Page 68 of The Forbidden Fling

“What?”

“You’re different here. More fun. Less uptight.”

“Excuse me?”

Molly shrugged. “I’m just saying. The island life looks pretty good on you, too, Mum.”

Unsure how to respond, she just smiled, and they relaxed into watching the surfers. A weight in Diana’s chest lifted. Sitting on the sand like this, she couldn’t help but think Charlotte would be proud.

But what would she think of Faye?

As the swirling blue waves morphed into those enchanting irises once more, she hoped the monster from her imagination would stay just that. But as they sat under the sunshine, conversation flowing freely, she knew there was an unsuspecting tsunami lurking that was powerful enough to sweep it all away.

Chapter Twenty

Diana

Diana tapped her pen against the blank page. The emptiness stared back at her. She willed her hand to move, to connect her brain to the paper, but the longer she stared, the less convinced she was anything was going to happen.

Tap-tap. Tap-tap. She needed to start somewhere. With only one week of the course remaining, she could hardly put it off any longer. Tap-tap. Tap-tap.

With a sigh, she wrote. Mother.

Then she crossed the word out. Too cold. Too formal. Dr Marcos said she needed to write from the heart. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What was it with these people and their obsession with the major organ?

She pressed the pen to her chin, her gaze drifting to the dresser. Her heart skipped, remembering a needy, naked Faye spread atop it just a few nights ago. She’d gripped the top of her soft thighs, while Diana’s tongue and lips drew out the most delectable moans Diana had ever heard. Faye had barely been able to recover before she’d craved her again, bending the woman over the dresser this time and fucking her within an inch of her life, not satisfied until Faye had tightened around her fingers, her name falling from her lips with a strangled cry.

They’d nearly broken the mirror that night, managing to catch it just before it shattered across the floor. She could have covered the expense comfortably—explaining why Faye was peppered with glass shards in places clothes normally covered wouldn’t have come quite so easily.

She should be more careful. But as the days passed and the hunger in her chest only intensified, Diana had become a little reckless. Any resemblance to ‘taking it slow’ had receded so far, she wasn’t sure if it had ever existed. As soon as the two were alone, the feeling was insatiable. Nothing felt as good as making this woman fall apart. Whatever construct she’d created to keep her level, to keep her control, was so close to slipping… Once it was gone, Diana wasn’t sure what she’d do.

She should’ve known better than to play with fire. She should’ve, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. But maybe that would change when their time came to an end, and they parted ways. Never kissing her again? Never tasting her, quivering and sensitive and all Diana’s?

Because in one week, she would have to say goodbye. In one week, it would all be over.

She removed the pen from her mouth, realising she was biting it. Focus. Write the letter.

“Okay.” She breathed. “Just start.”

Charlotte, she wrote, then after a beat, crossed that out too. She never called her that. Why would she start now?

So with a sad sigh, she wrote, Mum.

Something about the choice felt juvenile, but she was only a child when she died. Getting hung up on semantics was only delaying her further, but if Diana was going to write a letter to her mother, she also wanted it to be perfect. “Mum” was the chosen starting point, but looking at the stained paper, she crumpled it with a huff and tossed it in the bin by her feet. She’d have to start again.

She blamed her new addiction for the distraction, but really, she’d sat here all week facing the same problem she’d faced recently in her academic life. She didn’t know what to write.

A chipper knock at the door flushed all those feelings away, and she rose, fluffing her hair in the mirror before answering it.

“Hey.” Faye stepped inside, all energy and warmth, wearing her green University of Manchester T-shirt, her long hair twisted up messily. “You’re not gonna believe this.” She set her rucksack by the door and kicked off her shoes, mouth moving a mile a minute. “I just got back from the reserve, and little Pinkie is doing so well, they’re planning to release her back into the wild in a few weeks.”

Diana smiled at the affectionate nickname she’d given the parakeet. “That’s wonderful news.”

“It is.” Then her expression sobered. “Still no update on the poaching, though. Riley says they can’t go around accusing people, but I mean, why not? If people have nothing to hide, they shouldn’t mind.” Her attention fell to Diana’s purple robe. “Whoa…You look incredible.”

Diana squashed the smile threatening to rise. “I’m only wearing my shower robe.”

“Exactly.”