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He drew his hand from the desk to run his fingers up her bare leg, right beneath her pleats where his thumb met one of the two tight tendons either side of her underwear.
Her hips rolled into his touch, their unanimous lurch helping push his thumb beneath the hem right onto her opening, already damp.
In his touch, the shiver of Áine’s breath settled; transformed into desire without fear or hesitation. She pulled from Fionn, tolook at him with slitting eyes as she put to order what was the greatest command of his life, “Come to bed with me . . . please.” A desperation lingered at the end that strained her voice.
It was palpable; the tension, the silence, the exposure, all of it. And so, his response could only be one thing:
“Absolutely.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dublin 2016
Áine
A new reason for Áine’s yearning to become settled within her usually relished silence wasn’t like that of the previous. For the anterior giving of peace, it had now mutated. Infected her with a brewing tension she wanted to take host.
Being fuelled by Fionn’s complicit touch as she led him up the three flights of carpeted stairs to her room had made her nervous, stemming from the tension-filled silence that might only be pierced by the noises he’d bring out of her when she quietly told him all the nefarious places she wished to be touched, and he’d oblige.
All she could think about were his big hands and how much of her they could explore. What details would they learn from the terrain of her body? And what could she give him in return.
The carpet had quietened their slow steps to amplify their increasing breaths off damp walls, subjecting them to an undercurrent of unanimous desire that made Áine want to lay down on a step, so all the wanting and torment and craving would finally be satiated.
Everything had become heightened the instant her invitation dripped from her mouth. Everything about this would break her heart tomorrow when he was gone.
Crossing the threshold of intimacy meant erasing this from her mind, like she’d done with their memories before, would be difficult. At this point, she wasn’t sure she even wanted that anymore.
Reaching the end of the hall, Áine veered him left to a door with aStaffplaque hammered on beneath a keyhole. She loosened her grip on his hand to dish for the key in her pocket with a tiny shell keyring attached.
Fionn deepened his grip around her waist as she shoved the key into the hole on second attempt. He was dominant despite waiting patiently, his fingers clenching her side.
They stepped into the square room, Áine sliding off her pumps by the doormat; a ritual of respect. To contradict, she aimlessly tossed her keys onto the little counter space in her kitchenette.
“This is nice,” he said, surely just to say something.
She exhaled some laughing relief that it was him who spoke first. It took some of the pressure off that she didn’t actually enjoy the feeling of on reflection.
“I’ve never had anyone in here since, well, now,” Áine told him, only realising it herself. It had always been her venturing out into the personal space of others to create a layer of separation. And because of the venturing, she’d never appreciated her double bed until now too; a big four-postered one. The kind that had the potential to make the filthiest sex look somewhat beautiful to the audience she sometimes pictured when in the act.
Paddy had only given her the bed when it didn’t fit into any of the other guest bedrooms.
“I’m glad I’m the exception,” Fionn teased as they separated, him to the bed and her to the kettle.
“You’ll have tea, won’t ya’?” she asked, surprised that all her sinful plans had been ones she suddenly chose to ignorefor the sake of being polite. For the sake of the improbable circumstance in which her parents found out she’d the audacity to fuck someone before offering them a cup of tea. It was all stemming from that mantra she’d already run through once tonight;
Don’t be dramatic. Don’t be rude. Eat your carrots and you’ll see better. Life is hard. Get over it.
Her fingers cradled the limescale kettle’s handle as she ruminated. It was the last of her short list taking precedence; life actually wasn’t hard at present. It was the opposite, and the choice to be this way was so simple she thought she might melt onto the floor for her newfound peace. So maybe it was also time to shed the ingrained mantra.
Fionn had settled onto the bed’s edge, too preoccupied with his desire to test the sturdiness of the nearest poster.
“Fionn,” she called again.
He looked up at her, his hand still clenched around the post in the room’s poor lighting in a way that made her change her mind about offering the tea altogether.
“I’m grand for tea.” He nodded to the kettle in her hand. “You’ve no TV,” he also noted.
She relaxed her elbows on the worktop, cupping the back of her neck where a knot achingly thrived. “I use my laptop to watch things, and I’ve heaps of books on my TBR. As in I think they’ll need a synagogue for my coffin because the only way I’ll get to finish all of them is when I’m dead. And the window there behind you is overlooking a popular Chinese takeaway”—she nodded its way—“so I get all my Saturday night entertainment by staring out at the drunk students looking for a fuck or a fight.”
