I’m not looking to actually date. You know this. Aurora is my focus.
PRESLEY:
Plenty of single mums date, babe. Plenty of people in your…situation go on to have normal things inlife. And, baby I love you, but I can’t help you with the orgasms, I like dick too much.
I snort at Presley’s last message.
“Mmm, you gotta appreciate a man who likes to get down and dirty,” Lydia says. I clutch my phone to my chest, then follow her eyes to where they’re fixed on Westley.
His muscles flex and tense with every step. I’m definitely appreciating the view. The moment sours when I realise this woman is openly ogling my man, then telling me about it. Well, not my man, but she doesn’t know that.
“Yes, I do.” Staking my claim, I look past her to where her husband stands at the last platform. Even in the middle of the bush, he looks like he’s ready to run a meeting about stock, or finances, or something equally as boring.
“How did you meet Aurora’s dad?”
My daughter’s advice comes back to me, to seize the opportunity when it strikes to clear up the mess I got myself in. I take a deep breath before I turn to look Lydia in the eyes. “Aurora’s never met her birth father. Westley’s all we need.”
Lydia’s head tilts in curiosity.
“Maevyn?” Westley’s deep voice calls from across the way, and my heart jumps to my throat. “You coming? We gotta keep moving.”
“Lovely chatting, Lydia.” I take the out I’m given. I did my job. I told her Aurora’s real dad isn’t in the picture. With a toothy smile at her confused face, I move my hook to the next rope and grip the line above my head.
The board wobbles as I move on to the first step, and my fingers tighten, nails digging into the palm of my hand. For some reason, I look down, and I freeze in place.
“Ah, Maevyn?” Lydia’s voice sounds as though she’s speaking underwater. “The next group of kids is starting to cross. You need to keep moving.”
My foot slides across the step, but the second it feels as though my body is ready to follow, I pull it back, closing my eyes tight. Air heaves through my lungs, and I feel hot all over, until a rough, steady palm coasts along my lower back, resting on my hip. The smell of apple and sage fills my nose.
“What’s going on?” Westley asks.
“I’m afraid of heights,” I pant.
“But you’ve made it this far, and you seemed fine.” He sounds confused, but it doesn’t stop his hand from slipping under my shirt, his thumb running back and forth over the bare skin of my lower back and soothing the anxiety.
“They were lower. And not… so… flimsy.”
He chuckles. “You’re perfectly safe.”
“I know that,” I snap. I don’t mean to, but fuck, someone get me the fuck down from here. “Sorry.”
“Okay,” he murmurs, steady and patient, as his hand wraps around mine where I’m still gripping the ropes. He detaches my iron grip and settles it behind his neck. I don’t know for sure, because my eyes are still clamped shut, but I can feel the ends of his hair tickle my wrist and where my finger just grazes the stubble under his chin. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Can you look at me?”
“That would require me opening my eyes.”
“Is everything alright?” Lydia shouts.
“Oh, yeah!” Westley responds. “She just struggles when she doesn’t have her hands on me.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “You dick.”
“Whatever visualisation helps you.”
I laugh again through a choppy breath as I feel Westley step back, pulling me along with him. My hand tightens around his neck.
“Just focus on the sound of my voice. The feel of my hands on you. I won’t let go.” His fingers grip around my waist, tight and strong.
One foot in front of the other, I let Westley lead me across this death trap they’re calling abridge. I focus on his hand on my hip, and I can’t remember the last time a man before Westley touched my skin, but I’m certain it didn’t feel like this.
