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I thought he would give her the world.
I was wrong.
Now here we are. Her head is resting on my shoulder as we look out over the dark waters of the loch. The air is still and heavy with the earthy smell of the woods behind us. Tiny waves lap gently at the shore. The fire crackles.
Her fingers are entwined in mine. The taste of her kiss lingers in my mouth. The feeling of her curves is imprinted on my palms, the way she breathed my name as I entered her echoes in my ears. And the look she gave me when she opened her eyes, blinking herself slowly back to the present after she came, is engraved on my heart.
I will never, I could never, love another woman the way I love Victoria Canmore.
“Corrraaan!”
Never has the drawn out, drunken slur of my name been such an unwelcome sound.
Victoria and I spring apart, scooting to opposite ends of the log as though scorched by a stray spark from the fire.
Our friends emerge onto the beach. Adam brandishes a paper bag tinkling with the glassy promise of whisky, his tipple of choice. Cameron is bearing two cases of beer and a speaker. Ben follows, another case of beer tucked under his arm and his hand gripping that of Sasha Harkins. Two other girls that I vaguely remember from school, Jess and Rachel, I think, trail behind, giggling as Jess tries to eat crisps from the open packet at the top of the bag in her arms without spilling the entire contents of the bag on the ground.
They whoop as they catch sight of us.
“Corran! Victoria! Let’s get this party started!” roars Adam.
I roll my eyes. Clearly the party has already started.
* * *
“Drink, drink, drink, drink, drink!”
The raucous laughter of our drunken friends echoes out into the night as they urge Cameron to down another shot of Sambuca. They hoot as he gulps down the liquid, retching as the sweet liquid hits his alcohol-soaked stomach. Cameron doesn’t like Sambuca. I have no idea why he drinks it.
I roll my eyes as I turn the sausages in the fire. Hopefully this will sober them all up a bit.
The brush of Victoria’s hand against mine sends a thrill of electricity up my arm.
“Ever the sensible one,” she whispers in my ear. She squeezes my hand, then returns her own primly to her knee.
“The boring one,” I correct. “The fun police.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she says slowly with a sly grin. She bites her lip and I have to focus hard on the fire to stop the roar of desire rumbling through my chest.
“We could always bunk off. Everyone knows I always have to leave early…”
I shift on the log, turning to look at her. My knee brushes hers as I move. She looks at me, eyes twinkling in the firelight.
She doesn’t have to ask me twice.
“Once these are cooked, I’m all yours.”
She reaches out to touch me but flinches back. I look up to see Ben marching across the sand. Victoria wraps the blanket more tightly round her shoulders, shrinking against the log.
“Victoria, uh…can I talk to you?” he mutters, head down, stabbing his toes into the sand. The fucker isn’t even able to look her in the eye.
I say nothing. I have no place in this. I have to let them work out whatever remains between them. The beast in my chest growls in displeasure. It will have to settle for watching from afar.
They walk off onto the pier, heading out into the darkness. I watch the discussion unfold, their figures silhouetted by the moonlight like a torturous shadow puppet show.
Ben widens his hands, entreating something that Victoria is clearly unwilling to give. She shakes her head, folding her arms across her body. Ben takes a step towards her. Victoria retreats, turning away from him.
Ben steps forward again, this time placing his hand on Victoria’s shoulder. She shakes him off angrily. He tries again. As his hand touches her, rage rolls down my spine. I need to stop watching. I fix my eyes on the fire.
