Lost in You

by Marsden, Sommer

  I smiled. ‘Only it’s not night.’

  ‘Sounds better than strangers in the rainy afternoon.’

  ‘Strangers in a monsoon?’ I teased.

  ‘It’s actually a super-storm. Like a sci-fi movie.’

  ‘When does the octosharkogator arrive?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. Up close his eyes were a true evergreen. He watched me intently. I’d never felt more naked. Especially while utterly clothed and upright.

  ‘Oh.’ I’d run out of pithy responses.

  ‘But I know I’d better do this before it gets here.’

  We didn’t stop moving. We kept rocking gently, more of a cooperative sway than a dance, as he pushed his hands into my hair and held my head. His mouth was warm and soft and tasted of sweet red wine.

  When he kissed me, I felt something in me crumble. Some part that I had fought to hold tight to, calm and stiff against all worry and loneliness. I had my grandmother, sure, but that was all I had. I treasured her but it was no substitute for some kind of romantic attachment in my life. I didn’t need a knight in shining armour, but a person to share things with wouldn’t hurt. It was a fact I rarely let myself examine. A craving I rarely let myself surrender to.

  I kissed him back and the hunger in that kiss scared me. It was terrifying, in that moment, how my hands roamed over him and my heart beat just for him. How the sound I made was a very simple broadcast of desire. Normally I’d have been mortified, horrified, embarrassed.

  I wasn’t. I was happy right there, right then, in his arms as the weather raged on.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Come on,’ I said. I took his hand and led him up the ramps. As he followed I could feel him studying me.

  ‘Clover. I don’t want you to think that you have –’

  I turned quickly. ‘You’re not going to imply that I think if I don’t kiss you – indulge you – whatever you want to call it … That if I don’t do that my job would be in trouble … are you?’

  He looked at his feet, a small smile curling his lips. ‘I just want you to understand that I kissed you because I wanted to. But I don’t expect … you don’t have to …’ He shook his head. ‘Damn. I’m usually pretty suave with those crazy things called words.’

  I could stand there and feel awkward or I could move. I grabbed his hand again, letting my giddiness sweep me along, and said, ‘I kissed you back because I wanted to. Now let me show you this. There are perks to nosing around a giant empty shopping structure. Not that I’m nosy.’ I coughed. But then I giggled. ‘It was all in the name of keeping your property safe.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. I glanced at him and found him smiling at me.

  I really liked his smile.

  ‘Oh, hush. So once in a while I like to run around here like the little girl I once was.’ As soon as I said it, I stopped short.

  Dorian stopped abruptly too. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘That doesn’t make you …’ I sighed. Why did I talk out loud? Why had I told him all that just now?

  ‘What?’

  ‘Does that make you trust me less? With this job?’

  He looked confused and then amused. ‘Good God, no. I am the nosiest person on earth. And Clover, I’d expect you to know your job. Inside and out. All the nooks and crannies.’ He touched my hand.

  ‘OK. Because I take this job seriously. I take it all seriously. It means the world to me.’

  That didn’t sound sad and lonely or anything.

  ‘I know that. And I trust you. More than just about anyone in my employ.’ He glanced up at the small green projection-room door on the very top ramp. It was marked ‘Private’ but I knew for a fact it wasn’t locked. ‘Now show me! The suspense is killing me!’

  I grinned and hurried on with Dorian Martin, rich boy extraordinaire, at my heels.

  At the top I stood still, trying to steady my heart. I wanted to kiss him again but forced the urge down and ignored it. I threw the door wide and said, ‘Tada!’

  He chuckled, flipped the lights on. ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yes, wow! Isn’t it amazing? What do you think the projectionist did up here during movies? Do you think he dressed up?’

  ‘A cross-dresser?’ He waggled his eyebrows at me.

  ‘Maybe!’ The old costumes dazzled, still hung on a long costuming rack. They had a layer of dust on them. When I visited I had fantasies about bringing a leaf-blower with me to blow the thick layer of dust off the gorgeous fabrics. Maybe a good shot of air would save the fabric, restore the costumes to their original glamour.

  ‘Why costumes?’

  ‘Originally, when they aired silent movies here and even when they had talkies, they’d have intermission and dancing girls. Girls who sold popcorn and cigarettes and candy. It’s all … it’s like a time capsule,’ I squealed.

  Dorian grabbed my forearms and kissed me.

  ‘What was that for?’

  ‘You’re so happy,’ he whispered. ‘It’s contagious.’

  I nodded and let myself just stare at him. His strong jaw and bright eyes and very, very kissable mouth. He gave me a boyish half grin and I swore I could feel my lungs deflating from the impact of that smile.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I … you –’ I shook my head and grabbed his face and kissed him. Hard.

  Every stroke of his tongue over mine made me warmer despite the invading damp from the storm. Every time he sucked gently on my tongue I felt a spike of heat fill my pussy. Every inch closer he moved as he kissed me greedily had me on the verge of just begging him to take me. Right then. Right there.

  I couldn’t do that, of course. He was still my boss, after all. Despite rabid attraction. Despite warm fuzzy feelings he somehow inspired.

  Finally I managed to pull back.

  He touched my hair. Wrapped two long strands around his fingers and tugged gently. ‘I like kissing you, Clover.’

  ‘I like that you like kissing me, Mr – Dorian.’

  ‘Reverting to mister after a kiss like that?’ He chuckled.

  I moved away from him fast. Better to get control of myself. ‘So what do you think? Isn’t it amazing?’

  ‘It is,’ Dorian said. He ran his fingers over old movie posters.

  I’d been in here many times during renovations. Often I slipped inside just to sit on the old velveteen couch and think in peace for a minute or two.

  ‘This movie was out in the Forties.’ He whistled and flipped past the poster to see what was next. ‘Fifties, Sixties. There’s some valuable stuff in here. Whoever’s been storing it could probably make a killing on eBay.’

  ‘Chuck has been running this projector for forty years, I think.’

  I walked to the small projector window and looked down into the theatre. Big well-padded seats that had been reupholstered to stay true to the original movie house. It was easy to look down and see men and women in period dress smoking cigarettes as the film played on. The original piano for the silent films was on the stage.

  Dorian moved up close behind me. I could feel his energy close to mine despite the fact that he wasn’t touching me. Not yet.

  He couldn’t see my face so he couldn’t see when I shut my eyes and willed him to touch me. I saw in the small reflection that he was moving to do just that. Reaching towards me. Then a boom sounded through the whole Rotunda, seeming to rattle the very floor beneath our feet. The lights went out and another boom echoed around us.

  Adrenalin flooded my body and I lunged towards him. Not thinking, just reacting. I grabbed him and he put his arms around me, smoothing my hair as the lights began a crazy flicker-on-flicker-off pattern.

  ‘It’s OK, Clover. Hey … it’s OK.’

  This was not the way I wanted to end up in his arms.

  After about three minutes of non-stop flickering, the lights stabilised. I looked up at him, waiting to feel sheepish or foolish. Neither came. It was too much work. All I could focus on was getting my heart-rate do
wn to a non-lethal rhythm.

  Dorian walked me to the sofa and helped me sit. By the projector, under the makeshift desk that I was pretty sure was made of a salvaged door, was a dorm-room-sized fridge. Dorian opened it and brought me a cold soda.

  ‘Drink,’ he said. ‘A little bit of sugar will help. You’re as white as a sheet.’

  ‘My sheets are blue,’ I said, attempting a joke. He tried to smile but the concern on his face won over any other expression.

  He sat next to me, took my hand and turned it palm up. He began to rub my wrist softly but firmly, right at my pulse point. ‘My mother used to do this when I didn’t feel well. I have absolutely no idea if it actually works … or what it works for, but right now it’s making me feel useful. So I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘No. I’m sorry. I feel really, really stupid. It was just a shock,’ I said. I sipped the cold cola and sighed as the sweetness burst across my tongue. I felt a little stronger. A little less transparent.

  His eyes were serious. I realised he’d been in a jovial mood since we’d met, because the seriousness I now found in his gaze changed his entire face. ‘What happened to you?’

  I looked away, suddenly fascinated with the walls, the costumes, the analogue clock ticking time away on the wall. It was nearing dinner time. We’d been wandering for that long? ‘Nothing,’ I lied.

  He pressed his lips together, looking unsure. Knowing what I knew about him, he was probably deciding whether he should let that pass or press me. His fingers continued to sweep back and forth along my pulse point. Even though it had slowed it was still somewhat erratic. I was pretty sure the erratic part was due to him touching me that way.

  ‘That was quite a reaction to noise. I’ve seen people react that way before,’ he said. He dropped my hand and took the soda from me. Then he placed the cold can in the hand he’d just released and claimed my other hand. There he was, once again sweeping his thumb back and forth across my pulse point. I felt that touch far beyond my wrist. I felt it in my belly and like a bright ball of fire in my chest. I felt it like a thundering heartbeat between my legs.

  I bit my lip and tried to focus on what he was saying.

  ‘Oh, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’ In the dim light of the office I could see his eyes had darkened but that’s all they appeared to be. Dark eyes. The green was completely hidden by the gloom. A whistle of wind could be heard and I had a bright, vivid image of the whole domed roof of the Rotunda lifting up and off the building. The worst-case scenario. A scene straight out of a tainted version of Oz.

  I refused to ask where he’d seen reactions like that. Something told me it would make a sticky situation stickier.

  ‘A few friends who’ve served overseas. One who was in a robbery when she was young. I believe the appropriate term is PTSD, nowadays.’

  I shook my head. ‘Oh, no. Nothing as horrible as that,’ I whispered.

  But I was lying. That was exactly what one shrink had called it. Though, not long after, I quickly decided therapy was not for me.

  ‘So what is it? If it’s not horrible, surely you can share.’ He smiled and it was nearly a sad smile.

  ‘I … when I was young I …’ My throat grew tight and my heart pounded. A tremor had started in my body and since he had my hand in his grip there was no hiding it from him. I pressed my legs together as if that could steady me. ‘It hardly ever bothers me!’ I blurted. ‘It was just the storm frightened me, is all. I’m really sorry.’

  I was panicking.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he said. He let my hand go and placed his at the small of my back. Small circles. That was what I felt. Small soothing circles.

  Small soothing circles for the crazy woman …

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘I was …’ I blinked furiously. I did not want to cry. I did not want to cry at all. I’d do anything to keep the tears crowding my eyes from tumbling down. ‘I was left alone. One night. When I was very young. And it was bad. That’s all. Just a misunderstanding. It was something that couldn’t be avoided. And I just –’

  ‘Clover –’

  ‘Please,’ I whispered. ‘Please don’t make me.’

  He looked surprised. It had never occurred to him, I don’t think, that by pressing the issue he was forcing me to do something against my will.

  ‘Christ,’ he muttered and pulled me against him. He simply held me there as the last of the tremors worked through me. His arm around my lower back. His heartbeat steady and calming beneath my ear. He smelled so good. Like strong man, and some kind of cologne, and sanity.

  The last part made me laugh.

  ‘I’m sorry, Clover,’ he said tugging the end of a lock of hair.

  I looked up, hesitant to break the connection with him. I didn’t know how long it would take to get another excuse to be close to him. And being close to him was something I was swiftly realising I liked.

  ‘It’s fine. I’m fine,’ I assured him. I sat up straight, feeling like an impostor. I was calm now. I couldn’t just lie there in his arms like some swooning heroine.

  Dorian stroked my hair. ‘Good. I’m glad. I’m sorry I pressed you on something that is simply none of my damn business.’

  ‘It’s fine. Thank you for caring.’

  I felt my face grow hot. That had simply slipped out. I’d had no idea I was going to say it.

  He smiled at me and touched my cheek. ‘You’re very easy to care about, you know.’

  Those words set off a waterfall of emotions in me that no one had ever managed to unleash. No man I’d dated. Not even the ones who’d told me they loved me. It was as if Dorian was the man who held a key to my feelings. A key I hadn’t even known existed until he used it to unlock those emotions in me.

  ‘No.’ Another blurt. The heat of my blush was burning my cheeks. ‘I didn’t know that I was … I didn’t know.’

  His lips came down on mine and I immediately opened my mouth to let his tongue slip inside. He stroked his tongue over mine and pulled me closer on the old velveteen couch. The smell of dust and history filled my nose and I kissed him back desperately. I wanted to climb into his lap, wrap myself around him and let him do whatever he wanted. It was an entirely new sensation to me, this surrender. And I adored it, though it scared me half to death.

  I didn’t wrap myself around him, but I did let him lean me back and cover me with his body. When his big hands left my face, traversed my hair and then moved down my body to explore me, I arched up into them. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to feel his hands all over me and I refused to examine the urge, I simply gave into it.

  ‘Clover –’

  I put my finger to his lips and shook my head. ‘Just kiss me,’ I said. And then, so he understood, ‘Yes.’

  I knew he’d worry about taking advantage. About it being too soon after my stress reaction. Too soon to take me this way. But it wasn’t too soon. It was right on time. In fact, it had been a long time coming. Since before I’d even met Dorian Martin.

  Chapter Nine

  I kissed him frantically. His forehead, his cheeks, his lips. He worked my sweater up over my belly and leaned to kiss me there. The heat of his mouth on my somewhat chilled skin was electric. Dorian dropped small gentle kisses along my skin, travelling higher until tremors hit me again but for an entirely different reason. His mouth closed over my nipple and a lusty sigh slipped out of me. I was wet. That fast. Very wet, wetter than I remembered being from something as simple as strategically placed kisses.

  ‘Do you think I’m a heel?’ He dragged his tongue from my left breast to my right. His free hand was warm against my waist where he simply held me.

  ‘Do people even say “heel” any more?’

  He chuckled. I forgot to laugh when his mouth closed possessively over my right nipple. Dorian sucked and I felt that drawing, tugging sensation all the way to the centre of me. He stroked the skin above my newly pilfered jeans and I had a moment when I simply prayed he’d slip his hand further down. Benea
th the waistband. To find that wetness I’d become so aware of.

  ‘No, people don’t. I spent too much time listening to my mother and grandmother talk.’ He moved up to kiss me on the mouth again. Still touching me with strong, sure fingers as he thrust his tongue against mine once more.

  ‘You spend a lot of time around women.’ I touched his dark hair. I really touched it, sifted my fingers through it and stroked it as I kissed him back. I wanted to touch him everywhere now that this had started.

  The lights flickered like an old movie stuttering. For the first time I didn’t care. If we lost power, I’d just keep kissing him. Just keep touching him.

  ‘Not like you. None of the women I’ve been around are even remotely like you.’ He moved to pull the sweater over my head and without even missing a beat, I raised my arms for him to do so. ‘You really trust me, don’t you?’

  It was hard to read his gaze. I touched his jaw, nodded. ‘Yes. Does that bother you?’

  ‘No. It humbles me.’ The sweater came off and I was bare beneath. My poor sodden cami lay abandoned by the front door of the building. His grin went right to my belly, making me feel as if I were falling.

  ‘I’m going to shut up now,’ I said.

  ‘Me too.’ Dorian pulled his T-shirt over his head and looked down at me. ‘I feel like there’s a casting-couch joke in here somewhere.’

  I touched his bottom lip and his tongue darted out to touch my skin. ‘I thought we weren’t talking.’

  ‘Sorry. I do tend to break rules.’ Another grin that felt like a flash-fire along my skin. How a simple smile could shut my brain down that way was new to me.

  I ran my hand along the hard evidence of his arousal. My fingers curled round the ridge of his erection and he let his eyes drift shut and sighed. But then he snagged my wrist and pinned it down, pressing himself to me, kissing my throat so my nipples turned to hard knots of flesh. His chest was warm against my breasts and he moved his body over mine, pinning me there. Dorian rocked his hips back and forth against me, his cock riding the split of my sex. The pressure and friction were breathtaking.