Page 124 of Kiwi Sin

When I made it up the drive to the historic stone building that was the B&B and found a carpark, though, Oriana didn’t open her door. She looked at me, twisted the gold band on her hand, and said, “I’m nervous.”

“Me, too,” I said, and waited.

“But I want to do it,” she said.

What did I do now? The only thing I could think of was to take her hand and say, “I love you. I’m never going to hurt you. We’ll do it together, and we’ll go as slow as you need to.”

“What if I’m not good enough at it, though?” she asked.

“You’ll be good enough,” I said. “No worries.” And then I kissed her. In broad daylight, in my ute.Ourute.

Married.

My hand in her hair, and my other one close to the neckline of the pretty pink dress that I could see through. Sweet and sexy and soft, just like Oriana. I kissed her neck, and her hand tightened in my hair. I whispered in her ear, “I get to take off your clothes,” then kissed her neck some more while she made a noise and I knew she was getting wet.

Was it going to be as good as I’d imagined? I had no idea. I only knew one thing.

I was never going to quit trying to make it better.

* * *

Oriana

I had a pretty nightdress for this, all white satin with cutouts of lace. You got ready in the bath, I’d read in a story, and came out scented and adorned and glamorous. When Gabriel stopped outside the door of our room, though, turned the key, then lifted me into his arms and carried me across the threshold …

I couldn’t think about any of that.

He didn’t put me down before he kissed me. His tongue was in my mouth again, and my hand was around his head, pulling him in.

He set me down on the bed. It was big, with four posts, and it was dressed in white. Gabriel dropped the key, then pulled his phone and a little speaker from his trouser pocket and set them on the table. He turned to me, his eyes shining impossibly blue in his face, and asked, “OK?”

“Yeh,” I managed to say. “O … OK.” I still had my sandals on—they had wedge heels and a pattern of roses on the leather, and were the prettiest, most delicate shoes I’d ever owned—and now, I reached to take them off.

“Don’t,” he said. “Let me.” With something in his voice I’d never heard before.

He pushed buttons on the little speaker, and on his phone, and a song came on, slow and dark and moody.

“Nights in white satin,” a man sang, and I shuddered.

Gabriel said, “Ever since I first heard this song, you’ve been all I can think of when it comes on. Seeing you like this, on my bed. Waiting for me.” He reached for one of my shoes, and I held my breath as he unbuckled it and dropped it to the floor, and then while he did the other one. He was kicking his way out of his own shoes, and I was on my knees on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt, running my hands over his broad chest and the ridges of muscle below it.

I’d touched him here, in the dark. In a cramped ute, our breath steaming up the windows. Now, it was day, he was here, and he was glorious. He was on his knees, too, his hand in my hair, pulling a bit. Pulling my head back. He was feasting on my neck, and I’d stopped thinking about his shirt.

His hand behind me, then. Searching for the zip, and finding it. And his hand stilling.

“Turn around,” he said. “Please.”

I did.

There was a mirror on the opposite wall.

He was behind me, one hand pulling my hair away from my neck, the other lowering my zip. I could see it happening, there in the mirror. My knees splayed apart, my hand behind my head, reaching for him.

He drew his hand down my bare back, and I shivered. He pulled the dress over my shoulders, it dropped to below my waist, and I looked at my pale-pink bra in the mirror, at his hand on my shoulder, and shuddered.

He said, “I’m going to take your clothes off,” and I had to close my eyes. The music was swelling around me, all aching voice and soaring strings, and I opened my eyes and watched my dress coming off. Then Gabriel was kneeling behind me, his hands under my breasts.

Watching in the mirror.