Page 70 of Being Lost

Moving stiffly, worried about being a voyeur, I make my way as nonchalantly as I can over to the stairs, resisting the urge to run up them once I get there. I suspect if anyone wanted to describe me at that moment, I’d have looked like a dog running away with its tail between its legs.

Reaching my room, I see by the clock radio next to the bed that it’s only half past nine. Far too early to go to bed. Wishing I’d had the foresight to bring a glass of wine—or a bottle—up with me, I decide to watch television, only to find the remote doesn’t work, and I’m not venturing downstairs in search of new batteries.

Instead, I decide to read.

Damn, this book is hot. I find myself lost in a world eerily similar to the one I’m in, but different as well. Wow, that biker. Oh, is he going to…? My fingers flick the page, my whole concentration on the words forming images in my brain as I find, yes, he really is.

Rap Rappity rap.

I almost squeal as I’m interrupted at the good part. I glare at the door, wondering who it is. Dan is more of a knock-knock man, and a ‘Mom, are you decent in there?’.

Remembering the free-living style these bikers have, I decide to open the door with care. As I do, I’m surprised to see Lost standing there. His smirk and opening words show me he’s interpreted the reason I’m hanging onto the door.

I’m fifty-three, not over the hill, and when I take the time I think I scrub up pretty well. I thought I knew Lost was attracted to me, but perhaps I was wrong. He takes the winds completely out of my sails when he tells me I wouldn’t be mistaken for a club girl. Not that I’d ever want to be, but hey, it’s not nice to have it pointed out that you’re not attractive anymore.

“Of course, they’re not,” I agree, scorn showing on my face. No, none of his men would look twice at me.

I wonder what I should do, find out what he wants in case he’s brought news, or shut the door and go back to my fictional hero who knows exactly the right thing to say. It only takes an instant for those considerations to cross my mind, as equally quickly, Lost’s hand is around the back of my neck, holding me captive.

When he explains how I’d misinterpreted his words, my hopes rise again. This time, it’s me that dashes them, pointing out all the reasons I could never compare with the club girls.

Then, I can barely get breath into my lungs as Lost starts to spout all those dirty words. Words that painted a picture of things I could expect if I could only be brave enough to say yes.

A kiss? His lips on mine again, I’d like that for sure.

His mouth?There?What would that be like?

His fingers? Touching me there. Oh God, yes.

It’s all too much. I feel myself growing wetter with every word. I get scared and do what I immediately know I’ll never forgive myself for. I mention his wife.

But even that doesn’t deter him. I make my protests,surely I shouldn’t want this?For a moment I think I’ve fallen asleep and have mistaken my dreams for real. Then he pushes past me anddamn it, he picks up my e-reader, the inked text on the fake page open at the section he’d interrupted me at.That section.The one I was reading that had already made me hot and bothered, primed to hear the exact offers he’d just made.

“Lost. You give me that now.”

“I was just getting into it. Maybe getting myself some ideas.” He touches his beard.

Oh no. That’s the part I just read.Like the girl in the book, I wasn’t particularly enamoured of whiskers on a man’s chin, but what would it feel like if it were Lost’s face, there, in between my thighs?

Utterly mortified he’s found my secret pleasure, I want the ground to open up and swallow me. Unable to physically wrest my e-reader from him, I take my best mom stance and resort to using his full name, just as I would admonish Dan or Beth.

This time it works, he hands me the device, but instead of letting go, his large hands cover mine as I reach to take it.

“Patsy.” He breathes the word in that sexy tone. “Why don’t you take that leap? You can trust me. You dictate how far we’ll go.”

The warmth from his calloused skin is playing havoc with my emotions. Tingles shoot to my core.

As if he knows, he presses his advantage. “Come to my room, Patsy.” His voice is deep, almost commanding.

“Why don’t we stay here?” This room isn’t particularly inviting, but it’s my temporary home. Something I can control.

He looks around with disdain. “Whether this will end up with you in my bed Patsy, I’m going to at least take my time with your lips on mine. Want to be in more comfortable surroundings.”

I can’t argue with that. I bite my lip, noticing he shifts from one foot to the other as I do so. I glance up at him through my eyelashes, noticing his expression. If he was still cockily smirking, if he looked sure of himself,of me, I may have said no. But he looks uncertain, as if maybe he’s pressed too hard and rather than reeling me in, has pushed me away.

Maybe it is time. Maybe I should step back from the responsible middle-aged woman I usually am. Whether there’s any future or not, maybe I should just let go and take something for me for once. If Lost can back up even half of what he’s said, I’m in for a very enjoyable time.

I take a breath and leap. “Have you got wine?”

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