Sydney Harbour Hospital: Tom's Redemption

by Fiona Lowe

  She raised her head, loving the way his hand now curved around the back of her neck. ‘It doesn’t usually happen to me.’

  ‘You don’t usually do brain surgery.’ Now his fingers were stroking her neck and then they moved along her jaw, tilting her chin. His eyes that couldn’t see her darkened with desire. ‘You were amazing. Are amazing.’

  Her laughter faded at his voice—husky, filled with admiration and undisguised attraction. Unlike the last time they’d almost kissed, this time there was no ambiguity. This time his words and tone of voice matched his expression. Nothing about him was pushing her away.

  Her brain melted into a puddle of need as he traced her mouth with the tips of his fingers. Zips of sensation tore through her, detonating heat, lust and a desperate yearning all over her body. Then his mouth pressed against hers—gentle yet firm and, oh, so scorching hot. She heard a soft moan as she opened her mouth under his and realised it had come from her. His taste flooded her—coffee, peppermint and hunger for her—swirling into her mouth, diving deep and strumming the strings of her need. It knocked her off her feet.

  She sagged against him. He stumbled slightly at the unexpected weight and she flung her arm around his waist to steady him. She didn’t want to give him any reason to pull away. She closed her eyes and let him kiss her, giving him full rein to explore her mouth, to nip her lips with his teeth, to caress and explore with his tongue and to brand her with his flavour of arousal. Sinking into the kiss, his heat simmered her blood, making every pulse point throb, and she never wanted it to end.

  She’d been kissed before but nothing like this. It was as if he was stealing part of her and she was giving it up freely, but still he demanded more and she could feel the pull. Suddenly her blissed-out body woke up and demanded him. She cupped his cheeks, felt his stubble grazing her palms and she kissed him back.

  Hard.

  Fast.

  Her tongue duelled with his and dominated his mouth, seeking his fire and merging it with hers. She heard him moan, heard his cane fall to the ground and felt his mouth plunder hers with a weight that stole her breath.

  Panting, he tore his mouth away from hers and she shivered from the loss of his touch.

  His hand ploughed through his hair. ‘Hell, I used to have a lot more finesse than this. We’re standing next to a rubbish dumpster.’

  ‘I hadn’t noticed.’ She touched his cheek, wanting to keep the contact. Not wanting him to change his mind.

  He laughed and brought his hand up to cover hers. ‘Your sense of smell is hopeless.’

  ‘I thought we were dealing with a whole lot of other senses and, believe me, you still have loads of finesse.’ She kissed him quickly and decided to act. ‘I don’t have my car, but my place isn’t far. It’s over on Northcliff.’

  He smiled and his eyes seemed to sparkle like the phosphorescent green waters of the Great Barrier Reef. ‘Mine’s closer. Walk fast.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  TOM stretched out in his bed, feeling completely sated. The musky smell of sex, the sweet scent of Hayley and the warmth from her body circled him, and he realised he hadn’t felt this relaxed since—Hell, he had no clue how long it had been and at that moment he didn’t care. He just was. He grinned at the play of light and dark in the room, shadows cast by the morning light. They’d made it to his apartment—just. Somehow he’d got his trembling hand to insert the key into the lock and had managed to turn it and open the door. In a tumble of clothes, they’d kicked off shoes, popped buttons, got arms tangled up in sleeves and shucked pants until finally they’d fallen into his bed and come together in a rush of blood-pounding desire and screaming lust—hot, fast and breath-stealing. Nothing about it had been slow. Nothing about it had been measured. It had been all about need—his and hers—two people equal in their quest to lose themselves in each other, taking more than giving.

  Now, as his lungs refilled with air and his blood came back to his brain, the full impact of what had just happened hit him. He had a woman in his bed. A woman in his apartment. Before he’d gone blind, he’d always had sex with a woman at her place. That way he had been the one in control. He could get up and leave when he was ready, sometimes before he was ready if the hospital called him out—but either way his departure took place prior to the woman snuggling up and falling asleep on his shoulder. He’d always mumble something about ‘work’ and ‘calling later’, which, of course, he never did. Work had always come first because it protected him from tumbling back to poverty and the griminess of his childhood.

  The mattress moved and he reached his hand out to touch Hayley’s silky hair, surprised at the need he had to feel her presence.

  You never went in for touchy-feely stuff.

  The last time I had sex I wasn’t blind. This is my way of seeing her.

  If you say so.

  He blocked out his internal argument. ‘You okay, Hayley?’

  ‘I’m fine. Why?’

  He heard the smile in her voice. ‘It was pretty fast.’

  She gave a throaty laugh. ‘Fast, but good, I hope.’

  ‘Very good.’ And it had been. Intoxicatingly good, and his blood still sang with her taste and touch. The buzz reminded him of the high he’d always got from riding his 1000 cc motorcycle fast along the coast with the throb of the powerful engine vibrating through him, and the wind and salt pounding him. It was amplified exhilaration and totally addictive. But as much as he’d loved the speed of his motorcycle and his sports car, he’d also enjoyed long, leisurely walks. That had given him a totally different buzz and that was the one he wanted now. He knew the urgent feel of Hayley’s arms and legs around him, the hot press of her body against his, and her gasps of breath as she begged for him. This time he wanted to feel and hear her shatter from a long, slow build-up. From a seduction so unhurried in its approach that it would sneak up unannounced and render her deliciously helpless with its power. And then he’d join her.

  Hayley felt Tom’s fingers in her hair and the unhurried way they explored its length until they reached her scalp and traced the width of her forehead. The touch was gentle as opposed to urgent, which was how it had been from the moment they’d stumbled into his apartment. How she’d managed to stand next to him in the hall, watching him miss the door lock three times without lunging for the key and ripping it out of his hand and slamming it into the lock, still amazed her. Both of them had been crazy with lust and had given themselves over to it completely. Now the exhilaration was fading and exhaustion from her huge night at The Harbour was sending out its cloying tendrils. His fingers soothed and her eyes fluttered shut.

  ‘What happened here?’

  Her eyes flew open as she felt his fingers on her hairline, caressing the small scar that nestled there, hidden under her hair. No one ever saw it and yet Tom, who couldn’t see, had found it. She looked up at him as he stared down at her through beautiful yet sightless eyes, knowing she was only a shadow to him. ‘I fell off my bike when I was nine.’

  He nodded slowly as if he was compiling a picture of her. ‘What colour’s your hair?’

  ‘I say it’s brown but my hairdresser insists it’s chestnut. However, we both agree that it’s dead straight.’

  His mouth tweaked up in a half-smile. ‘That I knew. Not one single curl snagged my fingers.’ He breathed deeply as he ran strands of her hair across his face. ‘It smells like lime and coconut.’

  Her short laugh showed her embarrassment. ‘I have a bit of a thing for body lotions, perfumes and shampoo, but I also know that often patients are scared before surgery so I think I should smell nice for them.’

  He pressed his lips to her forehead. ‘I appreciate it.’

  A silly quiver of happiness shoved her embarrassment away.

  His palms cupped her cheeks and his thumbs met at the bridge of her nose. He stroked outwards with a delicious amount of pressure—not firm but not soft either— and she let his touch roll over her, stripping her muscles of all their tension as she s
ank into the mattress. She’d never been touched quite like this. It was an almost reverent exploration that put sighted lovers in the shade. His hands brushed her eyebrows and then outlined her closed eyes.

  Again Tom’s voice called her back. ‘Are they chestnut too?’

  She struggled to concentrate as his fingers sent rivers of relaxation washing through her. ‘What?’

  ‘Your eyebrows. Are they chestnut?’

  It seemed odd to be describing herself—almost vain—but she’d enjoyed watching Tom and studying him over the last ten days and this was his turn. ‘No, they’re darker and so are my eyelashes. With my brown eyes and long brown lashes my sister used to—’ She bit off the words. She didn’t want to think about Amy right now. This wasn’t the real world with all its pain and heartache. This was pure escapism.

  ‘Call you a Jersey cow?’

  She gasped in surprise. ‘How did you know?’

  He grinned. ‘Big brown eyes and long, thick lashes. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work that one out.’

  His thumbs continued to explore her face. ‘Your nose is cuter than a Jersey cow’s.’

  ‘Gee, thanks.’ She laughed half-indignantly and then reached out her hand, running it along the length of his very distinctive nose and lingering on the slight bump. ‘Mine hasn’t been broken.’

  ‘You probably grew up on the Northern Beaches.’ It was said without rancour, but it inferred that her childhood had been easier than his.

  She didn’t confirm her middle-class upbringing because she knew more than anyone that money didn’t protect a child from death or a family from loss. Instead, she let him capture her hand from his nose, place it by her side and then kiss her.

  Deep beyond her tiredness, her body stirred.

  The length of his body edged hers lightly, moving against it and then away with each breath he took. His hands brushed her chin and her neck, and then he stroked her collarbone with a feather-soft touch, lingering on the slightly raised area on the right-hand side. ‘The bike accident?’

  A delicious tingle spread around her body, demolishing the fatigue and waking her up in the most wonderful way. ‘Who knew my body was a road map of my life? There’s an appendix scar further down.’

  ‘Poor Hayley.’

  He kissed the spot where the bone had knitted, his tongue caressing her skin, and her legs twitched as the shimmers joined together into one wide river of glorious sensation. Then his hands reached her breasts and his touch became almost reverent. Cupping them, he took their weight and a deep line of concentration carved into his brow.

  She was instantly self-conscious, wondering what was wrong with her breasts. ‘What?’

  ‘They’re just as I imagined.’

  She didn’t understand. ‘But you’ve touched them before.’

  He smiled a knowing smile. ‘That was a mere brush of the hand, which to a blind man is nothing more than a passing glance. Now, this …’ his thumb stroked her nipple ‘… is really seeing them.’

  A hot arrow of longing darted straight down between her legs and her body jerked against his.

  This time he grinned widely. ‘If you like that, you might just enjoy this.’

  His mouth closed around the areola of her other breast while his thumb continued to brush the nipple. Her breasts tightened and her nipples puckered, desperately seeking more. Her breath hitched in her throat as showers of colour and ribbons of heat followed, making her head thrash against the pillow. She never wanted it to stop and her hands plunged into his hair in a combination of wanting to touch him and not wanting him to stop what he was doing.

  His wicked laugh rained down on her as he dawdled his tongue and his hands down her belly, stroking her, tasting her and branding her with his stubble until her body was quivering and slick with throbbing need for him.

  Her arms flailed out toward the bedside table and she managed to gasp, ‘Condoms.’

  He shook his head as his fingers reached the only thatch of hair on her body that was curly. ‘We’re not ready for that just yet.’

  She stared at his face as she tried hard to bring her eyes into focus. ‘We’re … not?’

  ‘No.’ His fingers sneaked slowly lower and lower with blissful intent, and then he slid one inside her. Then another.

  She gasped with delight and instantly tightened around his fingers before closing her eyes and joining the ride to oblivion. Nothing existed except the ever-increasing ball of sensation that he was building inside her with his talented hands.

  Suddenly, his fingers stopped and then withdrew.

  Shocked surprise and begging need snapped her eyes open, fast. ‘Don’t stop.’ She heard the desperation in her voice and didn’t care. ‘Please, don’t stop.’

  His face was wreathed in one enormous smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes, which now glowed with a light she’d never seen before. With his other hand he drew a lazy circle on her lower belly. ‘Just tell me, what’s the colour of the hair down here?’

  She heard words, but her completely melted brain frantically scrambled, trying to find some neurons that would still connect. It tried, but the colour eluded her. ‘You’re a shocking tease, Tom Jordan. Does it even matter?’

  ‘Yes. It completes my picture of you.’

  The tenderness in his words touched her and the permanent emptiness around her heart shrank a little. She pressed her hand against his chest and the almost black hair that rested there. ‘This colour.’

  ‘Beautiful.’

  He moved and she felt his hair lightly brush her belly and then his lips pressing kisses on her inner thigh before finding the perfect place.

  Deep within, her scream of need ignited and she cried out for him, wanting him to fill her, aching for his width, but then her body took over, riding the pounding waves of wonder, sweeping her higher and higher until the ball of bliss exploded, flinging her far beyond herself to a place she’d never been.

  When she floated back to earth, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him. ‘Thank you. Now I want to give you the same gift.’

  ‘And you can.’

  He rolled her over so he was under her and then he pressed a foil square into her hand. She rolled the condom over his erection, marvelling at his long, silky length, and she kept stroking him, loving the feel of him against her palm.

  He groaned and his face flushed. ‘Listening to you come almost undid me so if you want the full experience you need to stop doing that right now.’

  ‘Really?’ She leaned forward, letting her hair sweep across his chest, surprised but loving the fact that her orgasm had turned him on when she’d seen it as a selfless gift from him.

  He grabbed her buttocks and lifted her. ‘Believe me. Really.’

  A surge of power filled her—her femininity rising to dominate for the very first time in her life. This sightless man desired her and wanted her, and just as he’d held the key to demolishing all her restraint, she now held the key to his. She also knew that by giving him release she too would receive it. Lowering her body slowly, she felt herself opening up layer upon layer to take him, to absorb him, and then she closed tightly around him.

  His guttural groan filled the room and then his hands gripped her hips. In a rhythm as old as time they moved together, driving each other upward, taking and giving, needing and demanding, until they both cried out with the glory of touching the stars.

  Warmth cocooned Hayley. Warmth, cosiness and blissful rest. Everything around her was fuzzy—a sort of soft focus—and she had an overwhelming feeling of being safe. She didn’t know how she’d come to be on a beach, lying on a large and lovely soft towel, or how long she’d even been here, but it didn’t matter. She had sunshine on her back, the soporific lapping sounds of a gentle tide against the sand, and the sleep she always craved beckoned her with an addictive serenade. The Sandman with his dancing eyes said, ‘Sunshine so you can sleep in a lovely pale red glow. I did this just for you. You know you want to sleep so close your eyes a
nd leave the rest to me.’

  And she was so very tired. Chronically tired from years of not getting enough sleep and this was all so perfect. She let her book fall from her hands as she laid her head down and then she let her eyelids fall shut.

  The promised pink glow surrounded her and all her stress and fatigue rolled away, absorbed by the heat of the sand. The beguiling Sandman was right. This was the perfect place to sleep. Why had it taken so long to find this beach? She might never leave. As she stretched out with a sigh, the pink glow deepened to a claret-red. She fell deeper into sleep. A shiver ran along her spine as a cool breeze sneaked in around her back. She rolled over, chasing the sun, but it vanished, leaving darkness in its place. Her hand shot out, grasping for the heat of the sand, but instead of warm silica and quartz crystals she touched cold, lifeless marble. She pulled her hand back in fright as the inky darkness intensified, roaring in, settling over her like the membrane of suffocating plastic and denying her breath.

  Her heart slammed against her chest as panic screamed in her ears. She gasped for breath, desperately trying to flee the dark and find the light. The more she fought the dark, the stronger its grip on her became until it pinned her down, trapping her in its clutches. She tried to stand but her legs were tied and everything she touched burned her with desolate cold.

  Get out. Get out now before you die.

  Panting hard, she gave an almighty push and kicked hard. Her eyes flew open and she realised she was now awake—abruptly jolted out of a nightmare. Her tight chest formed a band around her and she could hardly move any air and her head spun while her fingertips tingled.

  Breathe in, breathe out. Count it in, count it out. Gradually, her eyes adjusted to the dark. Her skin was drenched in sweat, her legs felt constricted and slowly she realised she was in a bed and tangled up in a sheet and duvet. A tiny chink of light squeezed through a small gap at the closing point of the curtains.