by Sarah Morgan
But Jack approached things differently, and he crushed his mouth to hers, making the decision for them. She moaned, kissing him back, her mouth as urgent as his. They’d been patient, held back, kept their needs in check but now desire was like a wild beast released and it clawed at them, ripping through restraint and control.
His hands were impatient as they sought skin concealed by clothing, and then she felt the roughness of his palms against bare flesh and gasped as he stroked and explored. And she explored, too, her fingers lingering on the swell and flex of muscle, savoring their differences. Usually she was controlled and careful, but now she felt reckless.
He loved her, he loved her.
She tugged at his shirt, then moved lower, fumbling with buttons—who invented buttons?—and then, yes, a rush of delicious anticipation as she felt him hard and heavy against her fingers. He yanked her dress, hauling it up, lifting her. Mouths locked they kissed, barely coming up for air as they fed on the desire that roared through them. She was deaf to everything except the sounds they made together, the rasp of breathing, the rustle of clothing. And then she felt the smooth, silken length of him against her. Everything was edged in desperation. She wanted to give, but she also wanted to take something for herself. He surged into her and she felt her body yield, slick and ready for him, welcoming the thickness and heat and drawing him in. With every skilled thrust the pleasure grew, building in intensity until she was consumed by sensation. Dizzy with it, she held on and rode out the storm, matching his demands with her own.
In that moment her whole world was him, and his was her. There was nothing but the passion. And finally the throbbing of her body eased, her head cleared a little, allowing the outside world in. She heard the distant sound of a woodpecker. The rustle of leaves. The harshness of his breathing, rapid and unsteady.
He lowered her to the ground. “Flora—”
She covered his lips with her fingers, not wanting him to talk. She didn’t want anything to end this perfect moment. Real life would eventually intrude as it always did and she couldn’t stop that, but she would keep it at a distance for as long as possible.
She leaned her head against his shoulder, flesh against heated flesh, prolonging the moment as long as possible, and then she felt his hand on her head, cradling her, possessive and protective.
“It should have been a five-star hotel.” His mouth was on her hair, his voice was rough and low. “You should have had champagne and silk sheets.”
She smiled against his skin. “I didn’t need that. I needed you. This. Us.”
“I love you. I love you so much.” His hold on her tightened, and hers on him. She couldn’t bring herself to let him go. Her heart, bruised for so long, felt healed and whole. Strong, for the first time. That hollow emptiness had gone. Intimacy, she thought. The cure for that loneliness hadn’t been more friends or more activities, a busier day, a busier life. It had been intimacy. Trust.
Their breathing slowed, but still he held her.
“I should have taken more time.”
It made her laugh that he’d thought he was the one in control of it. “I didn’t give you that choice.”
“True.” He eased away so he could look at her. “I thought I knew you, but I didn’t know you could be so demanding.”
“I have a ruthless, killer streak didn’t you know?”
“I didn’t know, but I do now. I just saw a new side of you. You ravished me in the forest.”
“Am I expected to apologize for that?” It wasn’t clear who had ravished who, but she was enjoying the conversation too much to end it.
“Definitely not. Just as I’m not going to apologize for what happens next.”
“What—” She didn’t get to ask her question because he swept her up and carried her through the trees. “Jack! You can’t—”
“I can. I am. Hold on.”
“You’re going to drop me in a patch of poison ivy.” She was breathless. Laughing. “Someone will see us. Someone will—”
“Losing your nerve now? What happened to the assertive woman who just had tree sex?”
“That was spontaneous.” Although it hadn’t been, not really. It had been building for weeks, months. The sexual tension between them had reached incendiary levels.
“This is spontaneous, too, only I want the version that doesn’t include clothes and gymnastics against a tree.”
She was about to ask where they were going when she saw the sleek lines of the boathouse. “How did we end up here?”
“I took the shortest possible route. I may have to explain away a rip in my trousers.”
Before she could answer they were inside. He nudged the door closed behind them, swore as he struggled to turn the key without putting her down, and then carried her to the bedroom.
“I had no idea you were so good at multitasking.”
“I’m about to show you how good.” He set her down but he didn’t let her go.
Dimly she wondered what would happen if someone else decided to use the boathouse, but then he touched her, kissed her, and she stopped thinking about anything but him.
This time they took it slower, savoring, drawing out the pleasure until she rose over him, taking him deep, making him hers in every way.
Finally, after a long shower that was made longer by his determination to explore every part of her, they collapsed on the bed.
He’d opened the doors to the balcony and she could hear birdsong and the soft lap of water against the dock. She wished she could freeze this moment, stay like this wrapped in his arms and warmed by the sunshine pouring through the glass.
The intimacy, the closeness, was something she hadn’t experienced before.
She’d never shared herself with anyone the way she had with Jack. Their relationship was deeper than anything she’d experienced before.
She felt exhilarated, content, lucky, loved.
And Jack had shared, too. She ignored the tiny voice in her head that reminded her he still hadn’t really talked about Becca.
16
Izzy
The pony trundled along the track and Izzy shifted in the saddle, trying to get comfortable. Her neck was burning from the sun, her whole body was sweaty. It was a long way to the ground. When Flora had brightly suggested pony trekking as an activity she should have made an excuse, but she was still feeling guilty about the scene at breakfast the day before and Flora’s anguished confession.
She’d felt so bad about it that she’d been ready to agree to pretty much anything to make amends. She was tired of feeling bad about herself and tired of feeling guilty the whole time. Also, she didn’t want to be left out of an activity that Molly was doing. Her almost childish desperation to cling to the ragged remains of her family was almost as embarrassing as her riding skills.
So here she was on a horse. She’d never been that into horses. She was a city girl. A city girl who was terrified.
Who was the people pleaser now?
If she hadn’t been so afraid of falling off, she might have laughed.
They were riding in a line, with a delighted Molly bouncing in the saddle directly in front of her and then Aiden.
It was kind of annoying that he looked great on the horse, relaxed and in control, like he was a cowboy or something. Izzy scowled at his back, while at the same time admiring his shoulders and his athletic ability.
Maybe he sensed her scrutiny because he glanced over his shoulder and grinned at her and she pulled a face, partly because she was horribly embarrassed to look so red and sweaty in front of him, and partly because she had no idea how to ride. It was an uncomfortable, sticky nightmare and something she would have rather he hadn’t witnessed. By the time she slid off this animal her ego would have shriveled to the size of a peanut.
“This is brilliant,” Flora sang out from behind her and Izzy rolled her eyes to heaven. Brilliant? She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have said this wa
s Flora’s revenge for those times she’d made her run to the Brooklyn Bridge. But Flora wasn’t the type to take revenge. No, this was just her idea of fun. Trying something none of them had tried before, except Aiden.
“Look, Molly!” Flora was obviously enjoying herself. “See the rabbits in the field? They’re so cute.”
Clare rose up in her stirrups and laughed. “I see them! Well spotted, Flora.”
Izzy had noticed a shift in the relationship between Clare and Flora. It seemed that despite the frosty beginning, they genuinely liked each other. And although it felt slightly weird to admit it, Izzy suspected that Clare had more in common with Flora than she’d had with Becca.
Izzy looked over the hedge, and saw wild rabbits bounding across the grass. Flora was always pointing things out. Look at the colors on that butterfly. Taste this wild raspberry. She noticed small things and Izzy was starting to notice them, too. She’d discovered that if you focused hard enough on the present, the future seemed to shrink a little.
She was still staring at the rabbits when her pony put his head down to snatch grass from the track. Izzy almost flew over his head. “Mine keeps eating!” She tugged ineffectually at the reins. “Why does he keep eating? Don’t they feed him back at the yard?”
“He’s taking advantage of you. Keep using your legs,” the girl in charge yelled back at her. “Show him who is boss.”
Izzy was in no doubt about who was the boss, and it wasn’t her.
She gave another tug of the reins and pressed her legs against the pony’s fat sides. He tore off another chunk of grass and ambled forward, munching.
“Grazing is bad for you, didn’t you hear?” Izzy tried conciliation rather than coercion, patting his neck, and stroking her hand over the wiry fur. “I guess not. As you’re a horse.” It had to be hot, she thought, having fur and a mane and tail. And all those flies just buzzing around wanting to munch on you.
This was probably all her fault for accusing Flora of only doing what she wanted to do.
At breakfast Molly had been talking about how much she wanted to try horseback riding. Flora had suddenly said “let’s do it” with so much enthusiasm that before Izzy could produce a suitable excuse Clare was on the phone booking for all of them, apart from her dad and Todd who had suddenly found a pressing need to take the boat out onto the lake.
Izzy would have exchanged her current situation for a day sailing. She’d do anything to feel the wind in her hair and the spray on her face.
Flies buzzed around the pony and he shook his head, irritated. Izzy clutched the front of the saddle, terrified of falling. There was probably symbolism here if she looked for it. Trying something new. Stepping out of your comfort zone. Letting go of the predictable.
Maybe she’d write a blog about it. How far should you go to please another person? Where did you draw the line between being easygoing and a total pushover? Right now she felt like a pushover, although it was true that the views were pretty good from the back of a horse. She looked over walls and hedges to mountain slopes dappled by heather and rocks. She looked down into fast-flowing rivers and was eye level with the lower branches of trees.
She realized that for the first time in months she didn’t feel exhausted. She was sleeping better, waking to birdsong and cool lake air rather than nightmares or Molly crying.
They arrived back at Lake Lodge, tired and overheated.
Flora and Clare vanished indoors to shower and change.
Izzy rubbed her fingers in her damp, matted hair and eyed the lake. Wearing the hard hat had given her a headache. “Straight into the lake for a swim and cooldown, I think.” Their bathing suits were hanging over the back of a sunlounger, drying from the day before. She held out her hand to Molly. “Last one in is a big baboon.”
“No!” Molly shrank from her and Izzy felt that rejection like a blow to the gut. She’d just been on a horse for goodness sake. She was starting to think her walk would never be normal again. The least her sister could do was join her for a dip.
“But you love swimming.”
“I don’t want to.” Molly burst into noisy sobs while Izzy stood, stunned.
What was wrong? Her sister loved everything to do with the water.
Confused, Izzy dropped to her knees and hugged her. “There,” she said soothingly. “It’s fine. You don’t have to swim if you don’t want to.” But why wouldn’t she want to? Was this a tantrum? Was she tired after the horse-riding? Izzy’s whole body ached from holding on and trying not to fall on her head and die, so that was possible.
Molly’s sobs intensified until she was gulping in air in between each heartrending howl.
Izzy started to panic. This was her sister. She knew her sister. But she had no idea what was going on here. “What’s the matter? Did something happen? Have you hurt yourself? Was it the horse? Did it bite you or something?”
Molly shook her head, her face crumpled. “I miss Mommy.”
“I know, I know.” Izzy hugged her, totally out of her depth. There had been the nightmares of course, and the bed-wetting, but those had been easier to deal with. This? She had no idea what had brought it on. It couldn’t have been the horses. There were no memories there. Her mother wouldn’t have gone within a million miles of a horse.
She rocked her sister as she howled and glanced desperately at the Lodge. Her dad was still sailing. Where was Aunt Clare? Probably in the shower at the back of the house. Aiden, too.
“It’s okay, honey.” She stroked Molly’s hair. “It’s okay.” Please be okay. Please stop crying.
“Don’t—want—” Molly hiccupped, her breath jerking as she tried to get the words out “—go in—water.”
“You don’t want to go in the water. I get it. You don’t have to. You can sit on the edge and watch me, and—agh—” She gasped as Molly almost broke her ribs.
“Don’t want you—to swim—” jerk, hiccup “—either.”
Her sister’s arms were crushing her. “Right. Okay.” But it wasn’t okay of course. It was bemusing and a little scary. She used to have confidence dealing with Molly, but right now she felt clueless.
Desperate, she glanced at the Lodge and saw Flora appear by the window.
Izzy hesitated, trying to breathe even though her sister’s arms weren’t giving her lungs the space to expand. She didn’t want to ask for help. She wanted to handle this herself. She wanted to be indispensable. On the other hand Molly’s sobs were killing her. She couldn’t bear to see her sister this upset.
“Tell me what’s happened, Molly.”
But Molly just clung and cried and Izzy started to feel like crying, too.
She usually knew exactly how to comfort her sister, but not today.
With a huge effort, she forced herself to call out. “Flora!”
In an ideal world Flora was the last person she’d turn to for help, but this wasn’t an ideal world, was it? In fact most of the time right now it felt like a pretty crap world.
Flora’s head turned and she gave a little wave and then stopped, her hand suspended in midair as she took in the scene beneath her. “I’m coming—” She vanished and moments later was sprinting across the lawn toward Izzy and Molly.
Thank goodness, was all Izzy could think. Later, she was sure her insecurities would bubble over, but right now she was just relieved not to have to handle this on her own.
“What happened?” Flora knelt down beside her. “Hey, Molly, what’s wrong, sweetie? Has she been stung or something? Is she in pain?”
Molly clung to Izzy, her fingernails digging in Izzy’s flesh.
Izzy didn’t know about her sister, but she was in plenty of pain.
She gritted her teeth and tried not to yell “ow.” Her sister seemed determined to damage the few parts of her that weren’t already aching after the horse-riding.
Flora was rubbing Molly’s arms. “Did she fall? Hurt herself?”
“No. She just doesn’t want to go swimming. Although why she couldn’t ju
st say that, I have no idea. It was only a suggestion. Molly, please stop crying.” Her head had been throbbing from the heat and the riding helmet. Now it was threatening to explode. She’d always assumed she’d get married and have kids at some point in her life, but she was starting to question that.
“She’s probably tired.” Flora sat down on the grass next to Molly. “You don’t have to swim if you don’t want to, Molly. You can swim tomorrow.”
“Don’t-want-to-swim-tomorrow.” Each word was punctuated with a jerky breath. “I don’t ever want to swim again!”
Izzy winced. Since when did her sister have such a loud and piercing voice? She was pretty sure their neighbors in Manhattan would have heard every word.
“Why don’t you want to swim, Moll? And why don’t you want me to swim?”
“Because you might drown and I don’t want you to die like Flora’s mommy.” She flung herself down on the grass and Izzy met Flora’s gaze above her sister’s sodden, heaving body.
She saw horror and guilt. Izzy was just relieved it wasn’t something she’d done.
“Oh Molly—” Flora rubbed the little girl’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I scared you.” She tugged Molly onto her lap, rocking her gently. “What happened to my mother wouldn’t happen to you.”
Molly sniffed and clung. “Why?”
Flora’s face was a whitish gray. She looked almost as upset as Molly. She looked at Izzy and her quick, reassuring smile was strained.
She doesn’t want to talk about it, Izzy thought, but then Flora settled herself more comfortably on the grass and did talk about it.
“My mother went swimming in deep water in the sea. And she didn’t have a life belt, or anyone with her. That isn’t what happens when you swim. You’re always with Izzy, or your daddy. You’re in your depth, and you have your floats.”
Molly scrubbed her face with her palm and peered at Flora. “But you don’t go swimming.”