Page 62 of The Side Road
‘I know. I fucking know.’ He could feel her clench as she came, and he covered her neck and face with kisses.
Her body sighed with satisfaction. Then she shuddered, her breath catching in her throat. Looking at her, he noticed her eyes were glassy. Tears, he wondered?
‘Relief,’ she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
‘That was quick,’ he whispered.
‘I’ve been on edge all morning,’ she said. ‘The anticipation.’
He understood. But he was going to take his time. She closed her eyes and pressed her body against his. The rhythm was slow at first, but the momentum built. After fucking her against the wall, he moved to the opposite side of the hall. She dropped her head back while he fucked her against the hall table, her bottom resting on the edge. It was the sight of her long neck and breasts, the shape of her naked torso, that spurred his orgasm. A rush of emotion and ecstasy. Nothing compared. There was no other feeling in the world like this. It was only then that he closed his eyes.
Moments later, when he opened them, she was curled into his chest, her arms once again around him, and the side of her face pressed against his shoulder.
‘You are a surprise,’ he said.
‘Are you a man who likes surprises?’
He chuckled. ‘Yes, I like them a lot.’
‘We didn’t even make it to the kitchen.’
He tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘Are you okay?’
She nodded.
After collecting her dress from the floor, he handed it to her.
She hugged the garment to her chest. ‘You know where the bathroom is. I’ll see you in there…in the kitchen, I mean, not the bathroom.’
He ran his fingers through her hair. Standing naked in the hallway, wearing only her fluffy socks and clutching her clothes, he had never seen a woman look more attractive or more vulnerable. He didn’t want to get dressed or meet her in the kitchen. Taking her to bed and lying with his arms around her sounded like a much better idea. But her comfort was his only concern. He would do as she asked.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
After nodding, she retreated, walking backwards so he wouldn’t see her naked bottom, which he thought was sweet but absurd – his eyes had been all over her.
In the bathroom, he dressed and sorted himself out, adjusting his boxer shorts and jeans. When he stepped into the kitchen, he was welcomed with familiar scents: homely cooking smells and coffee.
Sitting down on the window seat to wait, he patted the dog for a few minutes. When Snood pawed his leg and drooled, Oliver said. ‘It’s only eleven, you can’t be hungry.’
Oliver’s stillness didn’t last. Restless, he stood up and roamed around the small kitchen and sitting room. Collecting an Australian art book from the table, he drew it closer and flicked through the pages – colonial paintings of lonely men and women in the bush. Draft versions of her patterns lay scattered over the table. She used graph paper and knitting symbols to represent the stitches and knots. For a while, he studied the patterns. Then he wandered around the kitchen. Opening the pantry, he was impressed by the size of her spice rack. Noticing a loose lid on a bottle of olive oil, he tightened it.
When she still didn’t arrive, he caught Snood’s eye. ‘Ah,’ he said.
Now dressed in her underwear,Mia stared out her bedroom window. The two of them were now bound by the closest of bonds. It was joy and pleasure, but there was also fear; if she wanted to escape, it would be difficult, but not impossible. She had a plan. A step-by-step strategy to ease her way into whatever this was. Reckless, impassioned sex in the hallway, she could manage.
Oliver entered. He crossed the room and stood behind her. She took hold of his arm and wrapped it around her shoulder. Needing no more encouragement, he kissed the side of her face. ‘I want you to know, I didn’t plan for that to happen.’
‘It was inevitable,’ she said and pointed to the concrete birdbath in the garden. ‘Rosellas. That one’s scratching its head with its foot.’
They had a rectangular view of the garden changing seasons. The low-maintenance banksias were in bloom. Golden wattle and kangaroo paw were about to flower. Two brightly coloured rosellas took turns bathing in the birdbath. One was more active, dancing around the edge.
‘That’s the male. He’s trying to impress her,’ Oliver said.
‘I’m impressed. That manoeuvre can’t be easy.’ She tilted her head to one side, watching the bird. Then, with a grave expression, she turned and looked into his eyes. ‘Would you like some toast?’
20
PATTERNS
