‘Oh, God, Nic... Nic!’ It was half a sob, half a sigh, and then she was kissing him back, kissing him with a fervour, an urgency that was like a flame lit within her, a flame that was becoming a fire—hot, unstoppable, consuming everything, consuming all the world.
Everything ceased to exist. There was only this, only Nic, only his mouth on hers, his hands on her, and hers crushing him to her, his stance shifting so that she was cradled against his hard, lean hips. He wanted her. He wanted her with all the urgency with which she wanted him.
Hunger leapt in her. Her mind was a daze, a jumble of naked, desperate desire.
Nic—only Nic! Nic, who was sweeping her up into his arms as if she weighed as much as a feather, who was striding with her to another room, lowering her down upon a bed, coming down beside her. His mouth fusing with hers again.
Words came from him as he drew breath, but he did not know what. Knew only that he could not draw back. That all he wanted was here, now. With her. With Fran. Clothes were in the way—impossible, unnecessary. Must be cast aside somehow, anyhow.
Urgency filled him, drove him onwards. Somewhere in the last recesses of his sanity he knew that this was mad, insane. That this was the last thing he should be doing. But rational thought was gone, burned away completely as he found her naked body waiting for him, her eyes wide, pupils dilated, gaze blind with passion and desire.
A passion and desire that was blinding him too...
He could not resist her, and nor did he want to. He wanted only to sink himself within her, to have her body opening to his, claiming him, taking him in.
And with a cry of triumph she was his possession and he was hers. She cried out too, her legs wrapping herself around him so he could not escape.
Not until the great tide sweeping up in him—overpowering, unstoppable, gaining power as it swept, taking him over—broke in a shuddering, low-throated roar that went on and on.
He could hear the echo in her voice crying out, felt her whole body clenching around him, convulsing with cry after cry, endless and infinite, it seemed, until, after an eternity he felt his body start to slacken, and hers, the tide ebbing from him, from her, her limbs falling exhausted to the sheets, his shoulders lowering, meeting hers, folding her into him so that the frantic pounding of their hearts was pressed, one to the other, their sweating bodies fused together, collapsing into each other, breaths ragged, exhausted.
He said her name. Slurred, inchoate. Then wrapped her to him, feeling a sweeping lassitude taking him over, impossible to halt. Impossible to do anything other than say her name again and let his eyes fall shut, let sleep—post-coital, exhausted—consume him.
With Fran in his arms. The only place he wanted her...
* * *
Fran stirred. Her limbs were heavy. She moved them slowly across the fine cotton sheets. Seeking... Seeking Nic’s warm, embracing body.
But he wasn’t there.
Her eyes sprang open, blind for a second, then they adapted. Letting her see the bright outline of the doorway and Nic framed within it. He was wearing a white towelling robe and was quite motionless. Then he spoke.
‘You need to go,’ he said. He reached out with his hand, flicked a switch on the wall so that twin bedside lights came on. ‘You need to go,’ he said again.
She stared. There was something wrong with his face. It was as if it was carved in stone. Hands plunged into the pockets of the towelling robe, he stood four-square—immobile. She saw him take a breath, steel himself visibly.
‘What just happened should not have,’ he said. ‘It was...’ he breathed out ‘...a mistake.’
She could feel her heart start to beat faster within her body, with heavy slugs. It was all she could feel. Nothing else...nothing at all. There seemed to be a wall inside her, somewhere around her skull. Keeping her together. It was all that was keeping her together.
He took another breath. ‘I’ll leave you to dress. A car will take you wherever you need to go.’
He turned away. In her head, a cry came—his name, just his name. But she did not give it voice. Could not. Would not. She would do nothing except ease her body from the bed, find her underwear, scattered somewhere, her dress, and even her necklace, on the side table...
Somehow she dressed. Somehow she pinned up her hair, which had tumbled wantonly over her shoulders. Her hands were shaking, and still there was the same wall around her mind. Still the hideous thumping of her heartbeat. Marching her forward, into the sitting room.
Nic turned, his eyes on her. Eyes that were blank. He bent to pick up her fallen evening bag, handed it to her wordlessly. His face was set, a nerve ticking at his jaw.
She took the bag, not letting her fingers touch his, slithered her sapphire necklace into it. Murmured a low ‘thank you’, not meeting his eyes. She walked towards the door and he opened it for her. Only there did she turn her head briefly, so briefly. Her throat was as tight as if barbed wire were around it.
‘Goodbye, Nic.’ There was no emotion in her voice. She would not permit it. ‘I won’t trouble you again. You have my word.’
Then she turned away, crossed to the elevator, its doors standing open, stepped inside. The doors closed, and Nic was gone from sight.
Gone from her life.
Finally gone.