Chapter 2

Puppy Dog Eyes

I’m not sure how I didn’t spill everything to James earlier. When you’re locked in that gaze, it’s hard not to give him the world, whatever he wants.

Despite the question lingering, I’d skirted the reason I was here, and after a few minutes of slightly awkward chat, we’d said our goodbyes. Ever the gentleman, right before they vanished through the trees, James had glanced back, said they were just down by the lake, to pop by if I needed anything.

What I needed was a cold shower.

The man still did things to me. Even more so with his new look. But it’s more than that, it’s the connection we’d always had, the instant, easy way we fit together. It’s still there. And ever since I walked away, I’ve felt a little incomplete.

I’d had to leave, though. There were … reasons.

Anyway, no time for thinking about all that. With the campfire lit and water boiling for a much-needed cup of tea, I head back to the tent to grab the ingredients for a simple dinner.

Except I don’t make it into the tent. Instead, the second I pull back the flap, I let out an almighty scream. I panic, run, trip over a tree root and lose my footing, end up scrabbling in the mud to get away.

I’m on my arse, about twenty feet from the tent, when Bear appears at my side, and seconds later, James, too.

“What’s wrong? You okay? You hurt?”

I look up as he crouches beside me, face close, and again, I lose my words. This time though, Bear seems to have deciphered my silence, found the source of my distress. He’s a quiet, calm dog, so the bark and subsequent growls at my tent distract us instantly.

“Bear, come,” I yell, finally able to get my words out. “There’s a snake.”

James is at the tent in a few strides, pulls Bear away, and moves my things slowly as he looks for the snake.

“Jay, be careful.”

There’s a chuckle as he pulls back my sleeping bag. “It’s a slow worm, Kitty Kat,” he grins, slipping easily into the nickname he’s called me from the moment we met.

It throws me and I don’t see him approach until it’s too late, a golden-grey snake in his hands. I stagger backwards, trip over the same root as before, windmill my arms, hop, twist, and still end up on my arse. This time, in a puddle.

Great, just great. More embarrassment.

There’s much commotion from Bear who, being the overprotective beast he is, positions himself between me and James and snarls at the snake, sorry, slow worm, until James takes it off into the woods to release it.

“Like a mile away, yeah?” I call after him.

All I hear in reply is a laugh and so I quickly head into my tent, give it a good check over for slithery things, and once again change my clothes.

“One giant, man-eating snake released eighty miles away,” he teases upon his return just two minutes later.

“My hero,” I reply, eyelashes aflutter.

Oh god, stop that. I’m flirting. I’m in no state to flirt. Despite the wipe down I gave my legs while he was gone, I’m still more mud than human at the moment,

“I could get used to hearing that.”

Don’t keep it up, Katie, just get out the tent and let the flirting go, stop it now.

“Well, maybe you could stick around for a drink, you know, for protection.”

What am I doing? This is going to end in disaster. I’m not over this man. I’ll go home broken-hearted if I let myself relax with him.

He grins. “I’ll happily play protector. Do I need to fashion a sword out of sticks and vines?”

I can’t help it, I laugh, and again find myself captivated by those eyes. If it wasn’t for Bear snuffling around and nudging my hand for some love, I’d probably still be there, lost totally to James Lewis Knight.

“If you think it would help,” I say, almost a whisper as he steps toward me.

“I think … that you and I have some unfinished business.”

I swallow hard, am unable to move. And as he takes my hand and pulls it to his lips, a kiss, soft and lingering, I can do nothing other than let him.

“You, Kitty Kat, always have been, and always will be, the thing I’d die for.”

No, not words, not gentle, tender words. My heart won’t take it, it’s still recovering.

Luckily for me, a large drop of water lands right on our entwined fingers, and seconds later we’re standing in a downpour.

“Grab anything you need,” he laughs. “My tent is bigger, you don’t want to sit over here alone. Come on, it’s almost five, I’ll even make dinner once this rain stops.”

Me and James in a tent. Together. How could a girl say no?

****

With the setting sun casting an orange and red glow across the still waters of the lake, the comfort of Bear’s heavy head in my lap, and a stomach full of campfire chilli, I feel more at peace than I have for a long time.

Although the rain was fleeting, the skies have yet to clear and dark clouds still hang ominously above where we sit on two fold-up chairs. We’ve talked, reminisced, most of our history and memories far less gloomy than the weather on this late April day. It’s been nice, comfortable even. Reminded me of the days before he started working all the time.

A sharp crack of thunder makes us jump, the concurrent streak of pure white across the sky lighting every inch of the surrounding forest, verdant shades of green picked out in luminous fashion before being plunged back into muted greys.

The rain comes once again, bringing with it a frenzy of movement. We’re better protected here than where I was camped, but the rain still penetrates the leafy canopy above, makes us dive for the khaki and blue of James’ tent.

All we can do is look out at the scene around us. The fire flickers in the darkening light, flames and water doing battle beneath skies that now churn with fury. Clouds chase as a blinding coruscation of light forks and crackles across the sky, reflected in the lake below in a million tiny fragments as the once still waters are ripped apart by a vengeful torrent.

It’s a maelstrom of light and sound, a deafening roar followed by mighty flare, over and over, a tempestuous ritual that demands to be heard.

Not unlike my own heartbeat as in the midst of all of this, James turns my head and kisses me. Slow, deliberate, at odds with the chaos and clamour outside. I’m set afire instantly as old feelings return to the surface, memories of taste and touch, pleasure and passion. But it’s more than that, than lust and physicality, it’s all consuming, a connection on a deeper level, cerebral, emotional, almost spiritual.

Hands revisit once familiar places, trails of heat left in their wake as fingers venture beneath clothes, removing each item reverently before reacquainting with the past. It’s all too easy to let go, to move together, to give in to these forces of nature.

I lie back, James above me, tender kisses dropped across my face, my neck, my chest, lower and lower until he’s performing his own ritual. On me, my body, and as every flick and lick sends me higher, it gets harder and harder to tell whether it’s the rumbling thunder making the earth move or just the waves of pleasure rippling through me.

His tongue dances across my clit, flicking, teasing, that grown out beard a sensation all of its own as it scrapes roughly against my sensitive inner thighs. I bury my fingers in his hair, hold him in place, moan after moan escaping my throat, wild and untamed, desperate for all I know he can make me feel.

My back arches as he pulls away and cool air sends shivers across my body, but he’s not gone for long. A finger runs along my seam, soft and slow, before slipping between my folds, spreading my wetness, sliding inside. It’s joined by a second, a third, stretching me as he nips at my clit, sucks it into his mouth, leaving my legs shaking and body trembling.

He keeps me right there on the edge until I beg for release, then slows down, backs off, repeats this over and over until I reach for myself, desperate to come.

His hand wraps around my wrist, pins it beside me, gives one last hard suck on my clit, then moves up my body. Lightning dances beyond the thin fabric that protects us from the deluge outside, highlights the curves and hollows on us both. We’re damp but hot, and I’m struck with my own lightning hot heat as he finally pushes inside, opens me up, the drag of his thickness sending ripples of pleasure deep within me.

The sound of our bodies moving together, against each other, the moans and gasps as he drives into me, they overtake the noise outside when white-hot heat surges through me, sends me falling, takes him with me. And then, as silence eventually falls outside, there’s nothing but us, our ragged breathing, and our sweat-slick bodies.

****

The night is dark and still as James and I lounge in deckchairs and look out across the lake. Bear is still curled up in his own section of tent, head lifting only at the sounds of the night, a brief curiosity at the outside world before returning to his slumber. The storm of just hours before has moved on, tranquillity having descended almost immediately once the last crash of thunder rumbled off into the distance.

The scenery looks different now, fresher, newer, like the storm has somehow revived it all, a regeneration of sorts. A heady scent of smoke and damp fills the air as the woods come back to life, as nocturnal creatures venture out with scratches and snuffles to see what the storm has left behind. The clear sky, inky and endless, and speckled with stars, cradles the moon as its ethereal glow paints everything with a silvery lustre. It’s magical.

I’m confused though, wonder just how I let myself fall right back into bed, or tent, with this man. I walked away once, and I never go back. It’s a rule I live by, if it didn’t work then, it wouldn’t work again. But then, I’ve never felt for anyone else what I do for James.

“You were my everything,” he whispers, hand holding mine, gaze still on the shimmering waters of the lake.

I say nothing, it’s like he’s inside my head already, I don’t need to tell him I felt the same. He knows.

“I should have fought for you, for us,” he continues. “But I was devastated when you walked away, and then when the anger eventually set in, it was all directed at you. For leaving, for the note that explained so much but left me with no way back, for not talking to me.”

“When?” I ask gently. “When could I have talked to you? At that point, I was lucky if I saw you.”

He nods, the hand not holding mine rubbing at the back of his neck. “I know. But I was building a life for us, wanted to take care of you, buy a house for the family we’d have one day.”

His words sting my heart. Family. It was something neither of us had known growing up. He went through foster home after foster home, with nothing really to call his own, while I was raised in a one-bed flat in a rough neighbourhood, by an unfit aunt. We’d both made it through, had thrived despite our pasts, and had shared our dreams for permanence and stability, of giving our own children the luxuries we never had. Except meeting him had made me realise something. The luxuries didn’t matter.

“I get that, but I just wanted you. We didn’t need the money or the fancy house, and … our kids wouldn’t have either. They’d have had everything they needed, two doting parents and a whole heap of love.”

It’s the first time we’ve spoken about anything since I walked away. There were times I nearly called, wanted to know how he was doing, times I regretted my decision. But I made it, and I had to live with it.

“I know. I got caught up in the dream, had my priorities wrong,” he says. “I don’t anymore.”

He looks at me, his face bathed in the glow of the fire, thumb brushing slowly across the back of my hand, and I know the exact words coming next. He’s looking at me like Bear looks at you when he wants something, all puppy dog eyes, almost forlorn with the fear he won’t get what he wants. And clearly what he wants is me. I want him too, have never stopped wanting him, but I don’t know if I’m ready to hear those words, to tell him the truth. My heart broke enough the first time around, what if nothing’s changed, if he’s just swapped one work obsession for another? What if it happens again? If I don’t want to hear these words, I’m going to have to do something, and now.

Three.

I can’t go back, it would be stupid to repeat all that went before.

Two.

I miss hearing him say it though.

One.

I’m done for.

“I love you Kitty Kat. Always have, always will,”

Yep. Done for.