The Second Time I Saw You: The Oxford Blue Series #2

by Pippa Croft

  On Saturday morning, I wake up in Alexander’s bed to find him sitting next to me and watching me thoughtfully.

  I rub sleep from my eyes. ‘Hiya. Anything wrong?’

  He slants me a sexy smile. ‘Should there be?’

  ‘I hope not but you seem to be scrutinizing me.’

  ‘Scrutinizing?’ He shakes his head.

  ‘Wrong choice of words. It’s early, but how long have you been watching me? Have I been talking in my sleep?’

  ‘Do you have a guilty conscience?’

  ‘Now, why would you think that?’ I laugh. He glances down at his hands, toying with the signet ring on his little finger. You know, I think I still haven’t actually lied about keeping Emma’s secret. I’ve decided no news is good news as far as Henry is concerned, and if she’s coming to spend the weekend with us, at least there won’t be any problem from that direction, but Alexander is acting strangely this morning.

  ‘Lauren …’

  I slide up the pillows, instantly put on the alert by the tone of his voice. ‘What?’

  ‘I have to go away for a few days.’

  I knew something was coming. ‘Uh-huh. This is not a trip to the seaside, I guess.’

  ‘There may be sand involved.’

  It’s meant to be a dark joke. ‘But you won’t be sitting on a lounger with a Mojito?’

  ‘Unfortunately not.’ He plays with the ribbon of my cami idly but I think he doesn’t want to look me in the face.

  ‘When do you leave?’

  ‘Thursday, and it means I won’t be able to come to the Boat Race party.’

  I try not to show my disappointment. ‘Hey, I knew you’d do anything to get out of watching the rowing.’

  ‘Of course. I can’t face seeing Brett’s moment of triumph.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘This is a little OTT, however, even for you.’

  ‘Like you say, I’d do anything to avoid a party.’

  ‘I understand that you have to go sometimes but I thought they didn’t need you at the moment, I thought they were leaving you alone to get on with your master’s?’

  He glances up at me. ‘They were, but I volunteered.’

  I sit up straight. ‘You did what?’

  ‘One of the guys … he’s a good friend of mine and he was injured on a training exercise. They needed someone with his special skills to step in and there was only me.’

  ‘Special skills? You mean a foreign language? Dressmaking?’ I say, trying to make light of this news, while shocked at his revelation. I don’t know which is worse, that he’s going or that he volunteered.

  Impatience and, perhaps, guilt break out in his voice. ‘Not exactly. Look, Lauren, I knew you wouldn’t like it and I’m sorry about not being able to make the party, but I have to go.’

  ‘Where are you going? Helmand? The Middle East? North Africa?’

  ‘You know I can’t tell you and it wouldn’t help, even if I did, but there’s no need to worry about me.’

  ‘I’m not worried, just furious.’

  He smiles at my joke, or maybe because he knows I’m only half joking. ‘It’s only a short op so I promise I’ll be back before you fly home to Washington.’

  I know better than to rely on his promises by now but I let this pass. ‘What about Emma? What will you tell her?’

  ‘I’ll tell Emma I’m on a training exercise, like I always do. If she asks for any details, that’s what I’ve told you too.’ His lips graze mine in a casual kiss that’s meant to disarm my frustration and worries. My skin prickles with unease, despite his reassurances. This, I remind myself, is because I was looking forward to the party and to making the most of every moment with him until I go back to Washington, not because I am worried about him.

  He lies down and pulls me down next to him. ‘I’ll be back. You know you can’t get away from me,’ he says, his eyes full of amusement. I sense a distraction tactic incoming at any moment …

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Oh, I know, Lauren.’

  I ought to challenge him but he captures my mouth in a kiss so long and deep I truly think it may go on for ever. I want it to go on for ever.

  He lowers his head and slides his tongue between my lips for another delicious French kiss. When it ends, he skims the back of his hand, with agonizing slowness, between my breasts, down my stomach, until his fingers pause at my mound, gently tapping it until I ache for him to push his fingers inside me.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. He must know I’m in no position to complain now, with his fingers holding me to ransom.

  ‘It’s OK, I understand.’ I push my pelvis against his hand and manage a strangled, ‘Hey, I never expected to compete with world peace.’

  He smiles, circling me with his fingertips, so lightly and tantalizingly that I want to scream. ‘I’m not sure that peacekeeping will play much part in the proceedings.’

  I know I’m being teased and I can’t stand it any longer. ‘And I’m not sure your mind’s completely on the task in hand.’

  He looks into my face. ‘I must try harder then.’ Ah, finally. He slides his fingertip inside me and I moan in sheer relief. I’m already creamy and whimper in delight as he uses my own juices to lubricate my clit and my entrance. When he slips another finger inside me, then another, and presses on my G-spot, I could take right off from the bed.

  I’m writhing now, arching my pelvis towards him like a desperate woman as he pushes his fingers in and out of me, driving me wild.

  ‘Hold that thought,’ he murmurs.

  While I keep up the pressure on my clit myself, he gets off the bed and pulls his top over his head. His jeans are down and off in no time, showing me he’s just as ready for me as I am for him. Then he’s back on the bed beside me, so we’re face to face, with no hiding place from each other.

  ‘Who’s going to come first this morning?’ he says, his steely erection butting my entrance.

  ‘I don’t care.’

  He enters me, slowly, carefully, and then rolls me gently back on to my side, straddling my hip with his thigh. We have to wrap our arms around each other, and we’re still face to face while he moves gently in and out of me. My thighs are pressed together which intensifies the snug fit of him.

  ‘You are so tight like this. I love it.’

  ‘Me too.’

  It’s super intimate and leaves no hiding place. With each slow, careful thrust into me, he never takes his eyes from me. I flatten my palms over his butt and wriggle around his shaft.

  ‘Fuck, I can’t hold on,’ he says, his voice ragged.

  ‘Don’t. Enjoy. Permission to come, Captain Hunt.’

  So he goes for it, rolling over and shifting his weight on to his elbows so he can drive into me without restraint. The mattress complains and the headboard bangs against the wall. I dig my nails into his back and his buttocks, knowing he won’t even notice, he’s so intent on screwing me. I feel him tauten and his whole body seems to let out a massive cry of relief when he comes, pumping into me. I’m on the edge myself, not quite there, but I don’t care. I love doing this to him, making him lose control completely.

  Carefully, he pulls out of me and lies back, exhausted.

  I prop myself up on one elbow, watching him come down and he opens his eyes lazily. ‘Come here,’ he commands.

  After he’s gone down on me and brought me to a shameful mess of writhing and begging, we lie together in a tangle of sheets.

  ‘That wasn’t bad,’ he says and I shake my head at his understatement.

  ‘You know damn well it was amazing, Captain Hunt.’

  ‘Mmm, on this occasion, I’ll probably have to agree.’ He robs any protest from my lips with a kiss. I close my eyes at the soft pressure of his mouth on mine and the gentle sweep of his tongue on the roof of my mouth that leaves my palate tingling.

  ‘I’d like to stay in bed all day. In fact, I’d like to stay here for the rest of the year,’ he whispers.

  ‘We could be found dead
of exhaustion but with smiles on our faces. Imagine being found by Robert. I can see him now.’ I mimic Robert’s deferential voice: ‘I’m so sorry, my lord, I didn’t realize I was interrupting something.’

  Alexander joins in. ‘Shall I come back when Miss Cusack has finished giving you a blow job?’ Then he shakes his head. ‘I shouldn’t take the piss. Robert is a loyal and invaluable member of staff and I wouldn’t blame him if he and Helen told us all to fuck off after all the shit that’s been going on. It can’t have been easy living with the Hunts, any of us.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ I say, totally joking but Alexander shoots me a look; he’s not offended but there’s something else there.

  ‘No, I don’t think I could expect many people to put up with it …’

  He has the same expression I saw in Rome before Emma’s teacher phoned. The flicker of doubt and uncertainty. Alexander is unsure of himself. I do the mental equivalent of holding my breath. I think we both do, because a second or two later, we both laugh in unison.

  We’re both cowards.

  Alexander breaks eye contact first. ‘I’d better get up. I need to do some work before Emma gets here.’ He gets off the bed swiftly, turning his back on me while I lie there.

  ‘Do you want a shower first?’ he says.

  My answer is interrupted by his phone ringing. I can tell how on edge he is by the way he snatches it off the dresser and answers: ‘Hunt.’

  From the way he keeps his back to me, and his clipped responses, he’s definitely not comfortable with me being in the room.

  ‘I’ll go take a shower,’ I murmur but I don’t think he even hears me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Brandon delivered Emma to the house after lunch and we went to see the shrunken heads at the Pitt Rivers Museum – her choice, but hey, each to their own – while Alexander met his tutor. Then we all went to dinner at Jamie’s – also Emma’s choice – before coming back to the house.

  Now, Emma’s Skyping her friends, and I’m curled up on the sofa with Alexander. He’s drinking a beer from the bottle and watching the flames flicker in the hearth. I feel his fingers idly playing with my hair.

  ‘I have to go to a regimental dinner tomorrow evening,’ he says over the top of my head.

  ‘OK. This is out of the blue.’

  ‘I didn’t know my presence was required until earlier today but I can’t miss it. If it’s any consolation, it won’t be all pleasure because there are some people I need to meet while I’m there before I leave on Thursday. I won’t be late but do you mind keeping Emma company?’

  I squash down my disappointment at this. ‘No, but she might mind it a lot.’

  ‘I doubt it. She likes you, which, believe me, is a great honour, if not a privilege.’

  I laugh and twist around so I can see his face. ‘I do appreciate what you’ve done for her this term. She can be difficult to handle, but I can tell how much she trusts you. You get on better with her than I do.’

  He kisses me and I summon up a smile. ‘I suppose we could get in a pizza and watch DVDs. How girly is that?’

  He laughs softly, and there’s definitely a touch of relief there. ‘I’m almost glad I have to go to the dinner.’

  On Sunday night, at seven, Alexander goes off in his mess dress, looking so handsome and sexy I want to screw him right there and then in the hallway. He leaves, with a kiss for us both that Emma pretends to hate, and I close the door, wishing he didn’t have to go on this ‘op’, whatever it is. I don’t totally mind hanging out with Emma, but it wasn’t how I planned to spend my Sunday evening.

  ‘So, do you want Chinese, Indian or a pizza?’ I ask, following Emma into the sitting room. ‘And for dessert, do you fancy Max Irons, Channing Tatum or Tom Hiddleston?’

  She hesitates. ‘Actually, I was thinking of going out.’

  ‘Do you want to eat out, then? We could go to one of the places in Little Clarendon Street and into G&Ds after we’ve had dinner.’

  She looks sheepish. ‘I meant, out on my own. Well, not literally on my own but I’ve arranged to meet some friends from school.’

  This statement fills me with a sense of foreboding to rival a horror movie.

  ‘I don’t think that’s a great idea. Oxford can be a little lively.’

  ‘On a Sunday night?’ She giggles.

  ‘Well, Alexander may not agree, and he’s expecting me to keep you company this evening. How will he feel if he knows you’ve gone out alone?’

  ‘You mean he’s expecting you to keep an eye on me. Oh come on, Lauren. You’re not much older than me. You must have hated it when your parents went all over-protective. You’ve told me you had a hell of a job getting them to accept that you wanted to study here.’

  Now, this is sneaky, I think, and I’m not going to be a pushover. ‘No, I’m not that much older but twenty-one is way different to seventeen, in all kinds of ways, and this situation is different. If you go out on your own, I’ll never forgive myself if something happens.’ I smile at her and try to keep my tone light, while seething inside. ‘You wouldn’t want me to worry any more than I already do, would you?’

  She sighs and shakes her head, as if I’m the kid. I have a horrible feeling I’m losing the battle and I feel a stir of panic.

  ‘Stop stressing,’ she says. ‘We’ll be perfectly safe, because I’ve arranged to meet my mates at a pub out in the country.’

  ‘What mates?’ I shoot back.

  ‘Allegra and Rachel and a couple of boys.’

  Hearing Allegra’s name does not fill me with confidence. ‘At the pub? Remember, you’re not eighteen yet; you can’t drink alcohol.’ Oh fuck, is there nothing I can say that won’t make me sound exactly like my mother? But I don’t care. I smell bullshit.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to disgrace myself again, and the boys are in the Upper Sixth at their school so they’re mostly over eighteen. I’ll stick to Coke, I promise, and I’ve already booked a cab so there’s no need to ask Brandon to take me.’

  Don’t worry, I had no intention, I think, knowing Emma’s real reason for not using Brandon is that she’s terrified Alexander will find out.

  ‘When will you be back?’ I ask sharply.

  ‘Oh, by eleven at the latest, well before Alex gets back. Will you be OK here on your own without me? And you won’t let on to Alex, of course … You know he’s paranoid.’

  I am momentarily speechless at this comment but I honestly don’t know what more I can do, short of barricading the front door or calling Alexander back from his dinner. ‘I’d like to know the name of the pub.’

  She sighs. ‘The White Hart at Woodstock. I’ll text you when I get there.’ I must still look worried because she hugs me. ‘Please don’t worry. I’ll be fine and I’m desperate for an evening out after the past term. I promise I won’t get into any trouble.’

  ‘You don’t have to make me any promises you can’t keep.’ I’m only half joking and still wondering if I should call Alexander after all, or threaten to do so.

  ‘I don’t have to do anything but since Alex decided to cast you in the role of jailer, I swear I’ll behave.’ She crosses her fingers over her chest. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

  ‘And this is meant to reassure me?’

  She laughs but I almost feel sick. ‘You are funny, and cool. Alex should marry you.’

  ‘What if I don’t want to marry him?’

  She laughs. ‘Every girl does, don’t they? Though God knows why; he’s just plain weird at times.’

  ‘Would it stop you if I stand in front of the door?’ I say a short time later, watching her apply a last coat of lip gloss in the hall mirror before shrugging on her velvet Goth coat.

  She gives me a quick hug and trills, ‘Not one bit. Now please, stop stressing. I’ll be back in no time.’

  ‘Make sure it’s well before eleven or I’m not refereeing the bout between you and Alexander.’

  She giggles. ‘There will be no need to re
feree anything. I’ll be tucked up in bed before he gets in, if he even notices. He’ll probably be pissed anyway and way later than he said. Have a good evening.’

  Like it’s going to be a blast. I grab some granola, yoghurt and fresh pineapple from the fridge, as if eating healthily will make up for the unease I feel at letting Emma out ‘on licence’ and being put in this position by Alexander. I pour myself a large glass of chilled Sauvignon and read through my take-home exam questions again to try to distract myself from worrying about Emma. Man, they really are as horrible as I remembered.

  ‘Lauren?’

  Alexander shakes my shoulder. His breath is warm and smells of whisky but he has a sexy smile on his face.

  ‘Uh … hi. What time is it?’ I blink in the lamplight and push myself up the sofa. Alexander perches on the edge of it next to me.

  ‘About half past twelve. Sorry I’m so late. Did you two have a good evening?’

  Oh hell, why have they both done this to me? Why have I allowed myself to get in this situation? Fortunately, Alexander takes my garbled grunt for sleepiness. It’s then I realize that I haven’t heard Emma come in, but that’s hardly surprising.

  ‘The last thing I remember is abandoning my exam essay and trying to get into some French crime series on BBC4.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Everyone was hot in it and there was a lot of shooting, and I now know how to say “fuck” in French. I fell asleep before the end.’

  ‘Putain …’

  ‘Yeah, that would be it.’

  He starts to unbutton my shirt and mutters something that sounds like ‘couchez avec moi ce soir’, and I’m trying not to laugh while debating if he’s in a fit state to coucher at all.

  ‘We can’t shag each other down here. Emma might wake up.’

  ‘No, we can’t … Screw these tiny buttons.’

  I close my hand over his. ‘Alexander …’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘You’re a little pissed and I need the bathroom.’

  ‘You’ll be back?’

  ‘Of course.’

  I could use the guest cloakroom off the hall but instead I go upstairs. Call it a sixth sense, but I can’t help stopping outside Emma’s bedroom door. It’s closed and the light is off, which means nothing – or everything. I knock softly and there’s no answer. She’s probably asleep …