by Anna Bloom
With a shrug, he pulls out a shallow cast iron skillet and cranks the knob on the ancient range.
I can’t stand the silence. With his back turned he feels like the man mountain again I once sat next to in a bar. “Henri,” I wrap my arms around his back, hugging him until he’s wearing me as a backpack, “That’s not what I meant.” Lies, they keep falling from my mouth.
That’s exactly what I meant—my silence said words I can’t.
Space hangs around us as he tips a ladle of mixture into the pan and then swirls it around. The whole time I cling to his back moving with the curve of his muscles. “Henri,” I say and tug him around, pulling his face down to mine, slanting my mouth against his until a shiver of unquenchable desire runs over my skin. Finally, he relents, wrapping me tight, folding me in and tucking me into the curves and grooves I still need to memorise. My heart beats wildly against my ribcage, my breath tighter and shallower until I’m breathless.
Strong fingers wind into my hair, holding me firm as his tongue probes, seeking me out. I let him in, no games to play in the moment, just an endless kiss to end all kisses. Soft, sweet, hard and intense, he switches the assault so I don’t know what’s coming one breath to the next. All I know is that I need his next move like a chess champion needs to protect his queen. I’d be Henri’s queen, forever his, and in the moment I am. Until he pulls away and shouts abruptly in his native tongue.
“What did you say?” I gasp, still reeling from the air he’s stolen straight from my lungs.
“I said the fucking pancakes.” With that he lurches around me and pulls the smoking pan from the heat, shouting more as his skin connects with the handle.
Then his eyes meet mine and I meet his and he reels me back in, laughing against my mouth despite the fact his hand must be agony and I’m pretty sure I’m in heaven. The thought makes tears slip into our kiss tanging our mouths with salt water that I know he can taste but doesn’t mention.
24
How long does it take to start the day?
What heaven tastes like is Henri’s skin slicking against mine, pushing me against water splattered tiles, warm water beating down on our heads, mixing with our kiss the way the London rain once did.
“Julia,” he breathes against my throat, kissing his way across my skin. One hand lifts, cupping a tit and giving a gentle squeeze that makes me moan, water flooding my mouth as I tilt my head with my gasp. Kissing down between my cleavage, he lowers to his knees as I lean against the shower wall for support, his hands splaying my ribcage down to my hips, holding all the womanly parts of me with a true reverence. It shines in his eyes, makes me burn with a burst of life that ripples under my skin, kickstarts my pulse, and makes me want to fight for every damn breath. Tilting my hips, his fingers slip around me and knead my ass; his fingers are someplace between heaven and hell: hard, dexterous, working man’s hands that I’m willing to allow to take me apart. I whimper, closing my eyes, and they dip between my legs, pushing my thighs open from behind. Glancing down, I meet his gaze, his devilish grin as he leans closer and plants a kiss lightly on my heat.
God, this man. On his knees worshiping me. A dark need flickers in my belly. Hot and intense it tells me to take it all, everything this man has to give. Leaning back, I surrender to him and run my fingers through his hair as he makes me forget everything apart from this very moment.
Wrapped in a towel I hesitate at the en suite door. He frowns, a towel draped from his narrow hips like a masterpiece, water dripping from his shaggy waves down his golden skin. “What’s wrong?”
“Is Simone going to be sitting on the bed again, ‘cause I have to say, I’d find that weird after the noise you’ve just made me make.”
His smile wolfs into a smirk. “Why would she be on the bed?”
My face contorts and I watch it in the mirror, but then I’m also staring at his back muscles, which truly I don’t think I’ve studied enough yet. With a shake of his head, he sighs. “She’s lonely.”
“But she doesn’t go to school?”
I don’t know how we’ve gone from shower sex to talking about his niece in the space of moments, but clearly the Simone situation is odd and needs to be dealt with, and the truth is, I want to help him. I know I’m not staying, can’t stay; this life isn’t for me, but I want to play a role in Henri’s life no matter how small.
“She should go to school. All children need interaction with others their age.”
“Maman doesn’t want to confuse her, because sometimes she goes to Paris too.”
“Well, I don’t want to sound too stern, but it has to be one or the other. Either she is here settled and in school, or in Paris. She can’t just wait around without a clear routine.”
I sound like my father, I can hear him echoing in my ears, all children should have a routine, be taught to achieve, to have a role to play.
Blah blah blah.
“Okay, ignore me. I don’t think I actually mean that.”
Henri’s frown deepens. “You’re repeating someone else’s words?”
“Yeah, just ignore me.”
“Non, you are right. Maman, she doesn’t cope well with upheaval right now.”
“I hate to be rude, Henri, but your father died eight months ago. And I know it was a shock, and it’s horrible to lose a loved one…”
“But you think she’s using it as an excuse?”
I shrug, tout français, “Who am I to say? I just got the impression last night at dinner that she wasn’t very approving of your trips to London, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s why you haven’t come back the last six weeks.”
“She needs me.”
“Of course, she does. But I think you need to think of yourself and your sister too, not just what your mother thinks.”
And that’s why I can’t allow myself to need him too. Not now. Not at this point of desperate complication.
“So,” I paint a bright smile on my face, chasing away the shadows of gloom that want to steal away these last few sunshine moments from my life, “Are we going to the beach or standing in the bathroom all day?”
“Beach.” That frown deepens. “If you’re well enough.”
“Well enough to lay on the beach all day and soak up vitamin D? I think I can handle it.” Handle it, crave it, need it like I need oxygen and a new heart.
“But if you want another shower…?” The frown finally lifts, and he gifts me with a beautiful smile. I’m taking that smile with me to the dark side.
“Sure, there’s enough hot water for how long I’d do that in the shower with you?”
With a broad laugh he pulls me in, playfully wrestling me against his firm body. Heat ripples over me again, an endless dry scorch that exists when I’m with him.
“Okay, we really need to get out of this bathroom.”
His own desire tents the towel, and he glances down chuckling. “Oui, we do.”
On the bed are two small fancy looking bags, shiny with chic writing. “What’s this?”
He drops the towel and I’m momentarily distracted from the shopping bags. That man is built and let there be no forgetting it. It’s porno heaven where I’m standing right now. All I need is some cheesy music and I’d be right in the zone.
“Things, for you.”
“Me?” Gah, now I’m torn between ‘things for me’ and porno heaven. “Did they magic their way here?” With a reluctant sigh, I step towards the bags leaving his beautifully carved body behind me. Let’s be sensible here, we do need to leave this room eventually. Otherwise, his mother will have more to say, and I would like to make it through the evening meal tonight.
“Non, I asked Odile to pick up some things for you.”
I can feel the blood drain from my face. “She came in, while we were in there,” I point to the bathroom, “And I was making that noise.”
Shooting me with a devilish grin he nods to the bags. “Look inside.”
“But wait. We need to talk about this. Is your room a
lways a free for all?”
He laughs and drills me with a really glance. So maybe this is how they do things in France? Deciding it’s not worth wasting precious moments on, I pounce on the small shopping bags. Mmm, they even feel expensive, a delicate scent of rose coming from inside. “For me?” I confirm.
“Yes.” I earn the cutest eye roll I’ve ever seen. “Are you not used to receiving gifts, ma petite?”
A lead weight drops in my stomach. “No, not really,” I answer honestly.
“Hmm, that will have to change.” Stepping closer, he lifts the remaining bag still on the bed. “Although I think this has become a bigger thing than the contents deserve. Next time I’ll make it spectacular.”
My familiar ice-cream scoop hollows me out, leaving me with that empty Henri-flavoured emptiness. “Next time, you’ll have to go to the shop yourself, non?” I mimic the lilt and melody of his speech earning a kiss under my ear.
“I’m ageing here, Julianna.”
Dipping my fingers inside, I scrunch them onto tissue paper, soft and crinkly. With a pout I pull it free of the small bag. It’s a masterpiece of wrapping and I’m reluctant to tear the careful folds, sighing in dismay as Henri grasps the pale pink folded package in his large hand and tears where a small heart-shaped sticker is keeping it all together. “Brute,” I grumble under my breath but sweeten it with a smile.
A gold bikini tumbles out, shining like a disco ball in the sunlight.
At least I think it’s a bikini. Not one like I’ve ever worn. “What is this?” I breathe out.
“Swimwear. You told me you didn’t pack any.”
It dangles in my fingers, four triangles and some elastic.
“So, I organised.”
“Organised some dental floss?” I lift it closer to my face.
“Dental floss?” His face clouds with confusion as he thinks this over for a moment. Finally, the clouds lift leaving a smile of pure sunshine behind. Leaning over, he snatches it out of my hands and inspects the triangle meant to cover a derrière.
“Well, ma petite, I do not know what you floss with.” He gives the elastic an approving ping. “You will look sensational in this; not that I plan on anyone else seeing you."
I can’t help but assess the bikini with scrutiny. “This is as foreign to me as the language you speak.” I state, which he must find amusing because he pulls me in and kisses the top of my head. “Now hurry, Julianna, otherwise it will be dark before we get there!”
He has a point. We’ve spent so long doing absolutely nothing that surely the day must be over. “Aren’t we too late for the beach now?” I ask, practically breathing a sigh of relief at not having to slink myself into bronzed triangles.
“Only if you're British and need to lay your towel down on the sand to secure your space.” He winks.
Ha bloody ha!
“For the record it’s the German's that started that trend.”
“Sure, ma petite, now get changed.”
“But what about the other bag?” I ask. With a deafening sigh he tips the contents out onto the bed.
“Oh.” I give a little sigh of my own as I pick up the slither of blue silk that’s pooled into a puddle on the bed.
“For dinner. I asked Odile to pick something up, I hope you don’t mind. I could sense you were uncomfortable in borrowed clothes.”
Honestly the dress was the least of my problems, but I've already put my foot in it enough for one day. Still, I can’t help but say, “Are we dining with your mother tonight?” Why is it impossible to say these words without an inflection of dread?
A quirked smile greets my question. “Non, tonight I am taking you to town.”
My heart soars and sinks at the same time.
“Henri...” with a gentle finger he lifts my chin.
“I know, you have to take it easy.”
“Sorry.” I wince.
“No need.”
Turning, I pick up the dress. It’s the same deep blue of his eyes. There’s also a cream kaftan in the bag, I assume to go with my bikini. “She likes to shop, I guess?” I motion to the boutique bags.
“More than you like to get dressed. Now please, as gorgeous as you are in just a towel, the bikini is better for the beach.”
I salute and then gather up my new belongings ready to turn for the bathroom. Henri catches my arm. “No. Get dressed here.”
With resolute purpose he drops to the mattress of the bed and watches me with smoky eyes and a teasing smirk.
Yep, the chances of us getting to the beach at all are very, very, slim.
Very slim indeed.
It’s only an hour later when we are on a blanket hidden in sand dunes, the sound of the sea lulling me to sleep. The warmth of the sun on my skin is almost magic, all my limbs becoming soft, loose at the limbs. Tiny balls of sandy glass rub my skin with the lazy trail of his fingers.
Henri is hot as hell in swim shorts—I’d breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of budgie smugglers. As much as I know he’s packing down there, it’s still no excuse for wearing speedos.
In a bid to protect my pale beauty—his words not mine—he’s anointed me in factor fifty, but really, I think he just wanted to give me an orgasm in public as he pretended to apply sun cream to my back while his other hand slipped between my legs proving just how skimpy this bikini is.
One to add to the bucket list.
I must have fallen asleep because I wake to the low murmur of his voice speaking English. “I promise she is fine.”
There’s a pause as he listens to the other side of the phone.
“Just tired last night. More so than the travelling accounted for. Don’t worry, I’m looking after her.”
Liv. She must have called again.
He clears his throat and through my lashes I can see that serious expression on his face that looks like he’s been carved from the finest marble. “What am I missing here, Olivia?”
Please don’t tell him.
Please don’t tell him.
I don’t know how I’m going to say goodbye yet but somehow, I have to be the one to do it, I know that much.
“Okay, fine, I understand.”
There’s another pause.
“I promise you she’s in the best of hands. She means a lot to me, Olivia. Perhaps you can relax, no, knowing that someone else cares as much as you?”
My heart beats wildly in my chest. A lump the size of a mountain in my throat.
All the thoughts of end-of-life care slip away as I consider living in the moment with him at my side.
How can this possibly be the end when all I want is it to be our beginning?
He hangs up, sitting on the sand, tan legs bent, my phone gently cradled in his grasp. I get up, ignoring the rush of blood to my head, the black spots that tell me I should lay down a little longer, and press myself against his broad back.
“How many steps to the sea?” I whisper in his ear, lips brushing his sun-warmed skin.
“Climb on.”
25
Truths by candlelight
Despite only travelling in Henri’s car with the hood down to the beach, then lying on the sand, when we get back at five I fall face first on the bed, feeling Henri staring at me. “I’ll cancel dinner,” he murmurs as he tugs the thick curtains shut.
“No, I’ll be fine.” It’s a lie right now, but I’ll make it happen.
From his spot at the curtains, he turns and analyses me. “Julia, just sleep. I’ll get the kitchen to make us something light for supper and we can eat on the patio here.”
“No!” I’m talking into the darkness of my now closed eyelids. I can’t keep them open. In the back of my mind, I’ve got a vague thought that there is no way I’d be able to feel like this at work. It would be me fucking up the print run, not Rebecca, and I would literally rather die than let that be the case. Along with this thought is another, far darker, that I will need to tell Rebecca I won’t be coming back.
I can feel it now.
Henri explodes forward and I strain to look at him. “For fuck’s sake, what is happening here?” Falling to the mattress, he clutches my hand and lifts it to his mouth, brushing his lips across the surface.
“I’m just tired.”
Satirical Weekly, I wish you a fond farewell, but I think our love affair is over.
A gentle tug at my sandals brings me back from my scattered thoughts and I dig deep to sit up a little, finding Henri pulling off my sandals. “Too… tired… for that.” I shoot him a sleepy wink. Mainly because I’ve been orgasmed out at the beach. Hell, if this is living, I’ve been doing it bloody wrong. Let that fact be written as a lesson for other women the world over.
“I’m chivalrous, remember, Julianna, not an animal.”
To my surprise he kicks off his sliders and brushes the sand from his glorious calves—which reminds me I must remember to ask him how he keeps his body like that before I leave—and climbs into bed beside me, spooning me tight in his arms like a precious silver teaspoon from the fanciest of cutlery canteens.
“Don’t you have to… check the herd?” I’m pretty sure he mentioned that on the way home. The cocoon of his embrace pulls me under, makes my exhausted body leech what little juice I have left.
His silence meets my questions, his arms tight, fingers brushing the hair from my face. “Shh.”
I can see the end. It’s a bright warmth that is tugging me along, one chink at the time. If I was to go now, would I be happy? Satisfied with the life I’ve now lived? Five months of startling existence to counter a world of grey.
Yeah, I’d be happy.
Despite the lack of space in my chest, the shallow breath I fight to hide, my heart is glowing with the heat of the sun.
“I’m so glad I met you,” I whisper into the shadowy haze.
His arms tighten a notch. “I’m never letting you go. You’re magic, ma petite. Magic that makes my heart sing.”
Tears sting my eyes. “Henri, can you get my phone?”
He groans into my neck. “For you, anything.” Despite his reticence he peels himself away from me and pads over barefoot to my straw holiday bag, fishing out my phone and then pacing back, slipping back under the covers still dressed like me. I take my offered phone, quickly clicking on messages and shooting one to Liv.
