by Grace Lowrie
Afterwards we lay quietly, naked in each other’s arms. As my scattered senses slowly returned I started to wonder if I was dreaming. What on earth was that? I’d never known pleasure like it. Admittedly my sexual experience had been limited to just five men until now, four of whom were decidedly unremarkable in the bedroom – the other exceptional but brief encounter I had tried hard to forget. But still … Was it always that wonderful, that sensual with a woman? Or was it just Celeste? I knew I’d have regrets in the morning but right now I was too happy and relaxed to worry about it, and soon slipped into a deep, sated, slumber.
The next morning I woke to find Celeste still asleep beside me and the sun casting bright shafts of light in through the bay window. As I quietly slipped out of her bed and staggered into the bathroom, I briefly caught sight of myself in the mirror. How did I still look the same? When I returned to the bedroom Celeste looked at me with a lopsided grin. Her expression was infectious and I shook my head in amused disbelief as I clambered back into bed and hid my face in a pillow.
‘Do you wanna talk about it, Tasha?’ she whispered with a smile in her voice.
‘Not really,’ I mumbled.
‘OK,’ she said lightly.
I was surprised that Celeste was happy to drop the subject, just like that, but I made no comment.
‘Had you ever been with a girl before?’ she asked, after only five seconds’ hesitation.
I laughed. ‘No,’ I said turning my face towards her, despite my embarrassment.
She seemed pleased. ‘Me neither.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course not.’
I was amazed – Celeste must have had plenty of opportunities to experiment over the years and the night before she had seemed so … confident, skilful … But she assured me it was her first time and I believed her. I was relieved to discover that there was no awkwardness between us – our friendship felt stronger than ever. We joked about how we shouldn’t drink so much in future and made plans for lunch.
Chapter Twenty-one
Was he going to kiss me goodnight? Should I let him? Would it be awkward if I didn’t? As we entered the Underground platform I glanced at the destination board, relieved to see there would be a train in just two minutes time.
‘Thank you so much, Scott, I really enjoyed myself,’ I smiled honestly.
‘Me too,’ Scott agreed, standing close and searching my face. I noticed that he was slightly shorter than me, although I was wearing heels. Celeste had suggested I team a pair of boots with my dress and jacket and she had been right – it was the perfect outfit for a wet September evening and the perfect outfit for a date.
‘So, would you like to do this again?’ Scott asked. I had been dreading this question. Scott was a genuinely lovely guy; he was smart, funny, laid back, and we’d just been on the best first date I’d ever experienced. And yet …
‘Um, I don’t know, Scott, I’ve got the IAC exhibition coming up and I’m going to have to work a lot of evenings, weekends …’ I trailed off as I realised he was smiling.
‘Hey, don’t sweat it, Tash, if you’ve got other things going on that’s cool.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Seriously, it’s cool. Personally I think we’d be great together, but I’m not about to pressure you into anything you’re not ready for.’ He shrugged and smiled. He really was a lovely guy.
‘Thank you,’ I said raising my voice above the rumble of the approaching train. ‘I really did have a great time.’
‘I know,’ he said with a cheeky grin. The train pulled into the station and the doors opened. ‘You sure I can’t walk you home or call you a cab or anything?’
‘No, honestly, thank you, it’s not far …’ I stepped onto the train and turned back to him as he stood on the platform.
‘Bye, Scott,’ I said shyly, pecking him on the cheek.
‘Night, babe.’ He winked at me as the doors closed and raised a hand in farewell as my train disappeared into a tunnel.
I sat on the Central line debating whether I’d made the right decision – Freya was right, Scott was a real catch. But realistically a relationship with Scott just wouldn’t have been fair to him. The sad truth was that it didn’t matter who I was with, or how good a time I was having, I’d always rather be with the Walkers. I just couldn’t start a relationship, knowing that my head and my heart would always be somewhere else.
It was pouring with rain when I let myself in to the house just after midnight. I kicked off my boots and hung up my jacket but I didn’t call out in case the twins were asleep.
On the first floor The Black Eyed Peas were pulsing out of Celeste’s brightly lit studio and I knocked ineffectually on the door as I entered. Celeste was perched on a stool at a cutting table, one bare leg drawn up and held close, her flimsy silk dressing gown only just preserving her modesty. The large woolly socks on her feet were her only concession to autumn as she furiously scribbled on paper with coloured pens, a large glass of Merlot and an empty bottle on the surface beside her.
‘You’re back!’ she said, her voice lost in the music. She turned the volume down on a small remote control as I approached and I noticed she looked tired around the eyes.
‘It’s late, Celeste, you’re still working?’ I asked, eyeing the hastily sketched creations before her. She self-consciously shuffled the papers together into a pile.
‘I couldn’t sleep, how was it?’ she asked.
‘It was good. Really good actually – he’s such a lovely guy.’ Celeste nodded and started collecting up her pens. ‘Are you OK, Celeste?’
‘Yeah, fine,’ she said unconvincingly. ‘So when are you seeing him again?’
‘I’m not’ I told her. ‘At least, not in a dating sense – I’ll still see him around at work I suppose.’
‘Why not?’
I sighed. ‘He doesn’t set my soul alight,’ I said softly, recalling Celeste’s words to me six years previously.
As I watched, a smile spread across Celeste’s face, transforming her as if she was being lit from within.
‘You don’t have to look so happy about it,’ I said, bemused by her reaction.
‘Sorry, darling, I want you to be happy, you know that … but I was worried I’d lose you,’ she admitted, blushing.
I smiled, touched by her honesty, and pulled her into a hug. ‘You’re never going to lose me,’ I said. ‘But you do realise that we’ll probably both meet guys and have relationships eventually.’
‘I know, eventually,’ she murmured into my shoulder, ‘but not just yet.’
I pulled away and looked at her. ‘Were you waiting up for me?’
‘Yes, but it’s Sebastian’s fault,’ she said grimly, offering me some wine.
I declined with a shake of my head. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mentioned you were out on a date but when I admitted I didn’t know where exactly you were going, or how you were getting home, he got all cross with me. I told him that you were sensible enough to meet the guy in public and that you wouldn’t do anything stupid – but you know what he’s like – overprotective, control freaky … Anyway once he put those sorts of ideas in my head I was too worried to sleep! So blame him.’
‘OK,’ I said, baffled.
‘Actually, you should probably go and let him know that you’re back – put his mind at rest.’
‘Alright, I’ll go and see him in a bit.’
At Celeste’s request I sat cross-legged on her bed and related every detail of my date with Scott, but it wasn’t long before she was asleep and I quietly took my leave.
I was on my way down to the kitchen when I picked up on a strange rhythmic thumping noise that I hadn’t heard before. I followed the sound to the gym where the door was ajar and I slipped inside. Sebastian was running flat out on a treadmill, in a pool of light, his skin shiny with sweat. He ran in a T-shirt, shorts, and trainers, with his back to me and headphones in his ears. A dark triangle of sweat had formed between hi
s shoulder blades as they rose and fell in rhythm and his leg muscles smoothly contracted and relaxed with each powerful step. I moved into the room, as if compelled, hugging the wall until I could see his face. His eyes were shut and his stride was effortlessly athletic, as if he could run forever. I wondered what he was thinking; why he was running in the middle of the night; why he had been worried about me … But his pace was determined and I was unsure whether I should disturb him; he may not welcome the interruption. Instead I hovered in the shadows mesmerised, drinking in the sight of his strong, streamlined body, so potently masculine and self-assured. It called to me on some deep carnal level that I’d never explored. Only Sebastian had this effect on me.
Suddenly his eyes opened, meeting mine and halting my breath. His steps didn’t falter and he didn’t smile. His eyes roamed casually up and down my body, making me squirm inside, and then, without dropping his gaze, he pressed a button and began to slow. As he removed the headphones from his ears, stepped down from the machine and walked towards me I worried that he might be angry with me …
But Sebastian grabbed my hips and kissed me hard, forcing me back against the wall. Unable to resist I threw my arms around his neck and fisted my hands in his damp hair, pulling him closer. He smelled warm and salty, his leg hair tickled my skin, and his sweat clung to my thin dress. He growled low down in his heaving chest, lifted and carried me into the wet room, his muscles bulging under my fingertips. He set me down, switched on the shower, and locked the door securely behind us. I watched hungrily as he efficiently kicked off his trainers and peeled off the rest of his clothes. He looked like an Adonis, making me feel strangely wanton.
Sebastian’s dark eyes glowed with excitement as he took a predatory step towards me. I instinctively stepped back in response. We took three more steps until we were standing face to face under the cascade of hot water; my dress transparent and clinging like a second skin. Sebastian dropped to his knees in front of me and suckled my nipples coarsely through the fabric, pulling me close as he squeezed my bottom with his hands. I clutched his shoulders to steady myself as he pulled down my panties so that I could step out of them. Then he lifted my thigh up and out to the side, dipped his head, and possessed my sex with his mouth, his stubble rasping my sensitive skin, his tongue expertly teasing my clitoris. I swooned with pleasure as tremors swept through me, my climax building.
Without warning Sebastian stood and dragged my dress off over my head. He pressed me back against the smooth, slate-tiled wall, lifted me high up by my hips, and deftly lowered me down onto his engorged length, filling me to the hilt. I clamped my arms and legs around him as he began to thrust urgently. I surrendered myself to the ride; my fingers gripping his hair and my back arching as he slammed against my sweet-spot again and again, forcing me higher and higher until I shattered forcefully into a thousand pieces and he came inside me, growling my name.
Afterwards I didn’t wait for Sebastian to speak. I didn’t want to hear him apologise; tell me it shouldn’t have happened; that it was all a mistake. I knew he was right but I couldn’t bear to hear it. As soon as he released me and my legs felt strong enough to carry me I wrapped myself in a towel, grabbed my wet clothes, and left. Sebastian didn’t say a word.
Chapter Twenty-two
As October unfurled, damp and cloudy and the evenings closed in, the grand opening of the Arts and Crafts exhibition advanced resolutely in to view. By Friday evening, working twelve-hour days was taking its toll and I felt absolutely shattered. With my heavy workload and crashing at my own flat every night I hadn’t seen the twins for more than a week. Celeste was away in Paris for Fashion Week and she said that Sebastian was tied up with his ambitious New York project, though I suspect he was also keen to avoid me; we hadn’t spoken since the wet room incident.
I missed the long summer days we used to spend lounging by the swimming pool sipping cocktails. Nowadays the pool was all covered up for the winter and disguised under a carpet of dead leaves. The exhibition seemed to be on track though and Evelyn was pleased – hence she’d sent me home to get some sleep so that we could liaise with Technical Services and make any final adjustments with fresh eyes in the morning.
It was rush hour and a clear day so I bypassed the busy Underground in favour of the cool air and slightly less-crowded pavement above ground. I walked briskly, neatly side-stepping dawdling tourists, and mentally browsing my kitchen cupboards for possible dinner ingredients.
As I turned into Cromwell Place, rummaging about in my handbag for my phone, I heard a commotion behind me, but before I could turn I was abruptly shoved forwards and crashed to the pavement, landing hard on my hands and knees. Whoever had pushed me kept running full pelt along the street, with two London Underground security officers in hot pursuit, and the frenzied chase was quickly swallowed up in the general bustle of the city. For a second I was stunned and disorientated – I was seven years old and I’d just been pushed over in the playground, cowed with humiliation and fear. But I quickly came to my senses, hastily staggering to my feet, brushing myself down and muttering ‘ouch’ under my breath. Both my knees were grazed just below the hem of my skirt and blood was oozing through my torn stockings.
‘Are you OK, love?’ A large, middle-aged lady with several bulging shopping bags patted my arm. ‘That was a nasty tumble!’
‘Yes, I’m fine but I … I had a phone …’
The woman stooped and plucked my mobile phone out of the gutter, ‘This it?’ As she handed it to me my heart sank at the sight of the cracked black screen, but I thanked her for her help and she went on her way.
‘Tasha?’ I looked up to see Dan Stanton crossing the road towards me. ‘Oh my God, are you OK? That guy just came out of nowhere!’
‘Hi, yes, I’m fine, I think, I …’ I felt flustered and embarrassed.
‘Shit, you’re bleeding, should I get you some help? I can call an ambulance?’
‘God, no! Honestly, I’m fine, just a bit shaken I think.’
‘Well look why don’t you come with me, have a sit down and get your breath back.’
‘OK.’
‘C’mon, let’s go just over here.’ I let Dan put an arm around me and went with him, grateful for his support now that my legs had turned to jelly. I was expecting him to take me to a coffee shop or something but the next thing I knew we were entering a grand terrace of white stucco houses like those that lined the streets of Belgravia. Beyond the heavy black door lay a comfortable-looking foyer, a reception desk, richly upholstered seats, and a glass coffee table complete with up-market magazines and biscuits. Dan led me over to an armchair and sat me down while I tried to think clearly.
‘Geraldine, this is Tasha,’ Dan said to the neatly groomed, silver-haired receptionist. ‘She’s just been knocked down by some guy in the street.’
‘Good heavens!’ she remarked.
‘Do you think you could make her a cup of tea while I get the first aid kit?’
‘Yes, of course. Is there anything else I can do?’ she asked me kindly.
I smiled weakly and shook my head. It was only as I was left alone that I joined the dots and realised where I was – Denby Wright and Partners London office – Sebastian’s place of work. I’d had no idea that his office was so close to mine. My hands and knees were really stinging by now, but this knowledge distracted me from the pain. Was he here now?
There were some framed headshots and group photographs mounted on the opposite wall across the room and curiosity soon got the better of me. I hobbled over and scanned the sea of faces – I spotted him immediately in the second row, his piercing blue eyes jumping out at me, assessing me coolly, professionally, his distinctive scar just visible. Dan came back into the room triumphantly clutching a green plastic first aid kit and as I turned I did a double take. The same set of blue eyes was staring at me intently from another room, through a glass door.
Sebastian was seated some distance away at a large oval table. He was in a meeting with half a
dozen other men, all in suits, all seated around the table. One of them was speaking and everyone else, apart from Sebastian, was paying close attention to what was being said. If the alarm on Sebastian’s face was anything to go by I must have looked a mess, even from a distance. I blinked rapidly and smiled nervously at him as I let Dan lead me back to an armchair.
‘I should go really …’ I said lamely, but Geraldine and Dan were having none of it. I gratefully sipped sweet tea while Dan gingerly picked the grit from my knees. Suddenly the glass door opened and Sebastian strode towards us, his expression grim.
‘What’s going on?’ he enquired without smiling.
I could only gape at him.
‘Some arsehole just knocked Tasha to the ground,’ Dan explained, his language making Geraldine wince.
‘Are you alright?’ Sebastian asked me as he watched Dan tenderly wipe my legs with antiseptic.
‘Yes, I’ll be fine,’ I murmured embarrassed.
‘Maybe you should go to hospital and get checked out properly?’ he suggested with a frown, but before I could respond a colleague of Sebastian’s appeared at his side.
‘Sorry, Walker, but we really need you back in there …’
‘I know,’ Sebastian replied tersely. It was obviously a bad time.
‘I’m fine, Sebastian, honestly. Dan’s looking after me.’
‘Yeah, don’t worry – I’ll take good care of her,’ Dan said. ‘I can take you home if you’d like?’ he added smiling up at me.
‘Walker?’ Sebastian’s colleague prompted.
‘Go back to your meeting,’ I urged. Sebastian gave me a final unreadable look before striding back into the conference room out of sight, without a word.
I subtly released a long breath. I was unsure what to make of Sebastian’s mood. Was he angry with me? Why? Because I inadvertently interrupted his meeting? Turned up at his workplace uninvited? Did he think it was deliberate? That I was stalking him or something? I cringed inwardly at my runaway thoughts and decided to worry about it later. I thanked Dan and Geraldine for all their kind help and attention and persuaded them to let me leave under my own steam, although Dan still insisted on walking me as far as Gloucester Road station.
