell the truth, Adam, tell us the real reason you want to go there.”
Adam straightened in his seat. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He reached for a Burger Ring but Ellie slapped his hand away.
“Oh, nothing about a certain something it said on the sign under ‘Ladies’ Night’?” said Tess.
Adam picked an invisible hair off his shoulder. “Still no idea. You girls are crazy.”
“What’s this?” I asked sitting down next to him.
Ellie rolled her eyes. “It’s karaoke night at Villa Co-Co.”
“Wow!” I laughed.
Adam stretched his arms to the sky. “Wow indeed, ladies, wow indeed. Hope you’re prepared, that’s all I’m saying.” He stood up with a cheeky wink and the three of us staring after him.
“Ladies’ Night means cheap booze, right?” asked Ringer.
Tess sighed. “Yep!”
“Well, thank God for that.”
“Trust me,” said Ellie, “if Adam’s singing karaoke we’re going to need it.”
***
We watched with a mixture of horror and respect as a short, pierced man with a stringy goatee and cowboy hat belted out a well-tuned, passionate version of Bon Jovi’s ‘Dead or Alive’.
Stan leane
d across the table and tapped Adam on the shoulder. “Mate, I think they take their karaoke pretty seriously in Evoka.”
“As do I, Stan, old boy. As. Do. I.” Adam’s eyes scanned the room, assessing the competition.
Chris shifted uncomfortably in his seat, dreading the night more than anyone. Adam and Amy often tried to twist Chris’s arm to host a karaoke night at the Onslow, to which his consistent response was always a resounding, “I would sooner poke myself in the eye with a sharp stick.”
So it didn’t seem likely.
Tess nudged Ellie. “Remember when you and Adam entered the talent show in Year Seven?”
Ellie cut Tess a dark look, but it was too late; Adam swivelled around in his seat.
“The year was 1991,” he began. “The competition was fierce …”
Ellie cringed and slipped down in her seat, obviously wishing the ground would open up.
“We practised every night after school; Onslow High didn’t know what hit them.” Adam’s eyes looked far away as if remembering a fine moment in history.
“What did you sing?” asked Sean with interest.
“Adam …” Ellie warned. “Don’t.”
I could tell Adam danced on the edge, you could see it in his eyes as he looked at Ellie, battling between loyalty to her and his utter desperation to tell a good story.
He shrugged. “I’m afraid I cannot say.”
By now, everyone had edged forward on their seats, leaning elbows on the tabletop, waiting to hear what had been so mortifying about a Year Seven talent show. We all sagged in disappointment.
Ellie sighed and mouthed “Thank you” to Adam. He took his beer in hand and gave her a casual wink mid-sip.
Our attention focused back onto the stage as the residential Madame of Villa Co-Co stood front and centre. She wore a lime green kaftan with matching acrylic nails and blue eye shadow. It really brought out the bleached yellow in her cropped spike hairdo. The Pineapple was in fine form tonight.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a very welcome guest that has travelled all the way from Onslow to be here with us tonight. Please put your hands together and welcome to the stage …” She looked at her card. “Aaron Henderson!”