Page 80 of Midnight Enemy

She trails a finger through my chest hairs. “Do you see her much?”

“No. She moved to Dunedin.”

“Do you miss her?”

“No. Not now.”

She scowls. “I don’t like thinking about you with other women.”

“There are no other women, Scarlett. Every girl pales into insignificance next to you.”

She looks a little mollified—she likes that. I kiss her hair, and she smiles.

“Can I have another chocolate?” she asks.

“Of course.” I retrieve the box for her.

“I don’t know why I’m hungry,” she says, choosing one.

I pick a chocolate-covered cherry and hold it for a moment. “Don’t worry, it’s the sex. I could eat a whole box of fried chicken.”

“That’s terrible for your arteries.”

“I’ll get a side of kale for you.”

“Jeez, what is it with you and kale? That’s not all I eat.”

I chuckle and pop the truffle into my mouth. It’s left a circle of chocolate on my thumb and forefinger. I lower a hand to her breast and tease the end of her nipple, smearing it with chocolate.

“Hey,” she says, but before she can protest further, I push her onto her back, cover the nipple with my mouth, and suck the chocolate off.

“Ooh.” She tries to push me away, and then her fingers curl and clutch at my shoulders as she moans.

After making sure I’ve removed all the chocolate, I lift my head and kiss her, delving my tongue into her mouth. She tastes sweet, and I feel myself stir again, even though I’m pleasantly sated.

“Mmm.” She presses her lips together, her eyes flaring. “Naughty boy.”

“I haven’t been called a boy for about fifteen years.”

“Then I’m definitely going to call you that.” She rolls over. “Back in a sec.” She removes the cloth from between her legs, hesitates, then says, “thank you for this.”

“I hope you’re not too sore.”

“I’m okay.” Giving me a shy smile, she goes into the bathroom.

I lean back on the pillows, stretching out, and yawn. Then I look up at the ceiling. Will she want to stay the night? Maybe her sister will worry if she doesn’t go back this evening. I wonder whether the Elders are keeping tabs on her, too.

That makes me think of my father. He knows I’m out with Scarlett this evening. Frowning, I reach for my phone on the bedside table and touch the screen. Sure enough, there’s a message from him.Hope you’re being sensible.

I toss the phone onto the table crossly. Fucking hell. Sometimes I hate my father.

Scarlett comes out of the bathroom and gets back on the mattress. She pulls the duvet up to her waist, rolls onto her front, tugs a pillow down, and rests her head on it. “Tell me about your school and what it was like growing up for you.”

Surprised, because no girl has ever asked me that before, I stretch out beside her and offer her the chocolates again, me stretched out on my side, head propped on a hand, her on her stomach, hugging the pillow.

I tell her about going to boarding school. How I hated the first few weeks. I refused to cry like some of the boys in the dorm, but I lay awake for hours, eyes burning, hating my parents for sending me away when my sister was still at home in her bed. Then I describe how I met Kingi. We were in different classes but were brought together for a rugby match. At the time we were the same height and build and we played inside and outside center. We were both sprinters, and for some reason, even at that age, we were able to read each other, and we made enough good passes that we were chosen for the rugby team that year. Like me, he also excelled at mathematics, which meant we were put in the top class together, and I quickly grew to like the kind, funny, matter-of-fact Maori boy. We formed a firm friendship, decided to both take finance at the University of Auckland, and ended up going into business.

“His sporting career far surpassed mine,” I say. “He was so fast—he could easily have been an Olympic sprinter. But his first love was hiking, and he still loves taking off into the bush with a backpack and disappearing for days. He likes rock climbing, white-water rafting, spelunking, anything where he can grow a scruffy beard and not have to wash for days.”

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