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Her face reddened. “I can’t believe we did this here.” She laughed. “What have you done to me? I’m Audrey Bates, serious corporate woman, responsible single mother, celibate by lifestyle choice, boring vegetable.”
He lifted her, set her on her feet. “No, you’re not. You’re naked sex on the beach, baby.”
She swatted him as he cleaned up, zipped up. “I don’t know if I should be appalled or congratulated.” She clipped her bra on, her singlet and jacket, moving quickly. “I can’t find my underwear.”
He yanked her to him. He didn’t want to leave, go back to the world. He kissed her, hands over her butt. It would be so easy to lift her again, or turn her, let her brace against the rock fall and take her from behind. He groaned as her kiss told him she’d go for that. He took her hand put it on his butt. She laughed against his lips as she found her pants in his pocket.
Dressed and back on the path, they walked back to the beach. The closer they got the more Audrey tensed. They’d been gone a long time and it’d be longer if he added a coffee run.
She took his hand. “I don’t want them to know.”
“They know. I didn’t say a word, but they know.”
“We’ve had one night and whatever that was—”
He pulled her off the path and into his arms. “That was a hot fucking mess and I can’t wait to do it again.”
“I need to think. I didn’t expect you to be so...” She frowned and started again. “I didn’t expect you to be so...I propositioned you, but you’re overwhelming.”
He watched her carefully. Had he been too rough? Now that the adrenaline was gone, had he risked too much? He’d shoot himself in the dick with a nail gun if he saw fear in her.
She squeezed his hand. “This is a big change.”
“Don’t hesitate on my account. I know what I want.” He’d never been clearer.
“How can you know?”
She closed her eyes tight. They’d both forgotten their sunglasses. It was hard to remember she had a more complicated life at stake. That not long ago she’d been sick enough to die.
“I’ve had time. I’ve watched you, feared for you. I know what I want. I want us. I don’t care who else knows about us.”
She put her fingertips to his lips, traced them, stood on her toes and pulled his head down. She kissed him hard, fingers dug into his arm, and that made the need for secrecy easier to take.
“Can we have just this—let this breathe before we need to be anything else?”
He kissed her soft. “Just this.”
It wasn’t a skywriter. It wasn’t a Property of Audrey tattoo, but it was enough for now.
18: Wonder Drug
When she’d been pumped full of drugs in hospital, Audrey’s brain turned to cotton wool. Her thoughts were fuzzy blobs; her emotions were thick and fluffy one minute and torn apart and insubstantial the next. Later the headaches and tingling, the overwhelming relief about her recovery, and bone deep exhaustion drowned her in soft focus days and frighteningly disturbing nights.
Now she felt clear-headed. Better than headache free, better than well slept and properly rested. Every synapse in her brain fired sharp with excitement, every cell in her body was ready to do sand sprints without tiring. She was still too thin, but she looked good, colour in her face, bright eyes, shiny hair and a bounce in her step.
Because of Reece.
He was a new kind of drug, one that made her feel younger and stronger and more capable. She’d never trusted anyone like she trusted Reece. Her parents once, in the way kids had no choice, and theirs was a trust tempered with obedience. You got it when you conformed. She’d had it with Barrett, but it had limitations, and the fact he lived in New York and had no interest in being a father, or intention of returning, was the foundation of it.
She had it with Merrill and Joe, with Les. The trust that came with long friendships proven over good and bad times, but with Reece it was a whole lot more complex and a whole lot more simple at the same time.
He saw everything she was and what she’d forgotten how to be. He saw all the ways she failed and when she feared to try. He saw her stripped down to pure vibrating want, desperate grasping need, calculated caution and naked ambition, and he held out his hand and hoped she’d take it. He offered his heart, as big and careful as the rest of him, for her to do whatever she wanted with, and he trusted her to choose well.
She chose him all the way from his boat size feet to his quiet domestic heroism. She made a cocoon of them, an alternate world for the two of them and Mia to exist in. Which meant days in the company of his ready smile and steady humour, and nights in thrall to his body, and what he could do to hers.
It was a holiday she didn’t want to end. He should’ve moved out, but she couldn’t bring herself to suggest it. He did though, testing, doing what was right for her and Mia.
She stuck her head
