The Aisle and Skye (The Skye Series Book 2)

by Fox Brison

  So the first thing I was going to do after Skye was back in my arms was tell her I loved her.

  The second was make her laugh.

  Chapter 19

  Skye

  Tess’s parents were in town for the night and had been kind enough to invite me to dinner. I was beyond excited to spend the evening with the eminent Professor Ford and pick his brains. Unfortunately, it couldn’t have come at a worse time because I had seven student essays to mark and a meeting with the department head to prepare for.

  I was in for a long night.

  What was worse was that I was running late, terribly, terribly late, and according to Tess being tardy was a big no no when it came to her father. Apparently, he was a stickler for punctuality, a trait I actually shared. Soaping myself, I ignored the feeling of urgency and luxuriated in the feeling of cleanliness. I closed my eyes and imagined Natalie’s hands trailing over my body, down my chest, lightly grazing my nipple, before lazily continuing its journey to the underside of my breast.

  What’s this? I stopped what I was doing and furrowed my brow.

  I rubbed a couple of fingers over a tender spot on the side of my left breast, practically under my armpit. At first I thought I was imagining it, but no there was definitely… something…

  A small lump?

  Probably a spot, I thought, bending my head forward in an effort to see what was going on. That didn’t work, so climbing out of the shower, I lifted my arm in front of the mirror. Nothing. With my arm in the air, I ran my finger over the tender area. This time, I wasn’t sure. Fuck. I was about to do a thorough inspection when the doorbell rang. Oh, Skye, you fool, you’re becoming as macabre as Sara. It’s probably just an ingrown hair follicle.

  Tess. Double fuck. Swiftly wrapping myself in a large fluffy towel, I ran to the door leaving a soapy trail. “Sorry, Tess, I got stuck at work. Give me ten minutes and I’m all yours.” I hurried back up the stairs and finished getting ready, preparing myself mentally to talk history all night with one of the foremost experts on the Eastern seaboard.

  Torture for most, heaven for me.

  Chapter 20

  Natalie

  Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty six hours. Twenty thousand… I finished fiddling with the calculator on my tablet and focussed on the clock. Thirty minutes until I spoke to Skye. Yeah, like I’m going to last that long. “Get yourself naked, babe, I’m about to rock your world.”

  “Oh. Uhm. Hey, Natalie. Skye’s still in the shower. Can she call you back?”

  “Yes. Yes of course. Sorry.” Totally mortified, I hung up. Then I frowned. I’d struggled to get Skye alone this past month because she and Tess were practically joined at the hip and now... What the fuck? Now Tess is answering Skye’s phone? They may have gone to Halloween dressed as Gru and his minion but this was a step too far! I tried to disregard the deluge of unease that swept over me.

  For the fifth time this week.

  Tess was a good friend, so good, she’d arranged the gig at Yale and was also covering Skye’s lectures so she could spend an extra few days at home in November, but that didn’t stop the acid gurgling in my stomach.

  “Hey, sweetie, sorry about that,” Skye returned my call less than two minutes later.

  “No worries. I know I’m early but I was on the cusp of counting the seconds until we were together again and it was getting sad.”

  “Twenty thousand and thirty one minutes,” she whispered tenderly and relief coursed through me. It was reassuring that I wasn’t the only one counting down.

  “So are you and Tess working late again?”

  “Not tonight. Tess’s parents are in town and we’re all going out to dinner.”

  “Dinner?” She must have forgotten our scheduled call. For the first time. And not for the first time I felt second best, and then third, in Skye’s thoughts.

  I obviously did a damned poor job of hiding my incredulity because Skye quickly said with some concern, “Nat, are you alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Dinner? Skye was meeting Tess’s parents. For dinner. In what fucking fantasy realm is this not weird? Gritting my teeth I finally acknowledged what the pain in my gut was telling me. Skye should maybe check those x-rays again.

  I was jealous of Tess and her growing prominence in Skye’s life.

  And there was no one to blame but myself.

  Chapter 21

  Skye

  It’s amazing how different two weeks can feel. As a child those last two weeks of the summer would fly by, and you’d bitch and moan as your mother hauled you unceremoniously into every shoe and clothing shop in town to buy the boring bits for the new school year.

  Then of course there’s the flip side, when two weeks are an eternity stretching in front of you. Waiting for Santa Claus to visit and those fourteen sleeps till he arrived felt more like forty?

  That’s how the last two weeks felt for me.

  A Galapagos tortoise with a dodgy foot trudging through treacle would have gone quicker.

  ***

  Sitting on the tarmac at Newcastle airport waiting for the plane doors to open, I felt a bit of a muppet. I wasn’t romantic in real life. Oh I could write about it until the cows, sheep and the pigs came home, but when it came to putting into practise what I preached, I’d give myself a D- ‘must try harder’ grade. I was too pragmatic, for one thing, and a paralysing fear of rejection still skulked in my deeper consciousness for another. I held the bunch of roses, red of course (I was still silently cursing my predictability) that I’d bought at Heathrow tightly.

  I sensed, rather than saw, the doors open as the cold air caressed the top of my thigh. I say caress, it was more like a stinging slap; the air was biting after not actually stepping one foot outside for fifteen hours since I entered Logan International Airport in Boston. I wouldn’t normally wear a dress that barely reached the middle of my thigh (the hem of which I spent the whole flight self-consciously tugging on) nor would I usually choose to wear brown suede thigh high boots to travel in. The desired effect, I hoped, would be that Nat would find it impossible to keep her hands off me. My goal machine was about to become my love machine.

  That was the plan anyway.

  I remained glued to my seat whilst everyone else stood and rushed to the exit. Or rather, whilst the other passengers slowly shuffled down the aisle in a long conga line, intermittently ducking to avoid a certain braining from a case blindly swung down from the overhead locker.

  By the time I reached luggage reclaim the bags were already on the carousel. I missed my case the first time it passed because it was far trickier to grab whilst holding a bunch of flowers than I thought it would be, and the fact it weighed a ton didn’t help either. Snaring it at the second attempt, I was ready and raring to go.

  Kind of.

  Not.

  Okay so I was and I wasn’t. I was nervous. Really nervous. The past two weeks had been strained and I prayed it was only a blip on the radar not a full blown alien invasion of Independence Day proportions. My heart stuttered, before racing to the finish line when I walked through customs and into the main arrivals hall. There was Nat in her charcoal cashmere jumper and black jeans. She was stunning. She looked up from her phone at the same time as mine chirped.

  And smiled.

  Her smile was hard to describe. It was full of love, a touch of nervousness, and with a dash of excitement to spice up the mix. Plus those dimples. Dear god how I adored those dimples. My nerves instantly dissolved to nothing. I wasn’t one for grand gestures, not at all, but the circumstances undeniably called for one; I dropped my case and ran.

  It was a movie moment.

  Generally, I didn’t have movie moments, well, not romantic ones anyway. Disaster and horror movie moments, I suffered those aplenty. But I certainly never had ones like this and it showed how Natalie had changed my life beyond all recognition.

  “Hey you,” she whispered into my hair.

  “Hey right back at you.” I woul
d not embarrass myself by crying. I wouldn’t. Okay, so I would.

  “Skye?”

  “I missed you,” I whispered. “And I didn’t realise how much until right now.” So focussed on keeping busy, I’d managed to hold most of the swell of emotions safely behind the breakwaters. However, now I was here and she was too? The floodgates were well and truly opened.

  “You look amazing, sweetie.” Her voice was full of yearning. “And I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself until we get home. Maybe…”

  “Yes?”

  “What would you say to booking into a hotel? I’m gonna be honest, Skye and a little selfish, but I don’t want to share you tonight. Tonight I want it to be all about us. Is that okay?”

  “I’d say it’s the best idea you’ve ever had, darling.” I said huskily and Nat gulped.

  I’d achieved the desired effect and then some.

  ***

  “So is there anything special you want to do whilst you’re home?” Natalie lay naked on the bed next to me. The hotel room was… you know what, I couldn’t tell you because I hadn’t taken my eyes off Natalie since we blundered through the door in a race to remove each other’s clothes. She won. Or I did. Let’s call it a tie and both of us were winners, again and again.

  And, oh yes… I whimpered… again.

  She trailed her hand over my thigh, down my calf and back up again; her touch drove me wild.

  “If you didn’t have to play footie, I would suggest we stay here for the next seven days.”

  “If only.” Natalie replaced her finger with her lips.

  Mmmm. I lost track of my thoughts. What was I supposed to be thinking about again? Oh. Oh God yes, she reached my inner thigh and I quivered. “I promised we’d go and see Tara and Michael, but apart from that,” I grabbed her hand and placed it high between my legs, “I’m all yours.”

  “Excellent,” she moaned through a gasp of pleasure. My inner glow was so intense it burst out of me.

  I still have the ability to steal her breath...

  ***

  After we made love for the second time, Nat rested her head on my stomach and I played with her hair. It was paradise. I liked Bean but stroking him scarcely compared! She tensed ever so slightly. “Nat, what’s wrong?”

  “I won’t be coming back to Boston until a week before the new season starts in March.”

  “Oh.” The disappointment in her eyes mirrored the dejection in my tone.

  “I’m sorry, Skye, I honestly thought I’d be back for pre-season-”

  I quickly regrouped. I wasn’t going to let this bump spoil our time together. “It’s alright I’m glad you told me now, and not just before you were due home in February, because that might have killed me.” I kissed her fingers. “Nat, we knew going in that we’d have responsibilities to our jobs as well as to each other. It simply sucks that both of our careers are taking off at the same time, but flying in different directions.”

  “Regrets?” she whispered the question.

  “Not a one.” I said grinning. “Although we might want a lot more practise at the phone sex thing.”

  “You didn’t enjoy it?” she blushed. “I thought we did alright.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” I said huskily. “I loved it. What I mean is we might want to do it more often.”

  “I liked the role playing,” she turned over with some intent.

  “Yes, that was nice,” I said stiltedly.

  “I also liked-”

  “Okay, Nat, sheesh!” During sex? I revelled in dirty talk, telling Nat exactly what I needed and what I was going to do to her. Afterwards? Yeah not so much. I’d be so bright you could see me from the international space station.

  Nat knew this and sniggered at my discomfort. “I also liked when I heard you orgasm.” Her voice softened. “I think I want to hear it again.”

  And who was I to disappoint?

  Chapter 22

  Skye

  I may have told Natalie I would have been happy barricading ourselves in a hotel room for seven days humping like nymphomaniac rabbits, but honestly? Although she was the main reason for the visit, I was also looking forward to seeing Sara, Mrs Jeffries and my brothers and their families too.

  “How does it feel to be back?” Natalie asked when we finally arrived back on Holy Island. She’d rented the cottage where we’d first fallen for each other right through from mid-November to the end of her contract in March…

  That wound was fresh and still stung a little.

  I peered around, reacquainting myself with the small living area. The worn tan leather sofa remained, as did the bookcase stuffed with my notebooks. I looked at Natalie, stunned by her thoughtfulness. “I got them out of storage for you,” she said bashfully.

  The woodburner was already lit and the smell of fresh coffee and rolls permeated the air. “It feels like home,” I said, sincerely. “What time are Sara and Andy arriving for dinner?”

  “I told them seven. Is that okay?”

  “Seven? That’s great it’ll give us time to-”

  “Really?” Nat removed her jumper and prowled towards me like a great cat.

  “Make the salad and set the table.” I shoved a head of lettuce and some peppers into her hands.

  “Spoil sport.”

  “Your mother has already caught us in the act. I don’t want to add your sister to the list! All we’d need after that is your Dad and we’ll have a Jeffries full house.”

  ***

  Andy and Sara arrived on the dot. After a dinner of chicken cacciatore (one of Abby’s recipes and a winner judging by the empty plates) we adjourned to the living room to relax – which was code for have another bottle of wine.

  “Are you sure you want the kids on Saturday, Skye?” Sara said, not quite believing her luck or my magnanimity… or my stupidity depending upon how you viewed it.

  “Absolutely. Malky and Jamie are coming as well. I phoned Cam, but Melissa’s staying at Ali’s parent’s on Saturday.” We all shuddered. Poor kid.

  “Where are you going to put them all?” Andy asked, obviously not a veteran of many sleepovers.

  “The floor.”

  “Enough about the kids,” Sara interrupted abruptly, “this is adult time.”

  “Exactly, so tell us how’d the reunion go? Does absence make the heart grow fonder, Nat?” Andy joked and Sara nudged her husband, even though she appeared just as keen to hear the answer.

  “I don’t know about fonder, but definitely hornier!” I hit Natalie’s arm. She and Andy were totally incorrigible when they got together and had a drink.

  “What? He started it,” she protested.

  “Anyway, do you fancy coming for brekker on Sunday, Sara? We could take the kids for a walk.” I didn’t want to say ‘so we can catch up properly without these two idiots,’ but I’m sure she caught my drift.

  “Sounds great,” she winked, confirming my suspicions.

  As soon as Sara and Andy left, Nat and I crashed. We tumbled into bed, and Nat held me snugly because she rarely relinquished her big spoon mantle.

  “Did you just sniff me?” she whispered.

  “I did. I love your smell.” It was citrusy good with a hint of bergamot.

  “You should, you chose it.”

  As we lay in each other’s arms, I thought about the past eight weeks. Things had been easy for us, well relatively, up until this little career roadblock. The diversion forced us to stop and take stock of our relationship.

  Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, even though there were several instances when I wished someone would invent a GPS for relationships.

  In retrospect I was glad it happened. We could have slipped into the ‘taking the relationship for granted’ route instead of the ‘continue to work for each other’ route. We learned a lot about each other navigating this bump, and I was certain we could only go from strength to strength from here on in.

  ***

  The sleepover with the kids proved successful. The four o
f them were relatively well behaved little hellions and succumbed to the sandman’s charms by ten pm, thanks in main to Natalie and I walking their hyperactive legs off in the afternoon.

  Andy may not have been a veteran of sleepovers, but I was.

  The key, I’d found after several trial and error efforts (one of which almost sent me loopy when a four year old Jack ran in circles for an hour chanting a Spanish pop song he’d heard on YouTube, and I was on the verge of calling a priest because I thought he was talking in tongues) was down to the carefully chosen entertainment and food. We watched a Disney DVD and ate very little sugar, meaning Nat and I got to sleep at a reasonable hour.

  Sunday morning arrived crisp and clear and there was even a touch of frost on the car windscreen. Natalie was making her way to Manchester for her match; I was flying back to Boston in two days, so we agreed I wouldn’t make the extra journey. After destroying a plate of bacon sarnies, Sara, the kids and I went for a walk along the beach. The tide wasn’t long out and the mustard coloured sand sucked at our feet, leaving huge imprints that slowly disappeared as the water and sand reclaimed the marks for themselves. The sky was blue, an occasional white fluffy cloud sauntering negligently into our vision, before heading off to gather some friends and wreak some havoc elsewhere.

  As usual it didn’t take long for the football to appear. “I’m gonna be Natalie,” Jamie shouted and took off after his younger brother.

  “Nuh-huh,” Jack pouted, “I should be Nat cos she’s my aunty.”

  “No I should be Nat because she’s my aunty and I’m a girl,” five year old Sally piped up.

  “You don’t even like football, Sal,” Jack said disdainfully. In all fairness I think he was quite correct, Sally wasn’t all that bothered about football, she merely wanted to be like her big brother - or contrary.