by Kris Pearson
Mei sniffed. “I thought that was Bill Hughes. Old cops don’t lose the habit.”
“I think,” Ollie said slowly, “if Bill knew, then Kieran would have had a visit by now.”
“No visit,” she said. “Or not that I know.” She tried to pull away. “I’m sorry about the mess it made in your helmet.”
“Easy to clean,” Ollie said, releasing her with regret, however much he wanted to keep her close. “Those hand wipes work fine. Or baby wipes. Whatever.”
She looked past him out to the ocean. “No-one here to see me, anyway. Can we go for a walk?”
He offered a hand and was pleased when she took it while scrambling off the bike. “Helmet?”
She pulled it off and grimaced as she peered inside it again.
“Geez, stop worrying.” He locked both helmets to the bike’s handlebars and pocketed the key. “Or we can go further along, closer to the lighthouse if you’re worried about… him?”
Already gulls were gathering, wheeling through the air around them in their never-ending search for food, cawing and screaming in hope.
“Noisy things,” she said, gazing up at them, and then at the roughly grassed area by the road that led to the sand and the tumbling waves. “Looks fine for walking down there. He’ll never come this far.” She touched a hand to the side of her face. “I’ve been feeling trapped – by Kieran I guess, and now with you.” She flicked a glance across to him. “Sorry, but that’s the way it feels. I know you’re being incredible, agreeing to keep me hidden and then taking me back to Wellington, but still…”
“Yeah,” Ollie said, trying for a light and a rueful tone. “You’re stuck with me until sometime Monday. Would you feel better if you walked in one direction and I went the other?”
“What?” Her dark gaze fastened on his, and she gathered her hair into a ponytail and held it with one hand to stop the wind whipping it across her face. “No – of course not.” Kicking at a piece of driftwood that had found its way up from the shore, she added, “Maybe a dog’s been chasing this? Brought it up here to its owner.”
Ollie picked it up. “It’s bent like a boomerang. Reckon it’ll fly back to us?”
Mei shook her head, but a tiny smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. Her hair cascaded loose again as she wiped her forefingers under her eyes to smooth away the last of her tears.
Wondering why he’d ever suggested a boomerang, Ollie brought his arm back and heaved the curved piece of wood as hard as he could. It landed in the long line of tumbled seaweed and driftwood and other rubbish washed up by the sea.
“Not coming back,” Mei said unnecessarily. She stretched her neck and took a long deep breath. “So good to be out in the fresh air.”
“Away from him?”
She glanced across. “Away from him, away from work, away from my family.” She inhaled again.
Ollie watched her breasts rise under the red sweatshirt. “You get sick of the air in the planes?”
“No option but to breathe it, have I? Even when I come home I don’t get a lot of walking on the beach. Kieran liked me at the pub with him…”
Ollie clenched his jaw and hoped it didn’t show.
“…and my parents always put me to work in the shop so fast my head spins. They’re busy in the summer, and my mother can’t work now.”
“Not getting much life for yourself, then?”
“You could say…”
They crunched down over the band of small stones and onto the sand… through the soft dry stuff until they were on the firm, damp walking surface. Ollie watched as the wind lifted her hair into a lustrous dark veil. She pushed it back, searching one-handed in her purse for something to tie it with, and pressed her lips together in obvious annoyance. “Where did it go?” she muttered. “I always keep a ponytail tie in here.”
“Better make use of me,” Ollie said, gathering up her long tresses while she was standing still and searching her little bag. He slid an arm around her shoulders, holding her hair in a firm grip and turning her in the direction of the lighthouse. “Okay if we go this way first? Then when we come back, the wind’ll blow it backward for you.”
“That’s very creative, Oliver,” Mei said, digging her elbow into his ribs. He grinned to himself. That hadn’t been a hard dig. It had almost felt like an affectionate nudge, and she wasn’t trying to wriggle away. After a few seconds they adjusted to each other’s pace and walked step for step in the sunshine.
“Too hot for this,” she said a few minutes later, fingering the red sweatshirt. “I need to take it off.”
Reluctantly he released her hair and raised his arm from her shoulders. Mei peeled Anna’s sweatshirt off and tied it around her waist by the sleeves. Once again the wind furled her hair out in long banners and she tried to restrain it.
Ollie shrugged his jacket off and suspended it over his shoulder with a finger through the neck loop. He closed the other hand around her hair again and settled his arm where it had been resting seconds earlier. No protest from Mei, and he breathed in deeply, appreciating the sea air for sure, but enjoying the scent of her hair and her skin much more than the salt as they ambled along. It would be murder sharing that bed tonight and somehow keeping his hands to himself. His brain kept sending him pictures of pale skin, slender arms reaching out to him, and soft lips… drifts of the imagined musky, spicy taste between her thighs. It took all his determination to stay comfortable enough to keep walking.
After half a mile or so of desultory conversation she looked up at him with an impish expression. “Should we turn around now?”
He jerked out of his current X-rated scenario. “You’ve had enough?”
“No, but I might have by the time we get back as far as your bike. We can always walk further the other way from there if we want to.”
He reluctantly let go of her hair and lifted his arm. “Time to test the reverse wind theory, then.”
Mei twirled on the sand, arms flung wide, face to the sun. Her hair streamed around her, finally blowing backward as she stilled. “Yes, good theory,” she said, looking more relaxed than he’d seen her all day. At least he’d brought her this moment of tranquility after the panic of packing and getting away from Kieran, and the bombshell of possibly having to share a bed tonight. She’d known him for most of her life, but he was around twice her size now and she had only his word she’d be safe.
He fell into step beside her again, fighting not to touch her. The gusty wind pressed her pale blue crop top snugly against her breasts, cool enough to make her nipples harden into prominent peaks behind the stretchy fabric. He exhaled a long, quiet groan. Was she even wearing a bra?
Chapter 8 – Posy of grass
Mei bent and picked a few stems of bunny-tail grass from a clump of vegetation in the sand. Then some shivery-grass. She reached over and ran the tickly heads along Ollie’s bare arm and he returned his attention to her with a jump and a blink.
“Long way away?” she suggested.
He pressed his lips together for a couple of seconds, looking anything but happy. “Flying. Thinking I should take you home to Wellington tonight and zip back here again to meet the truck with the rest of the furniture on Monday morning.”
Regret threaded its way into her euphoria. It was the last thing she wanted now they were more comfortable together. She shook her head, searching for plausible reasons to stay. “Oliver, that’s very kind of you. But right now we have no way of getting my bags to your plane with Jason and Anna away.”
He sent her a sideways smirk. “We could ask Cam. He wouldn’t mind.”
She imagined being without Ollie now she’d found him again. Just one more day please. “We’re living so close to where Kieran is,” she tried. “He might be anywhere around. He could see me so easily over the weekend if we leave in a car.”
Ollie raised an eyebrow. “Excuses, excuses.”
“No,” she insisted. “Not just that. Of course, not just that.” She hoped she wasn’t looking gu
ilty. Or over-eager. Or turning pink. “You came here to do some surfing and got landed with me and my troubles. I don’t want to steal all your leisure time.”
“I might be enjoying myself.” His dark gaze snared hers. “This might be the best walk on the beach I’ve had in years.”
She looked down at the pretty seed-heads of the grasses, hoping it was true and not believing it could be. “You’re being polite.”
Ollie kicked at an empty shell, sending it skidding along the hard sand. “I’m always polite. Mostly polite, anyway. If someone really riles me up I’ll lose it, but sugar catches more flies than vinegar, as my Grandma Esther says. People respond better to reason than rudeness. You’d know that from your work.”
“I bite my tongue and I smile,” she agreed. “All those thousands of lovely people, but just a few passengers I wish I could stick pins into.”
“So I’m telling you I’m enjoying your company – okay? And also saying I’m willing to fly you back because we’re in a ridiculous situation with only one bed. There were supposed to be more. Anna expected it would be easier for you than this.”
Mei looked across at him and stumbled on a piece of half-buried driftwood. One of his arms shot around her and she found herself clamped firmly and safely against his warm chest. The hand with the finger through his jacket loop cradled the back of her head and then stroked down over her hair. Her posy of grass was crushed between them.
She glanced up to thank him and was totally demolished. A flush of color had washed across his cheekbones. His eyes were huge and dark, fixed on hers as though she was food and he was starving.
She couldn’t look away. “Oliver?” she whispered. “Oh God, this wasn’t supposed to happen.” She stayed poised in his arms, staring back at him. Everything had changed in an instant. What had been between them for half a lifetime had burst through an invisible barrier and was now out in the bright light of day instead of hidden away in the shadows.
This was Oliver Wynn – her favorite, impossible, most secret wish. And he was groaning softly, dipping his head, brushing his lips over hers, pulling her closer until they were pressed together at every possible point.
Mei’s legs barely held her up. Knees like jelly. Thighs tight against his, the hardness she’d tried for years not to imagine now pressed against her. He was just… so… big and strong and warm, and everything she’d wanted for all that time and never believed could be hers.
As though this might be the only kiss she’d ever get from him, she pulled one arm from between them and reached up to touch his face, sliding through his weekend scruff and then down again to cup his cheek, ravenous for more.
“Mei,” he murmured, easing back for a few seconds. “This was always meant to happen, but I didn’t expect it to be now. Not so soon. And not when you have so much other stuff to deal with.” He touched her bruised cheek with infinite tenderness.
Ripples of disbelief and longing flooded through her. “He’s over and done with,” she insisted. “You know that. And I’m tough. I’m looking forward to moving into the new flat.” She hesitated. “But the underlying stuff with my parents – that’s not going to change. You and I can’t be together long-term, even if we want to be.”
Oliver took a deep, slow breath and kissed her again, long and carefully, almost as though he was worried she wasn’t real. “Never say never,” he murmured when they pulled apart again. “Things change. Yes, I want my chance with you. You know I do. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I first saw you.”
She huffed a noise of disbelief. “Which is totally insane.”
He smiled, and raised his chin, tucking her more closely in against his chest.
Mei pressed her lips to his neck and inhaled. Salty skin. The leather of his jacket. A hint of wine on his breath. Herbal body wash. So delicious.
He stroked her hair. “Well, you were very cute,” he said. “And very exotic. And just about the right size for me before I started growing.”
“Too small for you now.”
He ran the tip of a finger around the shell of her ear, over each glistening jewel until he reached her bruised cheekbone again. “I’m sure some pieces would fit together beautifully, little Dragon Lady. And wimpy girls never did attract me.”
Mei nipped his neck. “There you are – dragon bite. Sometimes you have to act fierce, even if you don’t feel it.”
“Are you feeling fierce now?”
She pulled her other arm from between them. “Not so much fierce as annoyed.” She brandished her squashed and crumbling posy. “You’ve broken all my pretty seed-heads. I was going to dress up the dining table with these. Playing in my huge, beautiful dolls’ house.” She flicked him a mischievous glance.
Oliver smiled. “I’ll pick you more. Buy you real flowers if you’d like?”
She shook her head and buried her face against his chest again. “No,” she murmured. “Let’s keep playing ‘pretend’. It’s nice being away from the real world. I can’t see there’ll be anything else possible.”
His arms tightened around her and his body stretched as he stood taller. “I don’t pretend. This is the real world – my real world for sure. I want time to get to know you better, and making things possible is what I’m good at.” He dropped a kiss on her hair.
She wriggled in his arms and looked upward, realizing he was checking the road for traffic. “You’re watching for his car, aren’t you? He never comes this far – especially not when the tavern’s open.”
Ollie sighed. “Maybe. He’d better not. Won’t stop me trying to look after you, though. Where will you be living after this?”
Mei breathed him in and let the remnants of her posy fall onto the sand. “The flat’s in Roseneath. Well, it’s a whole house. Parents of one of the girls have gone travelling for a year. Someone decided to move out and live with their boyfriend.” Turning her head a fraction, she let her tongue slide over the smooth skin high on his chest. Sweet and salty. The urge to bite him again was far too strong so she raised her head for another kiss.
She barely heard the nearby waves crashing onto the sand, or the keening gulls, or the occasional vehicle rushing by on the road. Ollie held her close, and then even closer, but never so tightly he could hurt her.
“I won’t break,” Mei insisted, kissing him harder, desperate for total contact.
He groaned, long and deep, and bent low enough to slide his hands under her butt and hoist her up around his hips. Mei clung to him, thighs wide open, unashamedly grinding against his hardness. “Good thing we already got the bed done,” she gasped between kisses.
Ollie’s deep chuckle broke them apart. “Are you saying we should go home and mess it up?”
“Oh damn, damn, damn,” she exclaimed, kicking the backs of his thighs as though she was urging a horse on. “Shouldn’t have said that. Mouth going before my brain.”
Ollie’s amused gaze held hers. “No going back now, Dragon Lady. The words are out. I heard them loud and clear.”
Mei swallowed, hoping he didn’t see it as nervousness. Yes, she wanted him. Her mouth watered, and that wasn’t all. Deep inside, she buzzed and hummed and moistened. Distracting. Enticing. Even after Kieran’s casual cruelty, the right man still turned her on, and right now Ollie was the right man. If she couldn’t have him for long, at least she could make it intense.
Her released his tight grip and let her slide down again so she was standing on the sand. Didn’t let her go, though. Kept her in his arms, and Mei couldn’t resist rising on tiptoe, pressing her hips hard against his, and adding a sideways swivel or two.
“Stop checking me out,” he growled, still with that tender, amused expression that melted her bones. “I’m doing my total best here to behave after what you’ve been through.” He dropped a kiss on her hair, and added, “I never in a million years imagined anything like this happening out on the beach. Maybe I hoped for a nice dinner in a dark bistro with music in the background and a glass of wine too many… sometim
e when you’re back in town…?”
“Instead of seagulls, and being miles from bed.” She narrowed her eyes and found she was laughing. “Can’t have everything, I guess.”
“Hmmm. And only one condom in my wallet.” He raised a brow.
Her mouth fell open. “Oliver! Not nearly enough! Maybe the tavern has a machine?”
He smirked at her dismayed expression. “Geez, I hope so. Just in case we really can’t keep our hands off each other.”
Mei closed her mouth and sent him an apologetic glance. “I don’t have any because that was his job.”
“Good thing we don’t need any, then.”
“Today, anyway,” she couldn’t help murmuring as she bent to pick a replacement posy.
“Fuck, Mei – you’re turning me inside out. You want me or not?” He’d obviously heard her quiet comment because he paced away several steps and stood watching her with a hungry expression as though he didn’t dare to be closer.
She hadn’t heard him curse before. Or ever seen him look so agitated. His eyes had darkened to chocolate from their usual cruisy caramel, and that hectic flush had appeared over his cheekbones again. She was secretly pleased to see ‘good’ Oliver Wynn had a wilder side. It hadn’t taken much to rouse the passion in him, but she couldn’t imagine him ever losing control the way Kieran had.
She took a couple of steps toward him and laid a hand on his arm. “Sorry. Timing’s not right, and I can’t see that it ever can be.” The shivery-grass in her hand gleamed in the sunshine, trembling on its slender stems as each gust of wind caught it. Or was her hand shaking? She rubbed one of the heads between her thumb and forefinger and it broke apart and scattered. As easy to damage as she had been.
