Chapter 7

Jack

Ican’t get enough. My hands are everywhere, caressing, stroking, squeezing, my body unable to believe what’s happening and my brain telling me not to open my eyes or it will have all been a dream.

“Jack, please.”

Definitely too realistic to be a dream, her voice, her scent, her taste, it’s real, and as I get reacquainted with every line and curve of Paisley’s body, my heart hammers in my chest.

I’m not quite sure how we ended up here. Something to do with the live band we saw tonight, who then agreed to play the wedding for us. And a lot of celebrating. And a fair few drinks. But Paisley is right here with me, despite our drink intake, her own hands having pulled up her dress as I pushed her against the wall the moment we got through the front door, the cab ride over having been one of two halves.

The first half was a lot of fleeting looks, quick glances and then long, lingering moments. The second was an altogether different one. We both pounced. our mouths meeting in a clash of heat, tongues dancing as ten years of untamed longing came rushing back.

Instinct had taken over as the cab pulled up at her place. There was no question as to whether I was getting out the cab, simply her taking my hand and me following. We’d barely stopped kissing, still haven’t. If we do, we might start questioning it.

It’s been ten long years since I was last intimate with this woman, and ten years since I’ve felt the way I do in this moment. The moment she’d pulled up her dress in the hall, I was down on my knees, giving her everything she wanted. And now, here on the sofa, all clothes discarded in a haphazard frenzy of want and need, I’m blinking back tears, and I’m already on the edge.

The breathy way she said my name, begged for more, every tremble and shiver amplified, it’s too much to take and I slide into her, give her all of me in one smooth movement.

The gasp, the long, satisfied moan, it spurs me on. It’s not the first time she’s been beneath me on a couch, not the first time we’ve been out of control after a night out, and even with my mind slightly fuzzy around the edges, I’m already praying it’s not the last.

The way she wraps her legs around me, heels digging into my arse, pulling me in, it’s familiar, needy, and I can’t hold back any longer, can’t keep going slow. It may be the first time we’ve done this in ten years, but I remember what she likes, know how to make her fall apart, how to coax that orgasm from her. And I do, twice, before I allow myself to shatter right alongside her.

****

The drive to the airport is a long and silent one. Me driving, her staring out the window, my attempts at chit-chat met with one-word answers. Seems she’s still feeling all kinds of things about last night.

We’d fallen asleep after our antics, woken around 5am, both of us a little confused, the events of the night before a little unclear. We both knew, but neither addressed it. Paisley had scrambled out of my arms, gathered her clothes from where they’d been strewn, and disappeared into the bathroom.

It took thirty-five minutes for her to reappear again, and she seemed genuinely shocked to find me sitting at the kitchen counter. I had hoped to talk to her, discuss what this meant, but one look at her and I knew she’d shut down, wasn’t dealing with it as well as I hoped. I just prayed she didn’t regret it. But I knew her, and so I gave her what she needed, time to process things. Even though walking out that front door hurt like a bastard.

I thought the atmosphere driving back from the airport would be better, that the presence of Flora and Elliott might help things somewhat, that although Paisley had been keeping her sister up to date on the plans, that they’d chat and things would feel less strained. I was wrong.

I happen to glance up as I drive, catch Flora’s eye in the rear-view mirror, and I see the flicker of recognition, watch her eyes drift to Paisley.

“Oh fuck, you two had sex,” she exclaims suddenly, and loudly, and right as we’re sitting in traffic with my window open. I’m sure the old couple in the next lane didn’t need to know all about my sex life.

I say nothing, not admitting anything that might make Paisley feel awkward. And a quick look over at her tells me she already does. Cheeks aflame, head down, biting her bottom lip.

“I’m taking it from the silence here that it wasn’t the reunion of the century,” she continues when neither of us reply.

“Can we drop it?” Paisley asks, still not looking up.

“All I’m saying is, it’s about time.”

“Flo, please, just stop.”

“Bet that’s not what you said last night,” Flora teases.

Only a little sister could get away with that, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, do you?”

“Woah, don’t turn on me,” I say, hands briefly off the wheel and up in front of me. “But, she’s not wrong.”

Somehow, in my obvious wisdom, I think a mad Paisley might actually be better than a silent one. That’s the only reason I can think of for my comment.

“Me? Oh, I think you’ll find it was you who was all desperate and needy.”

“When we got back to yours, you started it, seduced me. Couldn’t even wait until the door closed. And it was definitely you who said the words ‘don’t stop’ and not just once either from what I remember.”

“Guys,” Flora interrupts. “Tell me you actually got to the bedroom, that you didn’t do it right there in the hall, or the kitchen. Shit, do I need to replace the couch?”

Both of us fall silent.

“Guys! No, the couch, really? We sit on that,” Elliott moans quietly.

“This is why we should have got leather,” Flora sighs. “Wipe clean.”

Paisley is seething, I can see it, I also know she’s trying to hold something back. I remember the signs. The tight lips, clenched jaw, way she’s picking at her thumbnail with her middle finger of the same hand. She’s stewing, and it’s only a matter of time before she blows. Which might actually be good for her. I expected it sooner, to be honest. The quiet, unsure version of her, it wasn’t how the old Paisley acted. She was more kick down doors and ask questions later. And I loved that about her. But then, there’s no version of this woman that I couldn’t love.

She makes it until we’re back in town. Just.

“For your information, I didn’t instigate last night, you did,” she hisses. “You asked me to dance—”

“Dance Pais, not have sex. You’re the one who led me in from the cab.”

“That wasn’t just dancing, that was … the way you held … I’m such a fucking idiot, of course it didn’t mean anything, you’re the king of pulling way, aren’t you? Let me out here. I can’t look at you one more second.”

I pull over, straight across a lane of slow-moving cars and park at an angle against the kerb. “Yeah that’s it, run away again, Pais. Just like before, you just go ahead and leave everyone behind to try and pick up the pieces again.”

She shoots daggers at me as she reaches opens the door. “At least I tried before I left. You didn’t even bother trying, checked out the second things got hard.”

And then she’s gone.