by Anthology
Connor caught my bottom lip between his teeth. "Smart arse."
Wanting him again, I grabbed his hips and pushed up.
He groaned and silenced me with his mouth and his hands. All thoughts of holiday cottages and big beds were forgotten while we did a great job of putting my tired old mattress to good use.
* * * *
"Weather's not too great, is it?" Connor steered the car around a sharp bend. The tires sent spray onto the verge and into the hedgerow.
I peered through the windscreen, through the endless rain. "Does it matter?"
He smiled and put his hand on my knee. "No, it doesn't. Do you see a turn-off anywhere?"
"There's a gap in the hedge just up there."
Connor eased down onto the brake pedal. "Yep, this is it. Holly Cottage, right?"
I glanced at the neatly typed directions sent by the owner. "Yes, that's it."
"Thank Christ for that." He shifted down and turned on to a narrow track. The low-slung sports car didn't care much for the potholes and I gripped the edge of the seat as the car bounced along the long ribbon of gravel, heading slowly downhill. The sea was a darker grey sweep beneath the leaden backdrop of sky. The blurb on the website had promised sea views but it was the photograph of the master bedroom that caught my eye and made me email the link to Connor.
The master bedroom at Holly Cottage enjoys sea views. Watch the sun set from the comfort of the king-size four poster bed. Enjoy your morning tea whilst sitting on the deck and watching the waves crash onto the beach below.
The photograph showed a massive bed angled to face a large window, beyond which the sea reflected a cloudless blue sky. The room just begged to be lived in, if only for five days.
"Here we are." Connor pulled up in front of the long, low, white cottage and switched off the engine. Rain filled the sudden silence and wind rocked the car.
"It does have central heating, right?" Connor opened the car door.
"There's a fireplace in the bedroom."
He grinned. "Even more of an excuse not to get out of bed."
We hurried toward the porch. Connor found the key under the mat and opened the door. "There's heating," he announced as he stepped into the foyer. "The owners must've turned it on for us."
The blast of warmth hit me when I followed Connor into the sitting room. He took my hand and we trailed through, stopping to admire the view of the murky, storm-tossed sea from the French windows.
"The sea looks a bit rough." He slipped his arm around my waist. "A good day for staying inside and looking at it."
"Yes, it is." I leaned against him. A handful of short, snatched weekends were all we'd had. I hated to think beyond the week.
"This isn't exactly a typical holiday cottage, is it?" Taking me with him, Connor resumed his explorations. "I always think of thatched roofs and beams. This place certainly isn't that."
"That's another reason I picked it. It's different. Modern."
"No beams to bump our heads on. I hate that. I'm liking this place. Very much."
We found the kitchen, a vast space of slate floors and stone countertops. Connor trailed his fingers along the edge of the stainless steel stove. "Oh, I'm going to have some fun cooking on this." He grabbed my hand once more. "Come on, let's find that bedroom."
The bedroom was at the end of the hall. Connor opened the door and stood on the threshold. He threaded his fingers through mine. "Bloody hell. It's even better than advertised."
"Christ, yes." I sat on the edge of the vast bed and tested the mattress. It had a nice bounce to it.
"Does it meet with your approval?"
"Oh, yes."
Connor placed some kindling into the fireplace and set it alight. "Let's get this fire going. By the time we've unpacked the car and put everything away, it'll be ready for us."
My dick rose at the promise in his voice. "Sounds good to me."
He fished the car keys from his pocket and grinned. "We'd best get a move-on then."
We unpacked the car, and then stocked the fridge and cupboard with the food we'd bought before leaving Marlborough. The afternoon darkened to twilight and the wind rose, hurling the ceaseless rain against the windows. I drew the curtains and turned on a few lamps. I lingered at the huge sitting room window and watched the sea fade into the sky.
Connor stood behind me and nuzzled my ear. "Shall we give the bed a try-out?"
"I think that's a very good idea." It was impossible to deny the fire of his touch, the languid way he moved his hips against my arse, his need obvious.
We left the sitting room behind. In the bedroom, the fire blazed away, casting flickering light across the carpet. Connor stood before me, his shirt already unbuttoned. "So, here we are… you, me, and a house in the middle of nowhere. Whatever shall we do with ourselves?"
I rested my hand on his chest and felt his heart race beneath my fingers. "I'm sure we'll think of something."
He kissed me. "I've thought of nothing else."
"Same here." I pushed his shirt away and steered him toward the bed. Connor pulled me down with him until both of us lay across the bed.
Threading my fingers through his hair, I bit his lip and inhaled the lemon-juniper scent of his aftershave.
Here, there were no cars rolling along the High Street, no clatter of pots from the tea room, nothing but the constant song of the rain and our sighs. Connor moved onto me, his hips moving with tantalising slowness over mine. I slid my hands over the silk of his skin, wanting to feel it beneath my fingers.
We lost ourselves in kisses for a long time, slowly shedding clothes until there was nothing between us, just skin sliding over skin. Connor leaned over me and reached for the condoms and lube. He sat back on his heels, his hands trembling as he tore open the packet and rolled the condom over his cock. I watched him and how the firelight played across him, finding the hollows beneath and above his shoulder blades. I wanted to remember everything, from the way he carefully applied the lube, to the way his hair fell over his forehead.
Wanting him close, I reached for him. The fire wasn't enough. I needed him inside me. I needed every inch of him touching me.
"Jamie." My name was lost in his sigh. He leaned forward and slipped one finger into me. "I am going to miss you more than you will ever know."
"Let's not talk about that now." I brushed my lips over his and tried to breathe while he twisted his finger inside me. "I don't want to think about missing you."
Connor's breaths were warm and measured on my lips. "Then we won't." He withdrew his finger and ran his tongue along my bottom lip. "Are you ready?"
"Christ, yes."
He drew away for a moment, positioning himself. Then, with a sharp inhalation, he eased into me. He paused to nip my shoulder before he pressed forward once more. We fit together so well. Every part of me welcomed him. Feeling his breath on my skin, I pulled him closer and listened to his whispered endearments between kisses.
We moved together, familiar with each other's ways. Ten days and nights, spread over five weeks, that's all we had. I curled my fingers through Connor's hair and took him in, struggling to breathe.
"Jamie…" He made my name sound like a prayer. His voice was little more than a fevered whisper. He claimed me with his hands, his mouth, and his body. Every move was slow, considered, and deliberate. He was all there was and all I wanted. I didn't even have to touch myself. Connor rocked his hips, finding that sweet spot. He left me struggling to hold on, to give him time to find his own way.
I took a deep breath while every inch of me begged for his touch. I felt him move inside me, quickening. Our breaths became harsh little gasps. His head dropped forward and I held onto him. Our eyes met. Connor smiled, and I felt a wild rush of something inside, something beyond the impending orgasm, something deeper. My balls tightened, and heat rushed to my loins. Raking my fingers down his shoulders, I came before him
He ducked to kiss me before driving in once more. Then, he shuddered to a halt and c
ame with a long, shaky groan.
Holding onto each other in the aftermath, we listened to the rain and to the greedy crackle of the fire. Connor remained where he tumbled. He rested on me, and tucked his head beneath my chin. I inhaled the scent of him and committed it to memory, along with every other tiny detail, from the way the firelight danced on his shoulders, to the steady huff of his warm breaths on my skin.
He huddled closer as I stroked his hair and his shoulders.
"I could just stay here like this forever." Connor's voice was muffled.
"So could I." I kissed his forehead, so close to letting the words spill out of me, to admitting that I'd been foolish enough to fall in love with him. Instead, I held him and wished I could keep him safe from the hell he was heading to, as if my kisses and caresses could offer some ancient spell of protection. Connor rolled off me, removed the condom, and tossed it into the bin.
"You look like you're miles away." He returned to my arms, and curled up beneath the bedclothes.
"No, I'm here." I smiled at him and tightened my hold on his shoulders.
"Good." He wrapped himself around me. "I'm glad you're here. I'm glad I walked into the tea shop that day and met you." He brushed his lips over my jaw. "I'm glad that I have you to come home to." He raised himself onto his elbows and touched my cheek. "I will have you to come back to, won't I? Will you wait for me?"
"Yes. I'll wait. I wouldn't dream of doing anything else."
Connor smiled. "Will you write to me? Well, email. The service isn't all that great but it's better than nothing."
"Of course." I stroked his face. Weekend stubble rasped beneath my fingertips. "And six months will go by in no time."
"I hope so." He caught my fingers in his hand and guided them to his lips. "I've been doing a lot of thinking."
"You have?" I shifted beneath him, growing hard again. "About what?"
"About us. About when I come home."
"And…?"
"Will you live with me? I don't know where. I don't know how. All I know is that I want to be with you." Connor curled his fingers through mine and held my hand against his cheek. "I know this is all happening crazy fast, but I can't think of anything else but living with you. Being able to do this every night and waking up with you in the morning. It's something worth fighting for, living for."
I looked at him and tried to speak.
"Jamie?"
"Yes… yes, I will." The whys and wherefores could wait.
"Really?" Connor grinned. "You will?"
"I'd live in a garden shed with you."
He kissed me and, for a while, there was no need for talking.
* * * *
"I think we should go for a walk." Connor stood beside the vast living room window. The October sunlight fell onto the carpet, warming the room. Only the frost-silvered shrubs in the back garden gave any indication that outside was less than warm.
I set my coffee cup down and glanced at the waves as they slammed onto the beach. One hardy soul walked his dog along the sand, and seagulls wheeled and soared above the water. "I suppose we'd be stupid not to. It's not like we get to see the sea very often."
"Come on then. Get dressed before I change my mind and throw you down on the bed."
"Hmmm, now that is a good idea."
"We can't spend the entire time in bed, tempting as it is." He took my hand and raised it to his lips. "We can do that when we get back. It looks cold out there. You'll need to warm me up."
"I can do that."
"I know you can."
We hurried into our coats. The sooner we got out there, the sooner we could return. Connor took my hand when we walked along the path toward the beach. The cold air was a shock after the warmth of the house and the tempting, king-size comfort of the bed. The icy breeze tugged at Connor's hair and brought a raw and brilliant flush to his cheeks. His fingers tightened through mine, the touch muted by our gloves.
The tide was on the way out, leaving the sand damp and packed. Gulls picked at discarded shells and hopped between long, twisted ribbons of seaweed. Small white clouds scudded across a watery blue sky, while streaks of cirrus stretched like horsetails to the west, promising more bad weather.
We walked in a silence broken by the constant swish of the waves, which stretched strands of bubbling foam across the sand before receding. Each new wave left something in its wake, a clump of seaweed, a gleaming pebble, a broken shell. Connor stopped, crouched and picked up a shell, a long, indigo blade. "Here you go. A souvenir." He pressed it gently into my upturned palm. "You can't go to the seaside and not bring back a shell or two."
"I used to collect shells all the time when I was a kid. It used to drive Mum and Dad crazy when I'd run back to the car with a bucket full of them. They used to smell a bit if it was a hot day."
"Me too. My brothers would build sandcastles and I'd be strolling down the beach picking up bits and pieces. I nearly picked up a jellyfish once."
"That's not very bright." I put the shell carefully in my pocket.
"Yeah, luckily my dad spotted me and warned me off."
We walked on again. Connor slid his arm around my waist and pulled me close. "There are other things we need to talk about."
I looked at him. "What kind of things?"
"Well, practical stuff. The things that any soldier would discuss with their partner."
"I'm not going to like this bit, am I?"
"No more than I will." His voice faded to a sigh. "I'd rather talk about it than put it all in a letter."
I swallowed and leaned close. "Go on then."
Connor glanced up at the sky for a moment. "I've left some instructions with my solicitor. His name is Jon Harrow. Hopefully, you'll never hear from him. I just want to be all set, you know?"
"Solicitor? Christ, this is going to be really serious stuff."
He nodded. "I've saved a lot of money over the years. I don't have a place of my own so there's nothing much to worry about except mess bills and the like. If I get out of Afghanistan in one piece, then it's ours. It'll be a deposit on a house, seed money to start my own business. It'll set us up nicely. But, if anything happens to me, then it's yours."
"We've only been together a few months. Why do this? Are you sure that's what you really want?"
"It doesn't matter. From the first night we spent together, I knew what I wanted. I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. We just fit together so well. Don't you feel that too?"
I stared past him to the restless sea. He was right. I'd never felt such a deep and immediate connection with anyone before. Not that I'd done much in the way of playing the field. I was never a "love 'em and leave 'em" sort of man. I hated the hard lump in my throat. "Money? I know what I'd rather have."
"I know. But as far as I'm concerned, it's our money. If I'm not around to spend it, you'll have to."
My eyes stung. I knew it wasn't from the cold wind or the salt in the air. "All right. So that's it, right? No more practical stuff?"
Connor shook his head. "No, there's more." He paused and turned. His arm fell away from my waist. "If the worst happens to me, Harrow's got instructions to deal with that too. I've asked to be cremated. I've talked to my parents and they're okay with the idea of you getting the ashes. I want you to bring them here and scatter them into the sea." He brushed the hair from my eyes. "Are you all right with that?"
The lump turned to a stone. It hurt to talk. "I'm not all right with you dying."
"Neither am I, but we need to talk about it. You've seen the news and read the papers. You know what it's like."
I nodded and wiped my eyes. "All right, I'll bring your ashes here."
"Thank you." He brushed his gloved thumb over my cheek. "It's a lot to ask."
"It bloody is, but I'll do it."
God, please let that be it. I don't think I want to hear any more.
"My parents are listed as my next of kin. They'll be the ones to get the visit from the officers. I thought
it best because I hate the idea of you being in that bloody tea shop and seeing a couple of soldiers walking in. Mum or Dad will be in touch if anything happens. You'll love them. They can't wait to meet you. I just would feel happier knowing that you'll have each other."
I rested my forehead against his. "This is killing me."
"I'm sorry. I know. It's killing me too." Connor slid his arms around my waist and pulled me toward him. His breath was warm on my lips. "I don't want to do this. But you mean so much to me. I want to do right by you. I want to make sure you're looked after."
"Thank you, but I'd rather you just came back to me."
"I promise I'll do everything I can to make sure that the next time you stand on this beach, it'll be with me and not my ashes."
"Good, see that you do."
"There's one or two other things."
"Oh, God."
"Nothing sinister. Just practical stuff again."
"Go on."
"I have some personal bits and pieces. Not much, just a handful of boxes. I'd rather you kept them for me. It'll be one less thing I have to do when I get back. Is that all right?"
I thought of my tiny flat. "I suppose I can keep them in the spare room. All right." I touched his face. "Is that it?"
"For now. If I think of anything else, I'll let you know. But I think that's everything. I'll send you emails as often as I can."
"That'll work."
"Good." He slid his hand down my arm. "Now, have you had enough fresh air for the day? I think I have."
"Yeah, same here." I was thinking about that bed and what we could do on it to chase away the worry.
"I'll put some more logs on the fire. We can stay in bed for the rest of the day, if you like."
"I'd like that." I trailed my hand over his fly and felt his anticipation. "I'd be content with spending the rest of the week in that bed."
Connor bit my lip. "Come on then. Let's go and shag each other senseless."
* * * *
I woke to the roar of an early morning storm. Wind hurled the rain against the windows. Connor slept on beside me, curled on his side, resting his head on my pillow. The numbers on the bedside clock glowed blue in the darkness. We had a few hours left until we had to leave. I edged closer, nudging my way into Connor's arms. He stirred, murmured something in his sleep, and curled his hand beneath my chin. I kissed the corner of his mouth, willing him to wake.