by K. A. Hobbs
I don’t fight it, though. I don’t want to. The guilt that tries to rear up every time my stomach flips over at his touch is forced down into a double locked box in my mind to be dealt with another time. Because in this moment, with my hand encased in his and the soft wind blowing life into my cheeks, I feel like I could fly.
“See?” he says, dragging me to him and running a single finger over the apple of my cheek, spreading a humiliating blush over the area. “Not all exercise is awful.”
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, leaning into his hand. “I feel like…”
His smile widens, dragging the sun from behind the clouds. “Like?”
I pull back from him and spin on the spot, my arms outstretched and my face to the sky. “Like I could fly,” I sing, spinning faster and giggling like a schoolgirl when I trip right into his arms.
“See what a bit of fresh air can do?” he says on a chuckle.
“I don’t think it’s the oxygen,” I protest without even thinking, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around me.
“Sea air?” he asks with a knowing smirk as I lift my eyes up to meet his.
I shake my head playfully, feeling my loose hair fly around me in the wind. “Nope.”
“The thought of cake at the other end?”
“Negative.”
He looks thoughtful for a moment, his lips twitching. “The riveting company?”
“Bingo.” I tip my head up, feeling the cool breeze and the light of the sun on my face, and in that moment, everything feels possible. The pain of the past is gone, leaving behind only this—this man, his arms around me, and those lips that are curved up towards the heavens in a mirror of mine.
Call it a rush of blood to the head, or maybe a siren call, but I have no control over my body as my feet roll up onto my toes and my hands fly around his neck.
My lips whisper the words, “Thank you,” before crashing against his.
It isn’t gentle or ladylike. I hold nothing of myself back, throwing every ounce of need, desperation, despair and loneliness I’ve felt at him, falling backwards and hoping to God he’ll catch me.
He’s hesitant for a moment, and I can feel my euphoria being scratched away at the edges. And then his mouth softens against mine, and we are flying, soaring on the wind over the crashing waves and the rugged coastline. The wind is our soundtrack as we fall into one another, lost in a single moment that I desperately want to last forever.
Everything ends, though. When he slowly pulls away, the loss of that connection feels somehow monumental, unsurvivable, until he brings his forehead to rest against mine, his hands moving to cup my cheeks, warm and protective, his lips grazing my nose as he speaks softly. “You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to do that.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. It’s all I can do to remain standing while my knees turn to jelly beneath me and I bask in the warmth of his affection.
I’m not sure how long we stay like that—maybe a minute, maybe a year—but I get the distinct impression that I’m not the only one afraid to break the sanctity of the moment by loosening my grip on him.
“I need to get you fed,” he eventually murmurs against my skin, leaving tingles in his wake as he slowly withdraws.
“Food is overrated,” I mumble back, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my coat and staring down at my boots.
“Perhaps, but I wouldn’t be much of a doctor if I let you waste away from starvation just because I wanted to keep kissing you, would I?”
My lips curl slightly at his admission, growing into a full blown beam when he burrows into my pocket and plucks my hand free to grip it with his. Forcing away the bad thoughts that threaten to encroach on my precious moment, I allow myself to shiver at the pleasure of the simple gesture, enjoying the way his skin against mine makes me tingle and come alive, nerve endings that have been long dormant firing off in pleasure.
Lost in my own thoughts, I allow myself to be led along the overgrown coastal path until we reach a tiny garden that doubles as an outdoor teashop. The stunning view over the bay is breathtaking, yet I can’t seem to drag my eyes away from Sebastian as he stalks to the table with a tray loaded with food. I laugh at the sight of it. There’s enough there to feed a whole army of people, not just two of us, but his enthusiasm is infectious and I really am hungry. The food is simple, local fayre, and I devour a cheese sandwich like a starving person at a feast, not even taking the time to be ashamed at the groan I let out at how good it is to eat something that isn’t Super Noodles or Frazzles for a change.
He watches on, amused, eating his own sandwich a little more sedately, but I’m pleased to see his eyes drift to watch me as often as mine do him. I’ve always thought his eyes were green, but when I inspect them more closely, I spot the tiny amber strains weaving through them, making them sparkle like a rare precious stone. They are full of his Seb-ness—his lively personality, his quick wit and his amazing capacity for compassion. I heard once that the eyes are the windows to the soul, but until I really allowed myself to get lost in his gaze, I never believed it. It would be impossible for him to hide his goodness when he looks at you like that—so open and unguarded.
A momentary twinge of regret singes my stomach at the question lingering on the edges of my mind. Will I ever be able to offer him that same kind of vulnerability? Having lost everything once, the fear of having what matters ripped away from me all over again is devastating, sending havoc careening around my mind as my half-eaten sandwich hovers in the air, forgotten.
“I don’t know what that thought was, but I know I didn’t like it,” he says softly, reaching his arm across the table to cover my restless hand in his.
Blinking, I force a smile onto my face and turn my hand to curl my fingers around his. “Nothing to worry about. Thank you for bringing me here. It’s beautiful.”
His eyes lock with mine while his thumb strokes idly over my knuckles. “Mmm, yes, it is.”
The whole time we’re out, he barely keeps his hands off me. By the time we return to my house, laiden down with shopping bags brimming over with food he’s told me in no uncertain terms I will be eating, my body is trembling like a livewire at the constancy of his touch and the sensations it sends flooding through my body.
Every single part of me feels alive, places that have been dormant for so long tingling and reminding me that I may not be the empty shell of a woman I thought I was. My hands shake as I unpack the shopping into my bare cupboards, whimpering every time our bodies brush against one another as we move around the kitchen in a silence that practically vibrates with need. How can a simple trip to the supermarket do this?
“Are you alright?” he questions softly as his body sidles up behind mine, his hands dropping to my hips while my shaking hands attempt to get inside the ridiculous packaging keeping me from my new pair of kitchen scissors.
“Why do they do this?” I mumble, trying to keep my voice from wavering at his touch. “You need scissors to get into the damn packet. It’s ridiculous.”
“Molly.”
My breath lodges itself in my throat, refusing to move as his thumbs work their way under my sweater and softly caress the sensitive skin of my hips.
“Mmm?”
“Put the scissors down.”
My hands have obeyed before my brain has caught up with the movement, the packet landing on the counter with a small thud. Unsure what to do, my fingers hover over them, trembling lightly as his hands slowly move higher, easily brushing aside my woolen sweater to access the areas he’s aiming for.
Everything tightens inside me and my breath refuses to come as his gentle fingers casually explore my body. Goosebumps litter my skin as my hands move to the counter to keep me from falling to my knees. How can a simple touch make a person feel so much all at once?
My body is putty in his hands as he turns me to face him. I have no control over any of my responses as his face moves to my neck, his lips tasting and caressing every inch of exposed skin. Al
l I can do is feel. This man has somehow managed to reduce me to a trembling ball of need without removing a single item of clothing.
“Sebastian,” I breathe out, my hands winding around his neck and pulling him closer.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his actions encouraging me to do anything but.
I should.
I know I should.
Everything about this is wrong. But then, why does it feel so right?
Shaking my head, struck mute by the intensity in his eyes, I move to unbutton his shirt, my nervous fingers taking far longer than necessary to operate a simple button. Each one seems to take a lifetime, my impatience to unveil his solid chest like an itch under my skin that I have no hope of scratching.
It takes him far less time to divest me of my jumper, leaving me shivering and attempting to cover my chest with my arms while blatantly ogling his.
Gentle fingers brush my arms aside, his eyes intense as he says, “Don’t hide from me. You’re beautiful.”
Biting my lip, I drop my hands to my sides, my shoulders curling inwards as his eyes drift painfully slowly from my face right down to the waistline of my leggings, taking in every single inch of my exposed body. I’ve been much more naked than this before, yet I’ve never felt so utterly exposed. His gaze takes in everything, not just skin and muscle but every tremor, every twitch, right down to the nerves weaving their way through my bones.
“Relax, Molly,” he breathes, his lips hovering beside my ear, his breath fanning over my skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you.”
His lips trail butterfly kisses over my neck and shoulder as his hand slowly closes over mine. “Not in here. Upstairs?”
I shake my head vehemently without even thinking about it. There are too many memories lingering in the shadows upstairs, just waiting to destroy this moment I’m losing myself in.
“Okay,” he whispers, his lips working their way along my arm to the hand he’s holding before he pulls upright and grins wickedly at me. “There’s only one problem.”
“P-problem?” I stutter out, every nerve in my body pulling me towards him like a magnet.
“Mmm,” he hums, his fingers dancing over my chest and down my stomach that flutters at his touch. “You’re still wearing too many clothes.”
I can’t help it. I giggle like a child caught doing something they shouldn’t be, enjoying the way the amber strands in his eyes seem to almost take over, lightening them completely.
“The good thing, though, is that I’m a doctor, and removing clothes efficiently is one of my specialities.”
No sooner has he finished speaking than my leggings have been ripped from my body in one swift, practiced movement and my exposed body is lifted onto the counter.
“You’re very good at that, Doctor Sebastian,” I croon, reaching out to pull him to me. He wedges himself between my legs, his fingers dusting over every inch of me, driving me wild with my need for him.
“I’m even better at the next bit,” he boasts, eyes blazing with both lust and enjoyment.
Closing my eyes and dragging in the deepest breath of my life, I feel his strong, masculine scent override my senses and pull his lips to mine, whispering against them, “Prove it.”
And oh boy does he prove it. Every single millimetre of his body is perfect as it becomes intimately acquainted with mine. He draws sounds and sensations from my body that I never would have dreamed possible. By the time he finally joins us as one, I’m a quivering, begging mess, screaming out for more, for everything he has to give.
Every movement of his body sends mine spiralling higher and higher into ecstasy until I’ve forgotten my own name, where we are—everything but the way it feels to be wholly and completely with this man who makes me feel more alive than I ever have before.
Lights flash on the edge of my vision as a volcano erupts inside me, pleasure hitting every single corner of my body as I cry out incoherent sounds, my lips unable to even conjure up his name in the maze of agonising bliss he’s creating. That we’re creating together.
He hasn’t forgotten my name, though. Our eyes meet as he shudders all around and inside me, my name leaving his lips over and over like a prayer as our sated bodies fall together, lost in the moment.
Lost.
But as long as we’re together, his strong arms holding my broken pieces together, I have no desire to ever be found again.
I’m awake and making the most of the calm only daybreak brings a few days later.
I have my headphones on and music filling my ears, encouraging movement and lifting my mood. Each note swells inside my chest and travels to the very tips of my toes and fingers, inspiring me and reminding me that I can still have this little piece of solitude in my new life—that nothing has changed in that respect.
Music still owns my heart.
And dance still owns my soul.
When I switch off my music and collapse into a hot messy heap on the floor, I notice a cream envelope poking out from underneath my door. I crawl over and pick it up. I know who it’s from without even looking at the writing. It has George’s scent all over it.
Dearest Imogen,
I would very much like to spend the day with you.
I have plans. I hope you’re willing to trust me and that you’ll accept this invitation for a day together.
I have everything organised. I just need your acceptance. I very much hope you’ll give me the gift of your company.
Please let me know the usual way.
Longing to see you.
Yours, as always.
George
I grin as I reread the invitation. It’s so formal and sophisticated, and so very like George.
Eager to know what these plans are, I tap my ring and think of the man himself. I wait for him to let me know he’s there before I tell him with excitement that I would love to spend the day with him.
He replies instantly with enthusiasm, and tells me to dress practically in case it’s cold and to meet him at the front of the house at nine-thirty.
I take a long leisurely shower and take extra time to blow dry and curl my hair into loose waves. I keep my makeup natural and dress in my favourite pair of jeans and a white shirt, slipping a navy blazer over the top and looping a cream scarf around my neck. I finish the outfit off with my black low-heeled boots and the soft beanie that matches my scarf.
In my eagerness to see him, I’m standing waiting for him fifteen minutes early. When I hear footsteps behind me, I turn just in time to see him strolling towards me looking staggeringly handsome.
As usual, he’s smartly dressed and sporting the most beautiful dark grey woollen coat. He smiles as he gets closer to me and in that second I think, rather ridiculously but totally truthfully, that the sun has nothing on this man. “Good morning, Imogen.” He beams, stopping just in front of me, his hands twitching at his sides. “How are you?”
I roll my eyes and step closer, only stopping when my body is pressed against his. I close the space between us and press my lips to his. Resting my hands on his face, I kiss him. I delight in being able to do this, being able to show him how much I adore him.
His shocked lips take a second before they kiss me back. Only stopping because I need air, I pull back. “Don’t be so formal with your greetings. I expect a kiss each time—none of this keeping me at arm’s length malarkey now, understand?”
He chuckles and pulls me in a little tighter. “This will take some getting used to. I’ve not really… It’s just different for me. Accept that I need your guidance as much as you may need mine.”
“I always need your guidance,” I tell him, kissing him again. “And your lips… and your arms… and your body… and your—”
He stops my next words with another kiss, a kiss so deep and long I feel it in my soul. ”No more. I’ve planned a whole day together and I need to keep focused for it to happen.”
I nod before linking my arm with his. “So what ar
e we doing?” I ask as we walk down the long driveway.
“Do you like horses?”
“Horses?”
“Yes, I planned for us to go horse riding. We have a picnic packed and I thought perhaps we could make a day of it, just the two of us.”
I stop and pull on his hand until he steps closer so I can wrap my arms around his waist and stand on tiptoes to look up into his eyes. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” I smile. “Can you ride?”
“Yes,” he smiles back, pressing a small kiss to my lips. “I learned when I was very small and it’s not something I’ve ever forgotten. I ride out with Leo often.”
“You know you and Leo are like an alien species to me, right? You’re so polite and always so neatly put together, eloquent and perfect gentleman, and then there’s me.”
He tugs on my hand and we continue walking up the driveway. “There is nothing wrong with you, Imogen. Different times, different people.”
“You can say that all you like, but I think, even if I were alive when you were, I wouldn’t have fitted in. My behaviour would have been socially unacceptable. I’m okay with that. I just don’t see what you see in me, that’s all.”
It’s his turn to stop us then. “You don’t see what I see in you? Imogen, I see the world in you. I see the stars and the moon. I see the sun and the rainbow. I see everything in you, and I love every single part of you.” He leans forward and traces his thumb over my cheek. “Never question your place in my life, or anyone else’s. I’ll remind you always that I am blessed to have you, and those who are lucky enough to spend time with you are blessed also. You bring the sunshine on the darkest of days. You bring peace.”
