Page 25 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

KNIT TWO TOGETHER

When Mia glanced at the toaster in Oliver’s arms, he caught the longing look in her eye. He knew what she was thinking; it was in better condition than when it left.

Standing at the front door of her house, she asked, ‘Did it need a hug?’

He smiled. ‘Good as new.’

When her eyes lifted and met his, he saw a faint quiver of excitement spread through her.

‘I know what I want,’ she said. ‘It’s you.’

He wanted to drop the toaster, throw her over his shoulder, carry her into the bedroom, remove every piece of clothing and give her the orgasm of her life. He settled for, ‘Why don’t we take this inside?’

After Oliver stepped into the hallway, she closed the door behind them.

They were alone in a private space, but there was something wrong with the scene.

It was the toaster. Taking it from him, she placed it on the edge of the hall table.

A precarious position, it almost toppled off, but Oliver caught it and moved it to a safer location at the back of the table.

‘Sorry, I’m nervous,’ she confessed.

‘Nerves are good.’

‘Since when?’

Free of the toaster, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. Long, slow, and intense, it satisfied a deep need within him; an imagined moment had become a reality.

They found themselves up against the wall, his hands twisting in her hair while their tongues met. She kissed him like her life depended on it. Fiercely intense, he reciprocated. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone this much,’ she whispered.

It was all he needed to hear. At last, after weeks of thinking about her, they were finally together.

Desire ripped through him like a wildfire.

His hand slipped down her back. Grabbing her bottom, he pulled her closer.

Her stomach pressed firmly against his rising erection as his lips grazed her neck.

He felt her swallow. ‘Would you…would you like to take off my dress?’ she asked.

‘Yes. I would like that very much.’

Stepping back, she slipped off her cardigan and it fell to the floor.

Her dress had a halter neck with a high collar.

Her shoulders and arms were bare. Oliver wanted to drop to his knees.

His fingers had other ideas. Finding the zipper, he ran his hand down the back of the dress.

It opened, fell down her body, and landed on the floor.

She stepped out of it, and it was then that he noticed the colourful hand-knitted socks on her feet, but no underwear.

His eyes travelled up her legs, along her thighs and hips, and over her pale stomach and creamy breasts. He was a leg man, but nipples were a close second. He wanted them in his mouth. ‘I could look at you forever.’

Tilting her head, she sighed.

He pulled her into his arms. ‘Mia, tell me to stop, otherwise?—’

‘Don’t stop.’

He picked her up. Her legs circled his waist, and he kissed her again. Softer this time, but deep and lustful, so his intentions were obvious. ‘Are we doing this in the hallway?’

‘Yes…I guess.’ She was panting heavily.

‘Should I get a condom?’

She nodded.

Gently, he put her down. As he retrieved his wallet from his back pocket, her deft fingers unfastened his belt. The button of his jeans followed. When she yanked the zipper down, he flinched, the teeth grazing the skin of his erection bulging in his underwear.

‘Fuck, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ he reassured.

‘I didn’t mean…’ She stepped back and covered her breasts with her hands.

Suddenly, she seemed timid. He thought her resolve might be crumbling. In a reassuring gesture, he left the condom on the side table and put his arms around her. ‘Okay?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Can I kiss you?’

She smiled. Rising onto her toes, she kissed him.

He ran his hands down her long, naked back. He paused. ‘Can I grab your arse?’

‘Yes.’

‘And how about this, can I kiss your neck? ’

She tilted her head. An invitation. He continued asking for her permission. She continued to approve.

‘Can I take your T-shirt off?’ she asked, tugging at his shirt.

He pulled the shirt over his head; it was the least he could do. She kissed his chest and when she squeezed his nipple, he knew he would return the gesture – but not yet.

‘I’m ready… let’s just…’ Her breaths were fast and heavy.

A moment later, his jeans and underwear were on the floor, and he hardly knew how they got there. He reached for the condom. She watched expectantly as he opened the packet and rolled it over his penis.

‘Nicely done,’ she said.

He laughed. ‘Thank you.’

His lips were on her neck again, his hands caressing her bottom, and a moment later, her legs were circling his waist. Balancing against the wall, his free hand manipulated his penis – his erection was substantial – until he was inside her, deep and warm.

He heard the desire in her voice as she said his name; it turned an ember into a fire inside him.

Satisfying his body and his heart, it felt so good, so right.

Closing her eyes, she pressed her hips toward him. The look on her face was pure ecstasy. Their thrusts escalated. Harder. Faster. He wanted this so much.

‘Oh god, Oliver. Oh, my god. Oliver. Oliver.’

‘I know. I fucking know.’ He could feel her clench as she came, and he covered her neck and face with kisses.

Her body sighed with satisfaction. Then she shuddered, her breath catching in her throat. Looking at her, he noticed her eyes were glassy. Tears, he wondered?

‘Relief,’ she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

‘That was quick,’ he whispered .

‘I’ve been on edge all morning,’ she said. ‘The anticipation.’

He understood. But he was going to take his time.

She closed her eyes and pressed her body against his.

The rhythm was slow at first, but the momentum built.

After fucking her against the wall, he moved to the opposite side of the hall.

She dropped her head back while he fucked her against the hall table, her bottom resting on the edge.

It was the sight of her long neck and breasts, the shape of her naked torso, that spurred his orgasm.

A rush of emotion and ecstasy. Nothing compared.

There was no other feeling in the world like this.

It was only then that he closed his eyes.

Moments later, when he opened them, she was curled into his chest, her arms once again around him, and the side of her face pressed against his shoulder.

‘You are a surprise,’ he said.

‘Are you a man who likes surprises?’

He chuckled. ‘Yes, I like them a lot.’

‘We didn’t even make it to the kitchen.’

He tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘Are you okay?’

She nodded.

After collecting her dress from the floor, he handed it to her.

She hugged the garment to her chest. ‘You know where the bathroom is. I’ll see you in there…in the kitchen, I mean, not the bathroom.’

He ran his fingers through her hair. Standing naked in the hallway, wearing only her fluffy socks and clutching her clothes, he had never seen a woman look more attractive or more vulnerable.

He didn’t want to get dressed or meet her in the kitchen.

Taking her to bed and lying with his arms around her sounded like a much better idea.

But her comfort was his only concern. He would do as she asked .

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

After nodding, she retreated, walking backwards so he wouldn’t see her naked bottom, which he thought was sweet but absurd – his eyes had been all over her.

In the bathroom, he dressed and sorted himself out, adjusting his boxer shorts and jeans. When he stepped into the kitchen, he was welcomed with familiar scents: homely cooking smells and coffee.

Sitting down on the window seat to wait, he patted the dog for a few minutes. When Snood pawed his leg and drooled, Oliver said. ‘It’s only eleven, you can’t be hungry.’

Oliver’s stillness didn’t last. Restless, he stood up and roamed around the small kitchen and sitting room.

Collecting an Australian art book from the table, he drew it closer and flicked through the pages – colonial paintings of lonely men and women in the bush.

Draft versions of her patterns lay scattered over the table.

She used graph paper and knitting symbols to represent the stitches and knots.

For a while, he studied the patterns. Then he wandered around the kitchen.

Opening the pantry, he was impressed by the size of her spice rack.

Noticing a loose lid on a bottle of olive oil, he tightened it.

When she still didn’t arrive, he caught Snood’s eye. ‘Ah,’ he said.

Now dressed in her underwear, Mia stared out her bedroom window.

The two of them were now bound by the closest of bonds.

It was joy and pleasure, but there was also fear; if she wanted to escape, it would be difficult, but not impossible.

She had a plan. A step-by-step strategy to ease her way into whatever this was.

Reckless, impassioned sex in the hallway, she could manage .

Oliver entered. He crossed the room and stood behind her. She took hold of his arm and wrapped it around her shoulder. Needing no more encouragement, he kissed the side of her face. ‘I want you to know, I didn’t plan for that to happen.’

‘It was inevitable,’ she said and pointed to the concrete birdbath in the garden. ‘Rosellas. That one’s scratching its head with its foot.’

They had a rectangular view of the garden changing seasons. The low-maintenance banksias were in bloom. Golden wattle and kangaroo paw were about to flower. Two brightly coloured rosellas took turns bathing in the birdbath. One was more active, dancing around the edge.

‘That’s the male. He’s trying to impress her,’ Oliver said.

‘I’m impressed. That manoeuvre can’t be easy.’ She tilted her head to one side, watching the bird. Then, with a grave expression, she turned and looked into his eyes. ‘Would you like some toast?’