Part 8 (1/2)

”I'm sorry about that too, for losing control. Or nearly.” When he had dried her he kissed her again and she enjoyed the warmth of his body.

Then he looked at her, and his eyes were grey and intense.

”I love you.”

His words hung in the air. She couldn't breathe, her whole being sang with joy.

”Do you really?” She hadn't thought it possible for him to feel that way about her.

”Christ, of course I do. Do you think I could have done that to you if I didn't?”

”I love you too.”

He put his arms around her and held her until she fell asleep.

14. Growing closer.

Late autumn sunlight filtered through the gap in the curtain, waking her. She was alone in his bed, sticky, rumpled, sore.

For a moment she thought he had abandoned her and panicked.

Then he came into the room with a cup of tea.

”How are you?”

She was embarra.s.sed for him to see her so dishevelled and tucked herself further below the sheet.

”About last night...” he began.

Oh G.o.d. He was going to tell her that it was all a mistake, that he regretted it. Maybe she had been terrible in bed.

”I didn't mean for everything to happen so quickly. I truly meant to take my time. The problem is that I lose control around you but it shouldn't be like that, I should have been far more gentle, your first time.”

He came and sat down by her on the bed, putting the cup down on a table.

”I don't want to hurt you, but I'm worried about the reaction I have towards you. I wanted to be your first, to make you properly mine, and something overtook me.”

She loved his possessiveness. ”I didn't ask you to stop.”

”My fear is that I wouldn't have done, even if you had.”

This gave Laura a s.h.i.+very feeling inside, and she felt a throb between her legs.

”I don't mind though. I like it when you take control.” She said this last almost in a whisper. He saw the desire in her eyes.

”Does it bother you that I'm not older?” she asked.

”I wish it bothered me more.” He pulled the sheet back from her, revealing her body. He ran both his hands over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and her nipples peaked at his touch. ”G.o.d, how I want you.”

He rolled her onto her stomach, and stroked his hands down the contours of her back and waist. It was soothing and electrifying. She felt him kiss her down her spine. All the points of her body that she wanted him to touch - her nipples, between her legs - were facing downwards and inaccessible. She squirmed against the sheet.

He put his hands on her thighs, and parted them. ”I know you're probably sore, but I have to have you. I will be gentle,” he said.

She was sore and it stung as he started to push into her from behind, but she wanted it too. He entered her as slowly as he could, fraction by fraction, giving her time to adjust. ”Christ you're so tight, does it hurt?”

”A little. But don't stop.”

She felt him stretching her, filling her. The slowness made her feel it even more than the previous evening.

She knew - she could hear it in his voice - that a dark part of him wanted to hurt her, to dominate her. To make her his. And the knowledge of it made her able to abandon herself to him.

He covered her back with his body, and she was completely filled by him. He rocked back and forth into her in small movements, still slowly. She felt the hugeness of him inside her, the weight above.

”I don't want you to ever f.u.c.k anyone else but me.”

The harshness of his language only heightened her sensations.

Then he put his hands around her waist and drove into her fast and hard, over and over and over, until they were both spent.

The rest of Sat.u.r.day pa.s.sed in a kind of haze. Laura felt an intense joy just to be around him. She didn't dare go outside in case she was seen by a teacher, as many staff stayed on the school grounds over exeat weekends.

They were trapped together. The cottage was a bunker amid the storm clouds gathering. He asked her if she wanted to watch television but she didn't want to let the outside world in, to break the spell.

He had some marking to do, so she looked through his bookshelf to find something to read. Its contents were mainly in German. Most of his books were in storage, he told her. ”There are some novels by the bed.”

They weren't by authors that Laura had ever read, though she had heard of some of them. One was by P G Wodehouse with a cover ill.u.s.tration of cricketers, so she chose that one.

He noticed the cover when she came back down with it. ”You like cricket? Or Wodehouse?”

”I've never read him. But I've played cricket with my cousins.”

She had barely had time to read the first pages when he threw down his marking and came over to her.

”Companionable silence isn't working for me.” He put his hand under her top and felt her breast. ”I want you again.”

She loved him touching her, loved him wanting her, loved his intensity even as it frightened her.

”Take your clothes off,” he said.

”Here?”

”Now.”