by Cate Ellink
‘I don’t have a plan. I can’t think beyond football. I know I should. I know I need to think out plan B in case of injury or something but I never have. Football’s been everything. Other people have partners, relationships, kids, the happy family but I’ve never found anyone to fit in, not easily, and so it’s just been footy. One hundred per cent. I don’t have a clue what else to do. Football’s my life. I haven’t thought beyond it.’ He takes a breath after all the words have run out almost on top of each other.
I feel his desperation. He told me he lived for football and I half expected this answer but the pain of him saying it is difficult to hear. I know what it’s like to leave the sport you love. To leave the safety of training. I don’t know if I should say anything yet or if he has more. So I paddle quietly. A few more moments of waiting won’t hurt.
‘How did you decide to retire, Sam?’
I’m glad I’m not looking at him when I have to answer this one. ‘I trained with a kid who was desperate to move along her career. She was good. Really good. But I kept beating her. She was 20 and still being beaten by me but it was getting difficult. Niggling injuries bothered me. Recovery time was getting longer. I got selected and she missed out, again. She was gutted. I didn’t feel good about beating her this time. She was on the rise, and I was on the decline. She deserved her chance before she lost the competitive edge.’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t know why but I retired my spot, then retired from competition. It was a gut feeling that I don’t truly understand. I wanted to go out on top. I didn’t want to ruin a kid’s career. I had the offer of coaching. Things seemed to fall into place.’
We paddle on in silence.
‘Did you know what you wanted from life after?’ He asks the question as we make our way past Mount Eliza and around the tip.
I laugh. ‘You ask that after being with me this week and seeing how messed up I am about partners, kids?’
‘I don’t know what I want from life after football. I can’t honestly imagine my life without it. And then I came here and met you, and you mentioned kids, and I can see a hazy image.’
My heart’s in my throat and the butterflies in my stomach are more like stampeding buffalo. ‘What’s the image?’
‘I can see us with a tribe of kids here, at the beach, racing along the sand, teaching them to snorkel, laughing together at their excitement, hiking up the hills, exploring.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘And it’s not a bad picture.’
His image is well painted. I can see boys like him, girls like him, boys like me, girls like me, other kids joining in. It’s a terrifying picture, but he’s right, there’s good about it too.
‘I’m too old for a tribe of kids.’ It’s all I can get from my mouth. And I’m pleased I can say anything after mentally seeing his vision.
‘If we started today, we could have three or four in a few years, couldn’t we?’ The laughter in his voice tells me he’s jesting, but sometimes the truth is hidden in jest.
Started today? Three or four? My poor brain’s panicking but all I manage to say is, ‘I’m still covered by contraceptive. By the time it wears off, what if it’s too late and we can’t have any kids?’ If Cooper only wants children, this will stop him.
The kayak wobbles as Cooper moves. ‘If we can’t have any, then we adopt or foster or borrow nieces and nephews. You’re important to me, Sam. You.’
My heart almost thumps out of my chest. ‘This is going awfully quickly. We’ve only known each other a week.’ I can’t physically run but oh, boy, I can do it mentally. We’re coming past North Beach and almost back into the lagoon. I half hope the conversation will end when the trip does.
Cooper laughs and splashes water at me from the end of his paddle. ‘Sam, Sam, Sam. I got this kayak so you had nowhere to run when we had this discussion. Don’t skip out on me now.’
‘You hired the kayak to talk about kids?’
‘It freaked you out so much, I wanted to see why. I wanted to understand you. I didn’t think we’d seriously be talking about… No, that’s a lie. I wanted to talk about us but I didn’t hope we’d get this far.’
I’m not sure if he means this far in our discussion, this far in a relationship, or even this far around the island, and I’m just too chicken to ask him to clarify.
‘I think we’re doing well for a week. If we didn’t get along, I wouldn’t have survived a few days, much less a week.’ He sounds pleased, whether it’s with himself, or with me, or us, I’m not sure.
I have to agree with him. I feel the same. ‘I don’t tolerate anyone for too long either. You’re an exception.’
‘So, where does this leave us?’ His neutral tone and open question lets me run if I want to.
I clench my back teeth. I’m being a grown up and facing this. I’m not running. ‘In a serious relationship, talking about moving, multiple kids and the future. Scaring the shit out of me. At the same time, I’m excited, or thrilled or shocked or something.’
‘Thank God, we’re on the same page.’
Cooper’s words make me laugh and he joins in. Somehow it’s not as terrifying when you can laugh.
We paddle back to the lagoon beach, our mood lighter.
The whole day has been incredible. The scenery and serenity astounding. Tranquil ocean, a small boat, great company, hairy conversations and perfect weather make it a day I’ll never forget.
We beach the kayak and drag it up the sand. While we’re retrieving our belongings, Brian calls out. ‘I knew you two couldn’t keep out of the water completely.’
We laugh, wave and go up to chat for a while before more goodbyes. Cooper and I head off.
‘Do you need to go to your place, Sam, to get packed or organised?’
I laugh. ‘I’ve hardly unpacked. I’ll need 10 minutes in the morning to grab my stuff, that’s all.’
He grins. ‘Then my place it is.’
‘No food?’
‘It’s already organised.’ His smile has a slightly sheepish tinge to it but I can’t complain. I’d be grumbling if he didn’t spend the night with me. And he’d be growling if he wasn’t fed.
Chapter 16
Back in Cooper’s room for the last night, he has chowder delivered. Piping hot bowls, just like being at the restaurant. His thoughtfulness makes the chowder sweeter, saltier, thicker, richer.
Afterwards, we shower quickly before he brushes his fingers across the top of my shoulder. ‘You got a touch of sun, even with sunscreen.’
‘Not surprising since we spent all day out there. But at least it’s not sore or really burned.’ I grab my bottle of jojoba oil.
‘Here, let me.’ Cooper holds his hand out for the bottle and I pass it over. ‘This feels nice,’ he says as he squirts the oil into his palm.
‘It’s supposed to be the closest oil to our skin’s. It soaks in fast and does a great job moisturising.’
He slathers oil across my shoulders with slick palms. My toes curl. Shoulder muscles, sore from the paddling, ease at his touch. He walks me towards the bed. ‘Lie down and I’ll make it good.’
I need no other encouragement.
I lie down and he sprays more drops of oil against my back before his hands work to massage it in. Heavenly decadence. Feather soft pillow, dreamy mattress, man with huge gentle hands, oil, muscles relaxing. I couldn’t be in a better place.
‘We don’t have plans after tonight, Sam, and I’d like some.’ His hands remain gentle, his voice is quiet but there’s steel there too, like this is not negotiable.
‘I don’t know how I can make any plans.’ I sigh, feeling the dreaminess edge towards harsh reality. ‘I need to talk to people, see if I can transfer from coaching in Adelaide to coaching in Melbourne, or maybe there’s something else I can do there. I don’t know.’
When I first spoke his hands tightened, then loosened before stopping completely. Now they only touch the rounded muscles of my calves.
‘Is that not what you want to hear?’ I ask with a soft but defens
ive tone.
He squeezes my calves before his hands leave me. Then they’re on my shoulders, rolling me over, lifting me against him, holding me.
‘It’s something I dreamed of hearing but not what I expected.’ He brushes his lips across the top of my head, over my temple and down my cheek. ‘You’d move?’ His tongue flicks against the corner of my mouth and mine brushes against it.
Lifting my hand until it curls over his jaw and cheek, I stroke softly. Our lips meet in a single chaste kiss.
Gentle fingers stroke me. A brush across my cheekbone. One finger glides over the swell of my breast and across my ever-tightening nipple. A hand closes over my hipbone before easing down my thigh. Lips graze my neck, collarbone, cleavage.
I’m rendered immobile. Unable to lift a hand to touch him. Not through anything he’s done to restrain me but through the lassitude brought about by his touch, our talk today, and everything that’s happened since I met him.
I’m doing a jigsaw in my head, working through my churning thoughts and feelings, trying to work out logistics. And while my brain is busy, he worships me.
There’s no other way to describe the reverence of his touch, the sensitivity of his tasting, the sanctuary of his body. I soak up his devotion, allowing it to soothe my fractured mind. Goosebumps follow his mouth. Prickling heralds his hand. My body comes alive, even as my brain fumbles and flusters.
His hands slide down to my knees, calves, feet, and his mouth follows the downward movement, trailing the slope of breast to ribs and stomach. Kisses press to my left hip bone as his fingers stroke the top of my feet and massage each toe.
His mouth moves from left hip bone to right, nose brushing the sensitive skin below my navel. A moan pushes upwards and expels through my parted lips. He kisses my right hip bone, licking delicately across the point.
His hands slide up my legs, thumbs stroking the backs of my knees until bubbles fill my bloodstream and I feel like I’ve drunk too much champagne. Then he pushes my thighs apart as he strokes the flesh up and down, up and down, mesmerising me with the rhythm, the tune, the touch.
His mouth finds my slick folds. Tongue probes and parts. My legs slightly buckle, dipping, spreading wider. I arch my back and my hips push into his face. The rhythm of his lapping never wavers. His lips flutter across my clit, opening me wider with their pressure.
Hard fingers curl into my upper thighs, holding me with their strength and giving me a focus aside from the pleasure from his mouth.
I concentrate on the sting of my flesh beneath his gripping fingers and there’s a glimpse of sanity, a break from the sex-spell. I can lift my hands, run my fingers across the top of his head with the short hair tickling the pads of my fingertips and the sides of my fingers. My fingers tingle, the sensation racing up my arms and through my chest. My cunt quivers with longing, sending shards of need through my stomach and higher. The waves of need meet in my chest, producing waves twice the size of the original. Waves of pleasure thrum me.
When his tongue probes my core and thrusts into me, I grab the sides of his head, his ears hot against my palms.
‘God, Coop. Yes.’ I’ve found my voice in time for an orgasm to scream from my body. His mouth flutters against my clit while he tongue-fucks me, and it brings me undone. Breaks me, cell by cell.
As I’m pulsing and throbbing, gasping for breath, he picks me up and lifts me onto the edge of the bed. Striding between my thighs, he elevates my legs and spears me with his cock. A deep growl rumbles through his body before being emitted into the electrified air around us.
His cock surges inside and pulsing waves of orgasm continue to pound me. Each thrust sends me higher, riding waves of euphoria. Each withdrawal is a moment where my body stiffens in fear or anticipation, which only makes the following thrust more intense, more euphoric, more…more… Just more.
I’m screaming inside, gasping for air, as orgasm after orgasm cascades through me. A few quick hard thrusts and Cooper floods me, his body arching as his groan drowns my noise.
He holds my hips tightly, holds me to him, holds me as if he’s never going to let me go. His body shakes and trembles but that may only be me wobbling.
When the world stills and my lungs have sufficient oxygen, our gazes meet and lock. A sheen covers his eyes and I imagine mine must look the same. It’s a different feeling to today’s orgasm on the beach where tears fell. This one’s a less open, but somehow deeper emotion altogether. Something raw and rich. Both gut-churning and elating. Something that floods my soul and thrills my heart. Something that makes me lean close and smile before I whisper against his lips, ‘I love you, Coop.’ No fear comes with the words. My chest swells with happiness.
He captures my mouth, lifts me and holds me against him. His cock slips from inside me and I feel bereft, but the way he holds me tight overrides the sense of loss. He folds us both onto the cushioning softness. All the while he kisses me with such tenderness and passion.
When the kiss breaks, he strokes my cheek. ‘Thank you, Sam.’ He holds me against him, aligned to him perfectly. My feet against his feet. My knees opposite his knees, my hips at his hips, his cock nestled against my pubic bone and abdomen, my breasts against his chest. His arms are wrapped around me, holding me close. I know my eyelids are drooping, as if today’s emotion has taken everything out of me. I’m struggling to stay awake.
My eyelids open and I catch his gaze, holding it tightly with mine. ‘I promise I’ll get things sorted and move to Melbourne. I won’t let you down.’
He kisses both my eyelids. ‘I know you won’t. I promise to fit you into my life. Other guys do, so can I. We’ll make this work.’
And we will.
***
At the airport the next morning, the real world wallops me hard. I’m leaving. I’ve made promises, as has he, but we’ll be apart and it’s easier to let things slide when you aren’t with someone physically. I need to give him an out.
But there’s goddamn people everywhere. I don’t want this conversation overheard.
‘Want to get some fresh air while we wait?’
When Cooper nods, I lead him outside away from the crowd. Folding my arms across my chest, I stand and face him. ‘I haven’t really won anything. You’ve beaten me each time. So I’m not holding you to anything — ’
‘You won three photos and the swim.’
I look at him sceptically. ‘How convenient to grant them to me now.’ I grin to soften the chastisement.
He looks at me seriously, with concern. ‘I thought the competition between us was different to us being together?’
I bite my lips together and will myself to say what I must. ‘Yes, but if you change your mind about us, I won’t hold you to it.’
‘I won’t be changing my mind. Are you?’ His stare is so intense. I can’t break it as I shake my head.
He leans close and whispers right into my ear so no one can possibly overhear. ‘You won the most important thing, Sam.’
I pull away slightly, enough to breathe and think. What did I win? Does he mean the overall photo? My face scrunches as I try to work it out. Cooper smiles. This smile’s a cross between the Madonna’s and the Cheshire Cat’s. I give up trying to work it out. ‘What?’
He presses fingers over my lips, then leans close. His tongue flicks against my ear lobe before his lips brush my ear. His breath is warm and moist, sending shudders through me. One hand slides along my folded forearms, stroking and kneading. His other arm curls around my shoulders. I’m surrounded, held. I close my eyes to savour the moment.
‘You won me, Sam. I love you.’ His words are softly whispered against my ear. So soft they take an age to penetrate into the processing unit in my brain. When they’re deciphered, my body melts. My lips pull into the largest grin, so large my cheeks hurt, in the best way possible. I lean against him, soaking into him. He could not have said anything more perfect.
From the corner of my eye, my worst fear materialises. The news man. His camera.
Snapping photos. Of us.
Cooper moves. He must feel the tension in me. The news man comes bounding to us and I feel Cooper’s groan in a gust of air against my cheek.
‘Cooper, I thought you two were competitors. This looks like something so much more.’ He’s grimacing as if he’s been cheated. As if Cooper lied. As if our business is his. It grates on my nerves.
I swing from Cooper’s arms and stare at the reporter. ‘Mate, have you never heard of a goodbye kiss and a holiday fling? Piss off and leave us alone.’
His face goes from shock, to horror, to amazement, to dismay in the space of seconds. He glances at Cooper who says nothing, his face a stony mask.
‘Sorry. I thought maybe there was a story here. I’ll leave you then.’ He makes his way back to the terminal while I mutter every swear word I know under my breath.
I swing back to Cooper, my hand flat against his chest.
‘We back to the holiday fling, Sam?’ A coldness clings to the question, making me frown.
‘What?’ I look into Cooper’s tense face. I grab his jaw between my hands and plant a big kiss on the thin straight line of his lips. ‘No way.’ I nuzzle his mouth with little kisses. ‘You see, this sexy hot guy taught me to only give ‘em a little part of myself. So that’s all I gave him.’ My kiss deepens, my tongue brushes across his lips, touching between them briefly before I pull away. ‘The rest of me is yours, Coop.’
After a short burst of noise, which could be laughter or a groan, he hugs me close. ‘Jesus, Sam. Don’t scare me like that. I thought you were serious.’
‘I used my most serious voice.’
He shakes his head while grinning. ‘First you accost me with a wolf-whistle. Then you knock my rule book out of play. Now you’re accosting journos. You’re going to take some getting used to, Samantha Caine.’
‘I love to keep a man on his toes.’
The kiss we share is filled with love, hope, joy and promise. Walking onto the aircraft, I turn and wave, catching the kisses he blows for the world to see. Luckily the news man is paying no attention.
I’m walking towards the future. It will be a challenge. But there’s nothing I love more than a challenge. Except Cooper.
