His expression focused now rather than mortified, he stooped to push down the plug and pull up the lever on the shiny chrome tap. The room began to echo with the thunder of water. A dollop of bath foam from a tall green bottle soon added a froth of luxurious light-reflecting bubbles.
Alexia gazed at the steaming water then back at Ben. ‘Are you sure? It looks blissful.’
His hands were looped loosely into his pockets, his gaze steady. ‘Absolutely sure.’ His smile was pensive. ‘What I’m uncertain about is whether I’m staying. It’s been so long that you’re going to have to give me a sign. One that’s not too subtle.’
She breathed in the sharp smell of the lime bath foam in the steam that was rising to prickle her skin. Or perhaps the tingling was actually the excitement of being wanted, of being fixed in the tractor beam of his gaze. She had to lick her lips before she could speak. ‘Your bath’s big enough for two. Is that clear enough?’
His smile flashed. ‘Even for me.’ He hesitated no more, lifting his hands to rest lightly on her shoulders before dipping his head to taste her lips. Then he touched her body slowly, as if learning a new land.
Heart pounding with every new caress, she let him undress her before she reached for him, unfastening the dusty denim of his jeans, releasing him. Enjoying his shudder as she caught him in her hand, savouring the brush of his body hair, the heat of his skin.
Somewhere along the line he’d paused to turn off the tap. Now he tested the water then lifted her, stepping over the bath side, sinking down into the delicious bubbly warmth until the foam threatened to overflow.
Their bodies slipped and slid familiarly, as if they’d known each other for years. He cupped his hands and rinsed the dust and cobwebs from her hair, making it stream back from her forehead. Then he turned his attention to her body and soaped her from top to toe, stoking her desires until it was all she could do to concentrate on soaping him in return, learning the shape of him and what made him close his eyes and groan.
Finally, she straddled his body.
His eyes flipped open as if in sudden pain. ‘I have no condoms.’
She halted with a groan. ‘Neither do I.’
Then he surged to his feet, taking her with him, reaching for the towels. ‘Let’s take this into the bedroom. A little imagination … a lot of possibilities.’
Wrapped in towels and sketchily dried, they padded into the bedroom and he paused to put a match to the fire, crouching on the dusky red rug to feed the flames until they danced high, bathing him in flickering golden light. Alexia sank down beside him. ‘I’ve never seen an open fire in a bedroom. Are you a caveman?’
He turned his head, reaching out to flick her towel open. ‘Sounds impressive but actually I get free wood.’
Then he secured the guard around the fire and reached for her again.
Alexia didn’t know whether it was the heat from the flames or his hands and tongue that scorched her skin. Every touch just made her hotter, want harder, a wanting he took as his mission to fulfil until, finally, they made it onto his bed to sleep.
In the darkness, Ben ricocheted out of his dreams, heart bouncing against the walls of his chest.
He blinked, trying to force open his burning eyes. Nightmares. Again. Sucking in a breath he tried to remember what he’d been dreaming about. It had involved fear and pain. Imogen. Again. Panic. Again.
His clock’s illuminated figures told him it was 04.13. Night after night it was as if his body awarded him a single cycle of sleep and then slapped him mercilessly awake.
With shock, he became conscious of the naked woman curled up against him. Still half-trapped in the web of sleep, he traced the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist until his hand found her arms nestled between their bodies. He snatched his hand away.
Not Imogen.
Reality crashed back.
Alexia. Bright, vivacious Alexia with her rounded body and naughty smile.
Right on cue, the insidious voice of negativity slunk into his mind. So your head was turned by a mischievous smile. You think this is OK?
Sweat broke like a stripe of shame down his back and he eased his flesh from hers, heart still thumping. He tried to remind himself that it was just another middle-of-the-night anxiety attack; that the bombardment of worry, guilt, regret and pain would ease.
But the voice wouldn’t leave him alone.
You’ve got it easy compared to Imogen and Lloyd. And now you’re in bed with a naked stranger. Can you imagine Imogen’s pain if she saw you now?
We’re getting a divorce.
So you pick up a local girl for a one-night stand?
Alexia’s leaving the village soon—
But not right away. She’s going to expect things from you. Calls, texts, dates. You seriously think you can do that? YOU? The fuck-up who lives like a hermit?
The choking fingers of panic closed around his throat. The slaking of his desire had transported him briefly out of the bleak place he’d inhabited. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so bad if he hadn’t enjoyed it so much but her smile had made him feel better, more worthwhile, and her enthusiasms had poured into the air like a rainbow on a grey day. Desperate not to wake her and have to rationalise these warring emotions he eased backwards until he could scoot out from under the covers.
Yes, go. That’s how you cope, isn’t it? By being alone.
Alexia stirred, muttering in her sleep. He groped for escape across the little landing and down the stairs.
In the kitchen, breathing came easier. He pulled clean clothes from the tumble dryer and fumbled into them, heart beating too loudly for him to hear whether Barney rustled in his tub. Grabbing the rechargeable torch from its holster on the kitchen wall he cast around for his boots.
Then he crept out of the front door, refusing to look at that sheet of paper headed Decree nisi on the table by the door, lying as it had landed when he’d flung it from him this morning.
The period between nisi and absolute exists for a reason. It’s for last efforts, second thoughts. For now, Imogen is still your wife.
He stumbled through the door and out of the clearing, the torchlight lighting the path unevenly, the same path he’d trodden along with Alexia a few hours ago; a woman he’d wanted. A woman who’d excited him.
For two years his libido had been sulking, but last night Alexia had unleashed it and it had flown out, fizzing and spinning.
But the memories of all the mornings he’d woken wrapped around Imogen’s body swept in.
You’ve been unfaithful.
It can’t count. We’re nearly divorced and …
And your heart and your guts are telling you that you’ve been unfaithful.
Like one of the animals that wandered the night Ben trudged around the path edging the lake, where the water lapped and the breeze stirred the leaves.
The negativity always won in the dark hours.
He should have remembered that before he invited Alexia to share his night.
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About the Author
Best-selling author Sue Moorcroft writes contemporary fiction with occasionally unexpected themes and her last book,The Christmas Promise, rose to #1 in the Amazon Kindle chart. She’s won a Best Romantic Read Award, the Katie Fforde Bursary, and received several other nominations including for a ‘RoNA’ (Romantic Novel Award). Sue also writes short stories, s
erials, articles and writing ‘how to’.
The daughter of two soldiers, Sue was born in Germany and went on to spend much of childhood in Malta and Cyprus. She now lives in the UK. She likes reading, Zumba, FitStep, yoga, long chatty meals with friends (preferably involving wine and chocolate), and is a Formula 1 addict.
Find out more about Sue by visiting www.suemoorcroft.com or follow her on Twitter @SueMoorcroft or Facebookcom/SueMoorcroftAuthor. She loves to hear from readers.
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