Page 59 of The Wedding Proposal
Elle.
His eyes flew open and there she was, rumpled blonde hair streaming across her face. Last night had been neither memory, nor dream, nor guilty fantasy. She had been real beneath him. And then on top. Fresh desire rippled through him, pleasure and satisfaction in hot pursuit.
He’d made love to Elle again.
She lay on her front, her head turned on the pillow, one arm tucked beneath. Her shoulders showed tan lines. Her spine sloped down then curved deliciously to the mounds of her behind. He lay still, just watching her breathe.
Almost as amazing as the sex was the fact she’d finally talked to him about Ricky.
He wasn’t certain that anybody would understand how secrets made something inside of him turn to prickles and what it meant to him that not only had Elle finally shared what had happened to her, but, as a bonus, her ‘secrets’ had been surprisingly palatable.
What it amounted to was that she’d made a series of bad decisions out of naivety and gullibility and married the wrong guy, in secret, a snub from which her relationship with her parents had never recovered. The memories had made her visibly cringe but, if he hadn’t thought it would hurt her feelings, he would have laughed and reassured her that worse things happened. Far worse.
For many, the post-puberty decade was crammed with crap decisions and misadventure. They experimented, risked, smoked, overindulged, sniffed, overspent, injected, rushed, loved badly, chose stupidly, suffered, lamented and repented. Show him someone who had no regrets from their young-and-stupid period, and he’d show you someone with memory loss.
Her parents’ bad reaction, echoed, unfortunately, by the sniffiness of his parents, had made her frightened to talk about her mistake. His insensitive dismissal of those feelings had made her clam up still more. But now that Elle’s barriers were down, there was no reason for her to be anything but open with him in the future.
His stomach twisted.
He and Elle could have a future.
Picking up his watch from the niche beside the bed, he glanced at the time and then turned to stroke the side of Elle’s breast with one fingertip, savouring the softness of her skin. ‘Hey, sleepy. I have to be at work by nine-thirty so Polly will be picking me up soon. What time do you have to be doing your thing at Nicolas Centre?’
Elle’s eyelids flickered; then she reared up onto her elbows, eyes wide.
He grinned. ‘Yeah, it’s me.’
‘Whoa.’ She blinked.
‘Bit freaky?’
‘Lot freaky.’ But then she smiled, slowly stretching like a cat, which made him reach for parts of her he hadn’t touched yet this morning. Then she rose up on all fours, looking suddenly wary. ‘Are we OK? Is this—?’ She made a gesture to include their two bodies.
‘This is the OKest I’ve been in years.’ By shifting only slightly he could brush a row of kisses across her breasts. Her hair hung down and trickled over the side of his face. ‘It would be even better if we didn’t have places we have to be. Because I’d much rather be inside you than under the sea.’
She breathed a laugh. ‘I have to shower.’ But she dipped so that she could lick the side of his neck, under his ear, where some of his best nerve endings got ready to party. Then she sighed and slid away.
Reluctantly, he let her slip through his hands, and watched her walk out of the door, scooping up her clothes on the way.
Stretching, yawning, he stepped into his shower enclosure, making the visit brief, as he’d soon be jumping into the sea. Towelling off, he could hear her shower still running. If she got a move on, they could have coffee together before they had to leave for the day. He hoped she had nothing planned for this evening. Then he could spend all day looking forward to coming home to Elle, as he used to.
He imagined strolling to one of the pavement cafes, hand-in-hand, or soaking up the evening sun on the flybridge, lingering over a meal they’d prepared together.
Before they went to bed. Together.
His phone chimed, announcing the arrival of a text message. He was surprised to find it was from Charlie: How’s Elle this morning? Lucas’s night with Elle had almost wiped his memory on the subject of his brother’s presence on the island.
He pulled on the shorts, stuck some euros in his pocket, grabbed a T-shirt and went out to fill the kettle. No time this morning to wait for the coffee machine. He spooned instant granules and sugar into two mugs, just as Elle emerged, her hair freshly brushed and pulled up high in a ponytail.
He grabbed her quickly, before she could turn all shy on him, and showed her Charlie’s message. ‘Bro wants to know how you are. What shall I say?’
She blushed and giggled. ‘“Better than might have been expected”?’
He grinned. ‘How about “Fucking amazing!”?’
‘Don’t you dare.’ But her magnificent eyes blazed with laughter.
Pocketing his phone so that he had both hands free to curve around her buttocks, he pulled her close and kissed her. ‘It was amazing.’
