Page 58 of A Colourful Country Escape
‘What will you say, O wise one?’ She took Ben’s hand and he squeezed it, oddly supportive of her little quirks.
She scanned the paper quickly, drew in a breath, and then read the words out loud.
‘Worry not, sweet girl. You are rich beyond wealth, and wise beyond learning. Follow your instincts; dance from your heart. Open your petals to the sun, for you are the summer.’
Her eyes widened as she let the words settle. ‘He knows me,’ she whispered through the dark to Ben. ‘Zoltar really knows me. Look, he knows I’m female, that my name is Summers. He knows … everything.’ She held the paper to her chest and swayed to an imaginary beat, wondering what she would do if she was brave enough to open her petals to the sun. But she was sure she already knew.
She turned her eyes on Ben. He was leaning casually against a shelf, his usually neat hair ruffled from the walk. He didn’t normally do casual. Which was just as well because it was outrageously attractive. As was the small smile on his face, which seemed to say ‘you’re nutty but I like it.’
God, they should get out of this dimly lit corner before she got too many strange petal-opening ideas. She shook herself down.
‘Er, your turn. Zoltar insists!’
They looked at the plastic genie, who in fairness did seem to be nodding. Alternatively his head was just wonky after Lexie had given his glass such a shaking.
‘I can’t wait to hear what he thinks I should do with my petals,’ said Ben, mock-sagely. His voice seemed to have taken on an after-midnight huskiness that was doing nothing for Lexie’s willpower.
Lexie dug her hand into her leather jacket and pulled out some coins. Ben humoured her, followed her blow-it-for-luck ritual, and sacrificed it to the gods of fortune.
The mighty one trembled and undulated with such vigour Lexie was sure he was about to deliver triplets. Finally, Ben’s future tumbled down the birthing canal and landed in her eager grip. She kissed it and locked her hands with Ben’s, his message from the wise one incubating like a tiny egg in the warmth between them.
‘I can’t look,’ he said, their faces only inches apart. ‘What if the mighty Zoltar knows too much?’
She tried not to giggle, but she really was intoxicated. ‘You’re not taking this seriously.’
‘Oh, but I am.’ There was a definite teasing note in his voice. ‘I agree to do whatever the mighty one tells me.’
‘Anything?’
He had a quick look around, as though securing their territory. ‘Anything.’
His voice was so low she had to study the shape of his lips to hear it. It was just one word, but suddenly it was the most tempting one ever. His tone was light and yet the word so full of potential, the anticipation of it fizzing between them. Lexie couldn’t help being swept along by the thrill of being there with Ben in that rare, unguarded moment.
As he gave her hand a final squeeze, a wave of goosebumps shivered over her as though every part of her skin was willing him back. But it was time to find out whatanythingmeant. He unclasped their hands and read out the words.
‘You crave money, but without love you will never be rich. Give in to your deeper desires. Taste the exotic fruit. If only for one night …’
They stared at the paper, both aware that as soon as they moved their eyes, anything could happen. And anything probably would. The words were frivolous, but it felt as though they were meant for them. Like it really was a sign.
‘Is a kiwi exotic?’ Lexie whispered, her eyes daring to move up to meet his. She could almost hear a crackle of electricity dancing between them.
‘Mm hmm,’ he responded, as though barely trusting himself to speak.
‘And do you … desire one?’ Something was pulling her in towards him, their limbs now touching and beginning to entwine.
His next word sounded like a groan, deep and feral against the flesh of her neck, and so sexily defenceless. She could feel his body weakening against hers. She pressed into him, wriggling off her jacket as she moved. There was no room for gratuitous material; she wanted to feel everything.
‘Then what the hell,’ she growled into his ear. ‘It’s only for one night.’
And with that, she pushed his firm but willing body against the cold glass of the fortune-teller’s box and melted against him, her lips finding his in a desperate flurry. They were warm and inviting, and moved against hers with a rhythm that was almost hypnotic. She felt her whole body slipping into the flow. The machine behind him continued to undulate, sending endless vibrations through them.
‘Oh God, just touch me,’ she moaned into his mouth, frustrated by the politeness of his hands against her back. ‘Anywhere.’
And at last he did. She felt the heat of his hands slide across her body, one finding her buttocks and pushing them deliciously into him, the other moving slowly towards her breast. She grabbed hold of it and encouraged it on its way. If they only had tonight, she did not want to waste a second.
Every part of her body seemed to be pulsating now, as though six weeks of frustration was writhing its way out of her. Six weeks of secretly wanting this. The deep woody smell of his aftershave rubbing onto her skin, the rough sensation of his hair gripped tightly in her palm, the warmth of his solid frame against hers. It was a full-blown orgy of the senses.
And yet, was it enough?
