Wait. Does Leo want to have sex with me?
I risk lifting my focus from the side of his face to direct eye contact, and yes, yes that’s exactly what I think Leo wants.
Holy fuck. But I can’t. I’m married—well, no, I’m separated. And Kevin is likely off somewhere doing God knows what with whomever he pleases, so it’s not as if I’m not allowed to have sex. No one is stopping me. It’s just…oh my God, is this actually happening?
I shift my gaze to the tip of his nose. It’s easier to look at someone when you’re feeling a little thrown if you focus on some other facial feature.
“I, uh, I don’t know when I’m coming back,” I say. My mind’s running like a fat little hamster on a wheel.
“You’re leaving for good?” His expression changes and he looks a little hurt, maybe just disappointed. “I thought—”
“I know.” The only thing I do know in this moment is that I’m ruining this. I’m throwing up walls without actually considering this could be real—that Leo Murphy, Australian rugby royalty, could actually be interested in little old me. I’ll probably do what I do best and run away instead. It seems to work quite well for me these days. “I’ll have to get the kids properly settled after I tell them…well, you know what I have to tell them. We’ve got a bit of adjusting to do before we can come back again.”
“I get it.” He nods, and I know from our previous conversations that he really does get that I need to focus on my kids, but that doesn’t stop his expression from visibly closing off.
We stand there awkwardly for a moment then I lift a hand and point towards his front door “I should probably go.” Leo lifts his brow but doesn’t move. “OK. Thanks for dinner. And, um, thanks for everything else.”
“My pleasure,” he says.
“Was it? Really?” I ask, studying him a little closer, because I feel like I’m leaving and I’m messing this up. Like, if I don’t find out what’s behind this tension right now, it’ll haunt me for the rest of time. And when I do finally bring the kids back to see Nana, he’ll have moved on to the next pretty little thing and there really will be nothing here. I’m rambling, I know. But I’ve been drinking, and time is ticking, and a thousand other things…
A smile quirks one side of his mouth. “Yes, Darcy. You are a pleasure to be around.”
“I am? I really don’t get that sense from most people. I often feel like I’m annoying and in the way.”
“You really aren’t.” He’s smiling fully now.
“Are you sure? Because you seem a little annoyed, and I don’t want to leave with you being annoyed with me.”
His expression shifts again, softening this time, and he relaxes his stance, unfolding his arms and holding a hand out to me. “Come here for a second.”
I look from his hand to his face. “Why?”
He laughs. “Humour me, Darcy. I want to try something.”
Slipping my hand into his, I step a little closer. “Try what?”
With a gentle tug of my hand, he pulls me towards him and kisses me.
My eyes go wide with surprise, and I register that his are filled with mirth, but when he wraps one of his hands around the side of my neck, the energy of the moment changes and suddenly I’m melting against him, hands on his broad chest, a sigh against his lips. His thumb moves against my cheek, his fingers tangle in my hair, and his mouth takes control of mine, tongue probing gently as it pushes inside. Then as quickly as it started, it stops and he’s pulling back and looking into my eyes. “Just as I thought.”
“What?” That totally came out as a breathy whisper.
“You taste like pizza,” he says, his tongue snaking out to lick his lips.
I was expecting something a little romantic like, “Just as I thought, you’re an amazing kisser.” Well, hopefully better than that. I’m shit at all this romance stuff, but you know what I mean. I thought he’d make a comment about my lips being soft or the intensity of the moment. Not that I taste like pizza. Still, his response does get a laugh out of me.
“So cheesy,” I joke, giving his chest a playful shove as I roll my eyes. “Now I’m really going.”
I step out of his embrace, a huge smile on my face because a kiss from a hot guy, no matter what your age, is a smile-inducing thing.
“Don’t stay away too long.” What the hell am I doing walking away?
I get about two steps before I turn back to him. “Actually, I think I want to try something too.”
He grins as I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around his neck, our mouths colliding in hungry passion. His hands go to my waist then up my back and down to my arse, all the while crushing me against his strong body in a possessive hold.
“Wow,” I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair as we come up for breath.
“Is that what you were hoping for?” His fingers press firmly into my arse cheeks.
I nod. “I think we should maybe test it one more time.”
“Just to make sure,” he whispers in agreement as he tightens his hold around me, caging me with his arms.
I nod again and then his mouth is back on mine and his hands are roaming and our bodies are so close I can feel his growing need. It startles me as much as it spurs me forward, moaning in his arms, fingers twisting into his shirt and his hair as I kiss him harder, needing him closer.
The gut-wrenching hurt and confusion I’ve been feeling drifts away the more we kiss, replaced with a carnal desire that might just be a Band-Aid to my pain. But in this moment, it feels like all that matters. I want to lose myself to this feeling and think about it later. For once in my life, I want to forget about what I should do. For one moment, I want to feel free.
“I think I need to see your bedroom,” I gasp, pulling his shirt free from his jeans and pushing it up his chest.
“Are you sure?” he asks while I’m lifting my arms so he can pull my shirt up over my head.
“Yes.” I pull at my bottom lip with my teeth as I look up at him. “There’s something else I want to try.”
“Jumping on my bed?” He grins as his heated gaze roams over my body. I’m in my bra and a pair of capris. There’s no lace on my bra. I wasn’t expecting something like this. It’s just a basic beige mum bra, and instead of feeling self-conscious when he unhooks me, I’m glad to have that thing off my body. His eyes drink me in like I’m some delectable treat.
“Something like that.” I laugh a little as my fingers work at his fly. We’re kissing and laughing bumping and knocking our way down the hall to the main bedroom. His mouth and his hands are roaming, and I’m moaning and thinking I might combust if we don’t do this soon. It’s obviously been far too long for me. Far too long and—no, I don’t want to go there. Not now, not while this beautiful man’s hands and mouth are on my body. Focus on the moment, Darcy.
We fall on the bed in a tangle, laughing when something sounds like maybe it broke beneath us. Then we’re shucking our pants and getting naked as fast as we can, touching and kissing the entire time. We’re caught up in this frenzy because if we take even a moment to pause and consider what we’re doing, we might think better of it and decide it’s a terrible idea. Which it probably is, but I can’t let my mind go there. I need this. I need this moment where I feel wanted. I need to chase away those sexual ghosts as Nana put it.
“I want you inside me now,” I gasp as he sucks lightly against my neck.
“And I want inside, believe me, I do. But, I’m thinking—”
I press my body against his length, rolling my hips. “Don’t think, Leo. Feel.”
“Are you sure about this?” Leo asks as he pulls a condom from his side drawer.
“Positive,” I say, leaning up on my elbows, watching as he rolls it down his hard length. It’s the first moment we stop since we started, and we’re panting and feeling a little crazy. A minute ago we were just friends saying goodbye and now we’re in his bed, and I’m staring at a rather impressively sized cock. “I want this.” I need thi
s.
Bringing his mouth to mine, he kisses me as he positions himself at my entrance and pushes inside. I moan because it’s wonderful to feel so full, and my eyes roll back as my fingers press into his skin. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper and deeper, so close to release. But then I notice he’s taking his weight more on one side, favouring his good leg.
“Your knee,” I gasp while my body sparks and crackles like a livewire.
“I’m OK.” He leans down and sucks my nipple into his mouth and I just about yip from pleasure.
“No. Roll over,” I tell him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“As you wish,” he says, wrapping an arm around my waist then rolling so I’m flipped on top. We laugh through the sudden shift, bringing our mouths together a moment before our bodies start moving again.
“There we go,” I say, brushing my lips against his as I rock my hips over him. Oh my lord, he feels so incredibly good. Closing my eyes, I place my hands on his chest, loving the firm bulge of his pecs beneath my palms. I take him all, grinding at his base as I let my head hang back, my longish hair brushing against my shoulder blades, every nerve ignited, ready for what comes next.
And that’s when things get a little wild. Well, wild for me, anyway.
I press up on my knees and slide back down his shaft, moaning from the sensation. My God, I’ve missed this. He’s a great fit, so it feels amazing, and taking control only allows me to take him in on the perfect angle, hitting me in that special spot for optimum pleasure.
“Holy fuck this feels good,” I pant.
“You’re telling me.”
Blame it on the wine. Blame it on my recently broken heart. But I have zero inhibitions. I call out my pleasure, tell him how fucking sexy I think he is while I dig my nails into his chest then lean down and kiss him, biting his lip (and possibly drawing blood) at one point. Then I lean back, placing my hands behind me to alter the angle, which opens me up enough that he uses his thumb to rub against my clit, sending me over the edge in a howling gasping mess that has me…
Oh God. I’m not sure I can relay this accurately because I really don’t know what comes over me at this point. I grab a hold of my breasts and shove them up so high that I can lick my own nipple as I come. I suck the damn thing into my mouth and swirl my tongue around it and I completely lose myself in the pleasure of it. In the moment, it feels like that hottest thing I’ve ever done, but when the orgasmic shudders subside and reality sets in, it turns out I’m just a forty-year-old woman sitting on top of her Nan’s next-door neighbour, holding her tits up about her neck and looking foolish. I feel absolutely ridiculous.
“Wow,” Leo gasps, placing his hands on my thighs, running his fingers up and down. “That was—”
“I should go.” I frown and release my tits. They bounce twice, well, it’s not a bounce exactly, more a double tug as gravity takes them back to where it’s dragged them over the years. Then I place my hands on his chest and rock my body to the side, climbing off him. His dick causes a popping sound as it leaves my body and it’s anything but dainty.
I need to go. I need to go. I need to go.
“Darcy, you don’t have to leave. In fact, I’d like it if you stayed.”
I’m up already and shaking my head, picking up my underwear and pants and pulling them on while trying to rake my hands through my hair to straighten it out. “The kids will be back soon. I need to be there for them. Where’s my bra?”
“The hall,” he says as he pulls the sheet across his waist and sits up, watching me carefully.
“The hall. Of course. Thanks,” I say, breathless, confused, conflicted. The sex was…amazing. But my instincts are telling me to get out, to run away. This is crazy. I’m not ready to be in another man’s bed. I was just dumped for heaven’s sake. What was I even thinking?
I don’t know what to do, so I turn away and head down the hall. Just being out of Leo’s bedroom and collecting my clothes feels better than lying next to a man—who is not my husband—in post-coital glow. It’s possible I’m freaking out a little. This is so out of character for me.
“Darce?”
I don’t want to go back in there. I want to skulk away, drive back home, then only ever visit Nana on the days when I’m sure Leo won’t be home. But since I’m no coward—or maybe I am and I’m just a glutton for punishment—I poke my head back through the door as I pull my shirt over my head. “Yeah?”
“Are we OK?”
Giving him a bright smile, I tuck my shirt into my capris (which is another thing I never do) and nod. “Yeah, Leo. We’re fine. Great, actually. I just…I…ah.”
“You have to go,” he supplies.
And suddenly, I stop rushing and realise how awful I’m being. “I do. And I’m sorry, Leo. Really I am.”
He gives me one of those accepting, understanding nods. “It’s OK, Darcy. I get it.”
“Thank you,” I say in a relieved rush. He really is a great guy. And maybe, maybe when I get over my current embarrassment, I’ll be able to be in the same room as him again. Perhaps in a month or two? But when my brain decides to throw up the image of the whole nipple-sucking moment, I close my eyes and wince, changing my assessment to maybe ten years or never. I can’t see myself getting over this one quickly. “So yeah. I’m going to go now. Thank you for dinner and the, uh…” I wave my hand at the bed.
“The sex?” he offers, his brow raised, but at least he’s smiling now.
It reduces the tension in the room, and I laugh a little. It’s high-pitched and uncomfortable. “Yeah. The sex was great. You’re really good at it, by the way.” I give him a thumbs up. A thumbs up.
Kill me now.
He chuckles at my awkwardness. “So are you.”
“Thanks. So, uh, I guess I’ll be seeing you.”
He nods. “Goodbye, Darcy.” It sounds so final when he says it like that. I get all tight in my chest.
“OK. Goodbye, Leo.” I hesitate for about half a second then get the hell out of there as fast as I possibly can, trying not to freak out and start banging my head on his refrigerator before I make it to the front door.
I just had sex with another man. A new man. A man who isn’t my husband. And while logically, I know that’s fine for me to do, I’m still a little messed up by the reality of it. When I said ‘I do’ at my wedding, I meant everything that came with it. And now, those vows, all those years…they mean nothing. This break-up is really happening. My marriage is over. I’m officially a statistic. And while I understood it was over before now, it’s only just fully sinking in.
NINE
LEO
Dropping my head against the pillow, I cover my face with my hands. Fuck.
That wasn’t what I was expecting.
I wanted to kiss her, yeah. She was talking like she might never come back, and for the first time in many years, I didn’t want the connection I had with someone to be momentary. Ever since Tash and I divorced, I’ve kept my relationships casual and physical. It isn’t that I was afraid of letting someone into my life again, I simply didn’t want to. One long-term relationship and a divorce was about as much as this guy could handle, thank you very much. In the beginning, the idea of juggling rugby, fighting to see my son and keeping a functional relationship going on top of that felt like more trouble than it was worth. I trained, I played, I spent time with Niall and when the need arose, there was always a girl ready and willing.
Did I whore around for a while after my divorce? Hell yeah, I did. I think any guy in my position would. But like all things, those meaningless encounters lost their attraction and I opted for casual relationships instead. Even when I hit my late thirties and football was over, I still wasn’t willing to bring another woman into my life. Niall and I were growing further apart, Tash was being more difficult than ever, and my mother had taken ill. I didn’t have time for myself let alone someone else. I kept things simple and honest, and when that didn’t work anymore, I said goodbye and mov
ed on. Somewhere along the line, I stopped those kinds of encounters too. And before I could decide what I wanted next, Darcy showed up.
Clumsy, crazy (the good kind) and quick to laugh, her visits quickly became the best part of my days. Esme had often spoken of her like she was some ethereal being, sent into the world to allow everyone around her to bathe in her light. These conversations often came about after an evening spent sharing a joint, and I always thought Ez was just letting the happy-making endorphins colour her words. Darcy sounded too good to be true. A free spirit who loved hard and exhibited unwavering loyalty; did such a person even exist outside of fiction? I didn’t believe it for a second, but it sure sounded good.
Now that I’ve met her—the real-life messy version of her—I want more. While she isn’t some ethereal being, she definitely does have this light inside her. It’s dim at the moment, damaged by the shit her husband has put her through, but I can see it, lighting up her eyes, making her a pleasure to be around. She makes me feel good again, makes me want to believe that she is the woman Esme said she was. The more time I spent with her, the more I could see the truth in it. She stood by a man who I feel has used and abused his situation, taken advantage of her kindness, and placed bruises all over her heart with his mishandling. She’s a treasure, and if I’m one hundred percent honest with myself, I kissed her because I wanted to give her a reason to return. Maybe it’s that superman complex I’m told I have, but I want to show her how a man is supposed to treat a woman like her.
Love is a Beach: a romantic comedy Page 6
