Seven Sexy Sins (27 page)

Gently, he withdrew from her, and she shifted on the sofa, turning onto her side so he could lie next to her, facing her. He met her gaze and gave a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? It was a pretty good shag.”

He laughed and cupped her face with his hand, stroking her cheekbone with his fingers. Then he slid his hand into her hair, brought her head forward and kissed her. The kiss was tender, and it made her sigh softly when he eventually pulled back.

He looked into her eyes again. She could see regret and pain in his gaze. She went to say something, but he pushed himself up and off the sofa, doing up his jeans.

She sat up and drew up her knees, putting her arms around them. “Are you going?” She made her voice casual.

He looked startled. “Come in, screw you blind and then go home? Jeez, Faith, I’m not that heartless.” He paused. “Unless you want me to go?”

She smiled, relieved. “No.” She got up and picked up his T-shirt, pulling it over her head. It came past her bottom, the sleeves almost to her elbows. “Come on, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

They went into the kitchen, and she switched on the kettle and busied herself putting the bags in the mugs. Rusty sat at the table and watched her, thinking how graceful she was, how beautiful, with her hair sex-mussed and her ass just showing beneath his T-shirt. Why was it so sexy when a woman wore a man’s clothes? He leaned an elbow on the table, put his head on his hand, and sighed as she ferreted around for some biscuits, finally finding a box at the back of the cupboard. She placed them on the table, smiling as she saw him watching her.

Finishing the tea, she brought the mugs over to the table and sat opposite. He sipped his tea and watched as she dipped a biscuit into hers and sucked it. “Are you going to talk to me?” she asked.

He looked into his mug. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Why did you come around tonight? Just for sex?” She shrugged as he looked up. “I don’t mind.”

“No.” He dropped his gaze again.

“To say goodbye?”

His hand tightened on the mug and he made himself relax his grip before he broke it. “I…”

“Rusty?” Her voice was gentle. “It’s okay.” She reached out and held his hand.

He brushed her knuckles with his thumb. “I just can’t, you know? Seeing Cole, I couldn’t… I just can’t.”

“It’s okay.” She squeezed his hand. Then she sipped her tea. She seemed calm, composed. How on earth was she so calm? He cleared his throat. “Can we do it now?”

“Huh?”

“The seventh sin. I don’t know that I can wait for the weekend. I need to…”

“Finish it?”

He met her gaze, choking up. “Faith…”

“You don’t have to. I can make it up. It doesn’t matter.”

“No. I signed the damn contract. I promised. I’ll do it.”

She sat back, withdrew her hand and took another biscuit. “If we do, you do as I say. Follow my rules.”

“Sure.”

She gestured at the packet on the table. “You look spaced out. Eat a biscuit—it’ll ground you.”

Smiling, he took one and dunked it. “I’m not surprised I’m spaced out, after what you just did to me.”

“Er, excuse me, I kind of think you did the doing.”

“You took your top off.” She had no answer to that, and he smirked before taking her hand again. “I’m glad you did. I couldn’t think what to say.”

“I guess we didn’t need words.”

“No.”

They sat and drank their tea. She hadn’t turned on any lights, so the room was cast in twilight. She finished her tea, got up and put the mug in the sink. Rusty finished his and handed his mug to her. She put his cup next to hers and looked at them for a moment. Then she came over to him.

“Come on.” She took his hand and led him back into the living room.

Faith turned to him, wondering if he could hear the pounding of her heart. “Take off your pants and sit down.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She went over to the cupboard in the corner, extracted some candles, and started placing them around the room and lighting them. Soon a warm glow bathed the room and the air filled with the scent of lavender, rose and sandalwood.

She went over to the iPod on the table and chose a slow playlist she’d been concocting for this very purpose. As the music started playing, she smiled at Rusty where he sat on the sofa, arms along the back, watching her. She kept the volume low but danced for a while, and he rewarded her with a smile, albeit a sad one.

She felt strangely euphoric, in spite of the fact that she knew this was the last time they’d ever make love. It was as if the future had vanished and there was only the here and now, and the here and now was wonderful. Rusty Thorne sat on her sofa in only his boxers, red hair falling across his forehead, looking at her the way he looked at Roman architecture, with a sense of wonder, as if there was nothing more beautiful in the whole world.

Elton John’s “Sweet Painted Lady” came on the iPod, and Rusty raised an eyebrow. “Seems appropriate.”

She came closer to him, still dancing in his T-shirt. “Are you calling me a tart?” He continued to stare at her, eyebrow raised, and she started laughing, grasped the bottom of the T-shirt and pulled it off. She continued to dance, naked, and linked her hands on the top of her head, singing to the music as she swayed around the room.

Rusty said nothing, still watching her, sighing occasionally, and eventually she took pity and went over to him. She sat astride him, on his thighs, and took his hands in hers.

“Are you sure about this?” She kissed his fingertips. “It won’t be easy.”

“I’m sure.” His eyes were a rich green in the candlelight, like emeralds, glittering in the flickering flames. He linked his fingers with hers. Again, she felt a swell of euphoria, of pleasure that he was there, all hers for the next hour or so, completely under her control.

She slid a little more down his thighs, widening her own, but not quite touching his body. “Tantric sex is actually a discipline which should be developed over weeks and months. We can’t really do it justice tonight. But we can try out a couple of its techniques.”

“Okay.”

“It’s about building sexual energy, abstaining from orgasms and letting the energy circulate back into the body.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t look so disappointed,” she said, nose crinkling. “I said we’d adapt it for tonight. I’ve made up my own rules.”

He laughed, and she felt a surge of affection for him. Poor Rusty. Deep as an ocean, seething and restless, confused and hurting. She wanted to hug him to her, draw out all his pain, but all she could do was show him how much she loved him.

“Are you comfortable?” she asked softly.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” She wriggled until she felt relaxed and then put her arms around his neck, leaning on the back of the sofa. “Now, one key thing here is to keep eye contact. I think it’s going to be weird at first, but it’s important because there’s no hiding when you’re looking into each other’s eyes, and tonight’s about baring our souls, sweetheart.”

For the first time he looked wary, but he said, “Okay.”

She took off her watch and placed it on the back of the sofa, where she could see it without having to move. “Right. Five minutes, ish. And the first thing we’re going to think of is how we felt about each other before we got together.”

“Okay,” he said again. She’d wondered whether he might find this amusing, and make some joke, but he didn’t. He seemed relaxed and calm, his arms around her, his fingers linked behind her back.

She settled herself. And then she looked into his eyes.

She’d always thought they were green. And they were, generally, but for the first time, up close, she saw how many other colours were within them, like an Impressionist painting. Around the pupils, which were large and sucked in the light like black holes, were rings of sand-coloured yellow, surrounded by dark green petal-shapes, as if his glassy orbs reflected two sunflowers. Beyond the dark green petals was a cloudy blend of yellows and greens, but also flecks of blue and brown, and, right at the edge, tiny sparkles of gold.

She thought back to the time she first met him. He hadn’t changed that much, still long and lean, more muscular now, still as restless, still as hot and sexy. She remembered how she used to sit on the low wall fronting her parents’ house while the boys played soccer and rugby and basketball out front, Dan, Rusty, Toby and several others. Her eyes had always fallen on the lad with the red hair, who seemed a tad more serious than the others. He’d laughed and joked with them, but he’d sometimes turn up with a bruise or a scrape that she knew wasn’t caused by falling off a skateboard, because his eyes would be dark and broody. She’d wanted to go up to him and kiss the frown between his eyes until it went away, but she’d never been brave enough, and besides, he’d usually had a girl hanging around. Sometimes she’d found her gaze straying to them when they kissed, and she’d watched with envy, ashamed to be prying. But she’d been unable to tear her gaze away from where he’d cupped the girl’s head possessively, and the way he’d pressed himself against her, making the girl giggle and push him away playfully. She’d dreamed at night about how it would feel to be that girl, having Rusty kiss her, press himself against her, lying hot and frustrated in her bed. Was it possible she’d been in love with him her whole life?

She thought about her eighteenth birthday, how he’d dragged her under the lemon trees and kissed her, and automatically her gaze dropped to his lips. They started to curve, as if he’d guessed what she was thinking about. He smiled, and she smiled back, wondering if he was seeing the scene playing before him, as she was, the smell of lemons and mandarins in the air, the warmth of the night wrapping around her like his arms, his lips cool on hers.

She shifted, knowing her smile had turned into a frown. This wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought. His eyes remained calm, however, soothing her, and she sighed and settled. Her eyes flicked to the watch. More than five minutes had already passed.

She licked her lips. Her mouth was dry. “Now we’re going to think about the last few weeks,” she said, her voice husky. “I want you to think about each sin, and about what we’ve done, and how you’ve felt.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rusty nodded. He felt relaxed and calm at last, the most relaxed he’d felt all week. Like he’d come home, that this was where he belonged, sitting there on the couch with Faith on his lap, her body warm in his arms, her beautiful brown eyes locked on his. He knew brown irises were the most common type in the world, but there was nothing common about Faith’s eyes. The colour of polished mahogany, they had a strange pattern of light brown circles he’d never noticed before. They reminded him of tree rings, dissected by reddish-brown lines radiating out from the centre, making him think of sunlit trees, dappled leaves and forests in autumn. They were such a warm colour, which didn’t surprise him, as he was sure the warmth of her personality radiated out through them.

He began thinking about their journey over the past few weeks. Watching porn in the motel, Faith moving on top of him so erotically, the DVD of the two girls in the background. He remembered how worried he’d been, but she’d taken him in hand, literally, recognising he needed to be talked into it, knowing even then what he needed and how to make him feel better.

He thought about the first time they’d gone down on each other, and how he’d watched her in the moonlight, filled with awe at her beauty. Was that the point he’d fallen in love with her? Or had it begun long ago, with the moment she stood in front of him in her bikini, only fifteen years old, but hot as a model, with her taunting, saucy eyes?

The song changed, and he began thinking about the time at the lake, when she’d gone to all that trouble with the food, spending hours tempting him with oysters and figs and Lord knew what else. He knew the exact moment she thought about the Mars Bar, because a flush appeared on her cheeks and she lowered her gaze for a second, and he laughed, loving the way he could make her blush in retrospect. They kept giggling for a while, but he kept his eyes locked on hers, determined that he wasn’t going to be the one to break the spell.

He thought about how she’d stripped for him at the hotel, and how she’d driven him to the edge afterward. It had been the first time he’d realised how hot she was, how much she understood what he wanted in bed. It had been a revelation, his first eureka moment, and the thought now made him wish he were back there, with three sins still to go.

Her eyes glittered with amusement, and he knew she was thinking about the handcuffs. He gave her an exasperated look and she laughed, leaning forward to kiss him on the nose, the first time she’d touched her lips to him since she’d climbed on him. He sighed, and then their gazes met and he knew she was thinking about the beach house, and all the fun they’d had. And how she’d taken him by the hand and led him toward the darkness, and kept him safe when he feared he was going to be overwhelmed.

And now the seventh sin had arrived, and his time with her was nearly over. His own regret was mirrored in her eyes, but she smiled, moving forward a little more so she was just brushing his boxers.

“Okay,” Faith said softly. “The next step is about exchange of breath. We need to keep our breathing in sync. You breathe out, I breathe in, and vice versa. That way our energies are intertwining.” She waited again for him to make a joke, but he still appeared to be taking this seriously, because he didn’t move, his arms and hands warm on her skin.

Between her legs, she could feel he was erect and ready for her, but he didn’t try to press it against her. He was going to wait for her.
How sweet
.

Tipping her head so their lips were almost touching, she breathed out slowly through her mouth, and then breathed in, watching his ribs rise and fall in response.

The music changed, and she sighed, which he drank in, returning it to her with an exhalation. Her hands rested on the back of his head, and she stroked his short hair with her thumbs.

Close up, she could see every detail on his skin. The small chickenpox scar on his cheek. He’d shaved that morning, and now had a slight hint of stubble on his chin. If she were to move her face against his, it would burn her skin, making a slight rasping sound. His lips were slightly apart, the bottom fuller than the top, his straight teeth just visible. His breath smelled sweet, of biscuit and tea, and mint—he’d brushed his teeth before he came to visit her. The thought made her soften like butter on a radiator.