by JC Harroway
‘Morning.’ With her awake, my cock reminds me I’ve been staring at Mia for the last five minutes, noticing things about the woman in my bed. Like the fact her lips move while she sleeps, as if she’s mumbling in her dreams. The honeysuckle scent of her is strongest in her hair, as if it comes from her shampoo, and I notice she has faint tan lines on her shoulders. My hand curls over her naked hip and I draw her closer.
‘Hi.’ Her voice croaks. She’s warm and sleepy and I can’t stop myself nuzzling her soft-skinned neck. ‘How long have you been awake?’ she asks on a small, sexy hum.
‘Not long.’ I brush my mouth over hers and she softens next to me, a small sigh escaping. ‘I was trying to count your freckles.’
She covers her face with her hand, groaning. I tug her hand away and kiss the end of her nose. ‘They’re cute.’
‘No woman wants to hear she’s cute.’
‘Doesn’t she?’ I touch the tip of my finger to her cheek, tracing a path one freckle at a time. ‘Well, your freckles fascinate me. Like I could join the dots and discover something new about you.’ Her fingers on the bed between us begin their habitual fluttering.
I lift her fidgeting hand to my mouth and press each overworked fingertip to my lips, kissing each one in turn until her hand falls completely slack in mine. She’s wide-eyed when I’m finished, her irresistible lips parted.
Wordlessly I cup her face, press my mouth to hers and push her hair back. She kisses me, my mind blanking to everything but how good she feels and how glad I am that she spent the night. But I can’t fully enjoy this until I make amends.
‘I owe you an apology.’ She moves to speak but I press a fingertip against her lips. ‘At the party, I... I crossed a line, suggesting you search for your parents.’
She doesn’t want to talk about this—I sense her withdrawing. I flex my fingers on her hip, trying to convey that there’s more to come. ‘It’s just that I understand what it’s like to feel...uncertain, helpless.’
Her eyes cling to mine, the tiny shake of her head her only movement. She’s even holding her breath. Her hand strokes my back. Is she even aware she’s doing that?
‘When Laura collapsed, I was the only other person there. We were in the middle of nowhere, hiking the Banda Api volcano on one of Indonesia’s Spice Islands.’ I don’t know why I’m telling her this, but I can’t stop. ‘One minute she was talking, laughing,’ tension pounds at my temples, ‘the next minute she was on the ground, unconscious.’ My swallow burns my throat. ‘She never woke up.’
‘Kit, I’m so sorry.’
I plough on. I can’t give Mia much, but I can give her answers, and perhaps the wisdom of my experience. ‘A month later I signed the paperwork to switch off her life-support machine. I guess the reason I said what I did at the party, the reason I’m telling you this now, is that you already have so much love in your life, but there’s room for more. You deserve more.’
This time when she kisses me it’s different, her mouth slow, soft, hesitant. I kiss her back, my eyes on hers as I draw all I can from the melding of our mouths. It feels like the first time.
An exploration.
A lesson in the real Mia.
And, for the first time, a possibility.
Our kisses don’t stay exploratory for long. Soon she’s writhing against me, her nails digging into my shoulders.
‘Kit...’ I hear the silent plea in the catch of her voice.
I fumble for a condom while she slides kisses over my face, my throat and my chest.
When I push inside her she arches up to meet me, her head thrown back on the pillow and her neck exposed. My fingers link with hers, our stares locked as I rock into her, setting a rhythm that’s slow and lazy—everything that’s perfect about sleepy morning sex. The breakfast of champions. I’d forgotten.
But as I loom over Mia, lost in her stare and her tightly clamping heat and covered in her honeysuckle scent, growing unease creeps up my spine to settle between my shoulder blades like a crop of nettle rash.
I want to see her again. I’m not ready for goodbye and something in her eyes, in the way she trusts me with her body, conceding to my control, tells me she’d be open to the idea. If only she can get past some of her demons. Surely the fact she stayed last night is progress?
Her fingers squeeze mine, digging into the backs of my hands.
I ramp up my thrusts, lost to the pleasure. Mia’s eyes widen, her moans growing in frequency and volume. I cover one nipple with my mouth, sucking hard, and she clamps around my length, tightening my balls, my belly, my thighs, and I wince, gritting my control back into submission.
She stares up at me, panting, flushed and so fucking beautiful that I forget how to breathe.
‘Say you’ll come back, one day...to London.’
The command comes from an unconscious corner of my mind, but I’m not sorry the words are out.
‘Kit... I...’
I grind harder, adding a swivel to my thrusts that drags a cry from her and sees her wrapping her legs around my hips.
‘Say it, Mia. Give me something, this one thing.’ I’m a bossy, manipulative bastard, but she knows that about me. And all I want is words, a glimmer of hope that I might see her again.
Releasing one of her hands, I slide my fingers between us to press down on her clit. ‘Give it to me, Mia, tell me what I want to hear.’ I’ll take nothing less than her orgasm and her promise.
She nods, whimpers, already there. ‘Yes—I’ll come back one day.’ She grips my arm like she’s on the top of a cliff and cries out, her muscles clamping down on me. Her words fill my chest, leaving no room for air. With my head oxygen-deprived and this beautiful, brave woman clinging to me, I join her and let go.
I’m not sure how long it goes on—years, it feels like. Eventually, my hips still and I lift my face from the crook of her neck, releasing the strands of her hair that have become trapped in my stubble, and slide my mouth over hers until our breathing settles.
Mia smiles up at me, a flicker of sadness in her eyes, and my pulse hits the roof again.
She’s braver than me and smarter, because it’s clear she knows before I’ve had a chance to realise that, if the request was reversed, I wouldn’t be able to make her any promises.
I have no appetite, but we shower and I take Mia for breakfast while I battle the knowledge that I’m the biggest hypocrite on the planet.
* * *
After breakfast Mia forgoes a tour of the vineyard and the wine-tasting I’ve organised. It’s a perfect Jersey morning and she’s buzzed to do some filming. Mia sets up her tripod for some panoramic shots of the estate, which is surrounded by gently sloping hills adorned with parallel rows of vines, and I leave her to walk Bob on the beach again.
I’d hoped to find answers, solace, some kind of sign with the sound of the sea drowning out my doubts and turmoil. But nothing helpful materialises. Bob senses my distraction, bounding up to me time and time again until I resume our pebble-throwing game. Mia is right—dogs are always happy to see you, whether you deserve it or not.
And I most certainly don’t. I kick at a half-buried pebble. I’m selfish. I haven’t told Mia that Laura and I frequently came here. We never stayed at the hotel, preferring to rent a house near by, but we walked Bob on this beach.
The relentless rhythm of the tide kidnaps my stare, sucking me into a trance. Will I ever be free of regret? Intellectually, I know there was nothing I could have done to save Laura, aside from not selfishly dragging her to the middle of nowhere in search of...what? Another thrill, world domination of the luxury-travel industry? I didn’t put the aneurysm in her head. But I did drag her all over the globe. And I couldn’t save her, no matter how hard I tried. That feeling—that nothing you do, or have, or say, or promise makes one bit of difference—is a kick in the gut. And the reason I’ve successfully steered my life and my f
eelings away from risk these past three years.
Until now.
Until Mia.
I wince, thinking of our earlier conversation. I’m in no position to challenge her self-belief, to offer her anything beyond a continuation of what we have now, no matter what I might want.
Is that enough for her? A one-sided commitment, without a single guarantee...
Bob’s smooth, damp muzzle finds my hand, nudging me back to the moment. ‘Yes, time to go.’
Bob senses our direction and bounds ahead up the cliff path. He must catch the scent of a rabbit or something, because he pauses near the top to sniff at the grass, allowing me time to catch up. When we round the headland, the estate comes into view and I spot Mia. My renewed hope surges.
Perhaps, in time, we could have more.
She’s walking backwards, a fair distance away from where I left her, a large remote control in her hands. I look where she’s looking and spy the drone she’s operating as it circles the estate.
Bob must see her too. He takes off at full pelt in her direction, clearly still buzzed from all the attention he’s been getting lately.
I yell and wave, but she’s concentrating and likely deaf to my call, which is whipped out to sea.
Oblivious to our approach, Mia focuses on the sky, still slowly backing up while she manipulates the drone. From my angle, she’s straying perilously close to the cliff edge. Only two years ago someone fell just along the coast—a serious accident that left the tourist paralysed. There are warning signs posted at regular intervals along the cliff top—has she ignored them? Why didn’t she wait for me to return, to help her out?
Icy fingers climb my spine.
Fuck. She’s too independent, too...reckless. The bridge, the rap jump and now this...
I call again, my pace increasing, but then she turns, spots me and smiles.
‘Be careful!’ I point to the edge.
Mia returns her attention to the drone, shaking her head as if I’m overreacting. Is she blind? Oblivious? Or just tossing my concern back in my face as if this is some sort of game...? After I confided in her, told her about Laura...
The rage from the day of the rap jump returns, powering through me, stronger, more immediate and white-hot.
Mia’s still ignoring me. Still ignoring her immediate surroundings.
My stomach rolls in a familiar lurch and I start to run.
Bob is ahead of me, bounding towards Mia. She spots him, but instead of stopping what she’s doing she grins and adjusts the flight path of the drone, steering it our way to capture Bob running.
I call him to heel but I’m too far away.
Mia’s still backing towards the cliff edge.
Bob skids up beside her, breaking her concentration. She sidesteps, losing her balance as she tries to avoid the excitable dog. The remote control hits the ground, she calls out and then disappears from view, over the edge of the cliff.
I’m sprinting before I’ve even registered the cry in my head, muscles tight with frustration because they won’t work as quickly as I need them to. Bob’s peering over the edge, his tail wagging, flooding my brain with hope, even as the adrenaline screaming through me sweeps all else aside.
As I reach Bob, I drop to my knees and crawl the last few feet to peer over the edge.
She’s on her side turned away from me on a ledge about six feet below. The cliff in this area is stepped and gently sloping, not the sheer drop of other areas. The relief of seeing her paralyses me. ‘Mia!’ I yell, my throat on fire.
She moves, gingerly pushing herself into a sitting position. She holds up one hand in my direction, the other gripping her side. ‘I’m fine.’
Her voice is strangled, hoarse, as if she can’t draw in a full breath.
‘Stay still, I’m coming to help you.’ It’s not as steep as I first feared. Hopefully she slid most of the way down. But it’s far enough of a drop for her to have done some damage...a broken rib, a punctured lung, a ruptured spleen...
‘I’m fine.’ She turns to me, trying to laugh it off, but then winces and gasps as she holds her side.
‘Don’t move.’ My heart pounds as nausea swirls in my gut. I slide down beside her, telling Bob to stay. She’s covered in dust, her face pale with shock or perhaps pain. I cup her cheeks, demanding her eyes. ‘Where does it hurt?’
Another gasp as she tries to sit up straight. ‘My ribs.’
I lift her T-shirt. There’s already a bruise forming the size of my hand.
‘I’m okay—think they’re just bruised. I slid over that rock.’ She scrambles to her knees.
I slide my hands over her arms and shoulders. ‘Did you hit your head?’ Her hands are a bit scraped up, but there’s no blood and she seems to be breathing fine, if a little shallowly.
She shakes her head, batting my hands away. ‘I don’t think so.’ She looks around, presumably for her remote control.
By the time I’ve helped her to scramble back up to where Bob is waiting, my adrenaline has drained away to nothing and I can no longer hold in my rage.
‘You could have been killed.’ My voice is calm. How am I achieving that?
She laughs, wincing again. And then she spies her remote control, lying on the ground. ‘Shit!’ Her eyes scan the property, searching. ‘My drone.’
I reach for the remote first to stop her bending. ‘It’s not funny. All you’re worried about is your damned equipment.’
She laughs. ‘I’m fine. It’s just a few bruised ribs. Stop overreacting.’
Overreacting...?
I swallow down the worst of the impotence pounding through me, trying to rein in the sense of déjà vu. ‘Overreacting...? I told you to be careful. To look at the signs.’
Her eyes flash my way. ‘I’d seen the signs. It was an accident—my foot slipped.’
I grit my teeth and shake my head. I can’t stop my judgement, my chastisement. It’s like pus in a wound—it needs to be vented. ‘So fucking reckless! Filming near the edge of a cliff? Why didn’t you wait for me—I could have been here, helped you, looked out for you?’
‘I didn’t need help and I’m perfectly fine.’ She sets off for the winery, her gait lopsided with a slight limp, despite her assertions. When we get back to the hotel I’ll check her out more thoroughly, and ask the staff to summon a local doctor.
I reach for her elbow and walk beside her, providing a crutch. ‘You need to see a doctor—you may have a concussion.’ She’s still scanning the grounds in search of her blasted drone, as if nothing else matters—her safety, my concerns, the stuff I’ve told her about Laura.
‘I don’t need a doctor, Kit. I’ve been in worse scrapes.’
No way. Concussion is notoriously sneaky. One minute you’re fine then next... I swallow hard, refusing to allow my thoughts down that particular path. ‘I’m not asking, Mia.’
She spins on me then, furious, and snatches her arm from my grip. ‘What are you going to do, Kit? Be there every day? Follow me around the world, just to ensure I stay safe?’ Her eyes blaze, full of truth.
She’s right. I taste acid.
If she trips next week or the week after, I won’t be there. By my choice. Because I can’t do that again—I can’t care so much. I know how much that pain flays. I barely survived last time.
I try to focus on the relief that she’s safe, rather than lifeless on the jagged rocks below, pressing my lips together rather than answer her accusation, while my temper simmers.
Mia looks away and then tilts her chin up to say, ‘I appreciate your concern, your help, but I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself and I can decide if and when I need medical attention.’
She looks away and swallows, as if she’s deciding how much to say. When she turns back, her guard is up again. ‘Look, I made some concessions for you, gave you the control you seemed t
o need, but that doesn’t mean you get all of me. It doesn’t mean you get to control my life, my choices, my—’
‘I’m not trying to control you...’
Am I though...? I brought her here... I told her about Laura...
She fists her hands on her hips. ‘You are. It’s control, change, suggesting improvements... Ever since the day I met you, you’ve tried to intimidate me, trussed me up in your designer clothes, invited me to spend time with your family, coerced me into...hand-holding and spending the night and...’ She breaks off and stomps away, picking up her drone from a flowerbed behind the hotel, one of its blades bent out of shape.
Then she spins back to face me. ‘This is over, Kit.’ She tilts her head, daring me to contradict. ‘Isn’t it? Despite what you said this morning. We’re a dead end. Time to admit it.’
I don’t want to do this now. I knew it was coming but...
I force some words out through my tight throat. ‘I don’t want to change you.’ Fuck, that’s the last thing I want. ‘And it doesn’t have to be over.’ The acidic words burn, because I know she’s right. I’m not free to always be there, I’m not free to make promises, even if I’ve selfishly dragged them from her.
Mia shakes her head. ‘We had fun, but you have to admit we’re too different.’
I start to speak—fuck knows what I’d been about to say. I don’t get the chance because Mia ploughs on, as if she’s had this speech ready prepared.
‘I need to deal with my own issues. That’s all I really have the energy for, right now. And so do you.’
She’s right. We both have unresolved issues, but...
With a sad little smile, one she slides from me to Bob and back again, she spins and heads for the hotel.
Stop her. Give her something...some reason to return.
I swallow the razor blades in my throat and grip the remote control until it digs into my palm. I should chase her, convince her there’s something to salvage. But what am I offering? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? A hook-up whenever she’s in town?
