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Back The Lucky Escape Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR LAURA JANE WILLIAMS
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. Epilogue
  51. Acknowledgements
  52. Publishing Credits
  53. Keep Reading …
  54. About the Author
  55. Fiction by the same author
  56. About the Publisher

There was a tenderness to the way he kissed me. We were vulnerable – like we’d agreed, through the way we were touching, to be sensitive with each other because we both knew that was what the other needed. And as his fingers dug in to where he held the tops of my thighs, creeping towards my bum in a cradle, I could feel him losing himself, surrendering to me; it made it safe to surrender to him, too.

I trust him, I thought to myself, and then I stopped thinking at all.

26

We lay on the sofa in the dark. It must have been way past midnight – I honestly had no idea. His body pressed up against mine and we drifted from kissing to talking in hushed whispers, the hushed whispers giving way to more kissing.

‘Is this weird?’ I asked, because I couldn’t help it. ‘Do you feel weird about this happening?’

He shook his head, and he was so close to me that it forced his nose to knock against mine in an Eskimo kiss.

‘It’s the opposite of weird,’ he told me. ‘It’s weird how not weird it is. I’ve wanted you. I’ve been consumed with guilt about it, and I tried not to, but I have done since the day I helped you put your jumper on.’

His fingertips gently tickled my thigh so that they disappeared up my shorts and back again. I moaned, lightly, a signal that he made me feel good.

‘You understand how much I want you, don’t you?’ he asked. ‘Taking it slow, it’s not …’

He didn’t finish the sentence.

‘There’s no formula we have to follow,’ I replied softly. ‘Sex is overrated anyway.’

He pulled away and tipped his head. ‘Bullshit,’ he roared.

‘Yeah,’ I replied, laughing too. ‘Come on, get off me. It’s bedtime, and I need a cold shower. And …’ I pointedly looked down at his crotch, illuminated by the moonlight. ‘… I think you do too.’

He grinned, totally unashamed at the tent he appeared to be pitching in his trousers.

‘I’m just a man,’ he said, rolling off me. ‘I told you I’m putty in your hands.’

‘Goodnight, Patrick Hummingbird.’

From the sofa he watched me go and replied, ‘Goodnight, Annie Wiig.’

I turned back and flashed a smile at him. Alone in my room I replayed exactly what had just happened. How hard my heart had beat before I said I was going to kiss him, where the tips of his fingers had caressed as he’d kissed my mouth, my neck, my chest, how giving in to what I’d been feeling was a victory and surrender, all at once. I drifted to sleep committing every detail of it to memory.

27