Revue (9 page)

My God!
If a tongue had the power to subdue all movement from a person, then Josh’s wielded that power, the rhythmic lapping, heavy breathing and melding of his lips all working to strip any fight that remained.

I fell limp.

Hypnotised.

Tongue-tranced.

He pulled away, stepped back and placed one hand back on the wall. “That’s what I wanted to do last night before we were interrupted.”

“Yeah?” I asked softly, catching my breath and moving out from my caged position in front of him. “Well, lucky for you, you got what you wanted. Except last night, it wasn’t with me.”

I walked away and left him standing there, hopefully with the realisation that actions have consequences.

***

After a quick lunch in the café, I boarded the bus, and we were once again on our way to Canberra. I pulled out the book I’d found stashed in my suitcase by Em, when Josh appeared at my seat. “You mind if I sit?”

Holy shit! He asked permission for once in his life.
Deliberating my answer, I stared him down for a few seconds then shrugged. His demeanour was hesitant and that had me curious.

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, sliding into the seat.

I turned to look out of the window, uninterested in his apology. “It doesn’t matter, Josh. What’s done is done.”

“It does matter. I’ve been a jerk, and I’ve fucked you around. You don’t deserve it.”

“No, I don’t. That’s why it’s best we steer clear of each other as much as possible.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

His voice held an edge of sadness, so I turned to look at him. “Why?”

“Because you’re different.”

My forehead creased. I didn’t understand what he meant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know exactly.” Josh ran his hand through his hair then gripped the back of the seat’s headrest. “You’re just different. You’re not all la-de-dah and tits-in-my-face. And you don’t like me, and that pisses me off.”

My gaze dropped to my breasts. Sure, they weren’t huge, but they weren’t tiny either, coming in at a nice manageable DD-cup.

“There’s nothing wrong with your tits, Corinne,” he said, indifference lacing his tone. “They’re perfect. That’s not what I meant.”

I flicked my eyes back to his and crossed my arms over my chest, defensively. “What are you getting at, Josh? Just spit it out.”

“I like being around you. I don’t like being around the others.”

“So you treat me like shit and fuck them. Yeah, that makes sense.” I returned to watching the passing landscape out of the window, which was basically a blur of trees.

“Fine. I’ll fuck you and treat them like shit instead. How ’bout that?”

Rubbing my forehead, I shot him a glance, finding him smiling in anticipation of my reaction. “It’s not going to happen. You do know that, don’t you? I refuse to allow myself to be anyone’s puppet ever again. Especially not your sex puppet.”

He nodded and went to say something, opening his mouth and then closing it.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Stupid little fucking seats. Men have legs—legs need room. I bet Mr Bus Inventor was a midget.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I think Mr Bus Inventor was French.”

“Well, that explains it. They’re all short fuckers.”

I shook my head at his ridiculous generalisation. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told that many times.”

“I’m sure you have, but when it comes from the mouth of a skank with no brains, how much can it really mean?” I asked sarcastically.

A shit-eating grin formed on his face. “I reckon you’re jealous.”

“I guarantee you, I’m not.”

“Your bitchy tongue says otherwise.”

“My bitchy tongue is indifferent to what your tongue says and does, trust me.”

“Is that right?”

“Sure is.”

Rising from his seat, he walked to the front of the bus, returning moments later and tossing one of Baz’s apples in his hand. He then slid back into his seat, eyes gleaming deviltry as he bit into the fruit and crunched loudly.

“Why are you so happy?” I asked, narrowing my eyes, suspiciously. He had ‘shifty’ written all over him.

Josh shrugged and kept munching, darting his tongue to catch a drip of juice. He then flicked his gaze to mine before dragging said tongue up the length of the shiny green fruit in one long swipe. My core clenched before my mind caught on to what he was doing.
You son-of-a bitch!

Turning to look out of the window, I rested my head against my hand and tried to ignore his actions. I’d meant what I said about being indifferent to his tongue.
Yep, sure did. Don’t give a fat rat’s arse what he can do with it. Don’t care that his apple is seeing more sex than I am. Nope, don’t care.

Josh moaned ever so slightly. “Mmm … I love apples. They’re so fucking sweet and juicy. I could eat them all day.” He slurped mildly, grabbing my attention once again. I couldn’t fucking help myself and peeked between my fingers, eagerly watching him devour the thing.

Holy fuck!
Never in my life had I ever wanted to be a piece of fruit like I had in that moment. I wanted to snatch that apple from his mouth, climb on top of his fucking head and convince him he’d like my peach just as much. The way his tongue laved the flesh, how his lips pursed as he sucked in the juice, it had my muscles contracting and my heart jumping up and down like a frog on crack.

For a good solid minute he went to town on the apple, licking and sucking it this way and that. I couldn’t look away, my eyes drawn to his mouth and the apparent magic it was weaving. I was even waiting for the apple to climax and scream his name.

When he finished, he held the core between his fingertips and displayed it proudly, and I swear that if my pussy could talk, she would’ve asked him if he was still hungry. She was ready to offer herself as dessert.

Josh shifted in his seat, his brow furrowed, his expression almost mocking. “Sorry. I should’ve asked if you wanted one.”

I pried my bottom lip out from between my teeth and politely answered, “Thanks, but I’ve had one already.”

From that day on, I knew I’d never look at an apple the same again. They would represent the kind of Josh-mouth-magic I’d never experience. Yes, apples were
evil
; they were torturous fruity orbs of woe.

Baz only added to my apple-agony by offering me one every freakin’ morning I boarded the bus. Actually, he didn’t offer—he insisted. Josh thought it was hilarious, of course, because he knew his apple-lingus demonstration had ‘flicked a switch’, and he would smirk like a motherfucker every time Baz held out the basket as I ascended the steps. Damn Josh. Damn him for ruining the simple act of eating an apple for the rest of my life.

Today I would get a reprieve though, as it was Sunday and our final day in Canberra. Essentially, it was a ‘free’ day. The guys weren’t performing, so it was my last chance to finally see the parts of Canberra I’d missed during the past few days. I’d already visited the Australian War Memorial and Parliament House, but was yet to see some of the national buildings and sights situated around Lake Burley Griffin. So today, I was going for a walk to take photos. Today was going to be good. I could feel it. The sun was shining, my camera was charged, and tranquillity and beautiful surroundings awaited me. Yes, today was going to be fabulous.

Bending over in the foyer of our hotel, I was retying my shoelace when I felt hands lightly grasp my hips and a body gently press against my butt. My ponytail whooshed as my head whipped around at the intrusion, only to find Josh inappropriately positioning himself behind me.

Relief. Yeah, strangely enough, I was relieved it was him. Go figure.

I raised a questioning eyebrow and tried to lower my butt to the ground. “Do you mind?”

He held me tighter. “Just helping, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you to fall and injure that pretty little arse of yours.” His fingers flexed and moved across my shorts. “You have barely any muscle tone, you know. How often do you work out?”

I swatted his hands away. “I don’t. I walk when I’m shooting locations, but that’s about it.” Quickly looping my laces and pulling taut, I finished my bunny-ears shoelace-bow and stood up, stepping out of his grip. “In fact, I’m about to go do that right now.”

He shook his head, his smile large. “No, you’re not.”

“I beg your pardon?” My hand found my hip, and a what-shit-have-you-been-smoking expression lit my face.

“You’re not walking—
we’re
going riding instead!”

“Riding?”

“Yeah, bike riding. I’m going to hire a bike and ride along the lake. Seeing as you’re going that way too and need to work on your muscle tone, you’re gonna come with me.”

My shoulders wracked with laughter. “Oh no I’m not! I haven’t ridden a bike since I was a kid.”

“It’s easy. It’s just like riding a bike.” He winked, picked up my backpack and flung it over his shoulder before walking off.

“Josh, come back here!”

“Hurry up, sweetheart. We ain’t got all day.”

Actually, we did. As far as I knew, neither of us was scheduled to be anywhere but where we wanted to be. It was such a nice feeling.

Groaning, I jogged after Josh, clasping my backpack and tugging. “No! I’m not riding a bike around the lake. I’m walking.”

“Wrong answer—you’re riding. Stop being a chicken.
Bok, bok, bok
.” He flapped his arms about like chicken wings.

I tugged my backpack again. “I’m not falling for that. Forget it.”

“
Bok, bok … bok
,” he teased, his
bok
ing dying off when he realised it wasn’t working. Josh then changed tact and pouted—a full-on, fat, pokey-out bottom lip. It was ridiculously cute.
Damn it!

“Nooooo,” I whined, “I can’t. I don’t know how.”

He placed his hands on my shoulders and gave me an encouraging shake. “Yes, you can. Look, I’ll tell you what, you do this with me, and I’ll take you to the Telstra Tower and then out for dinner afterwards.”

I sighed.

“Just friends. Promise. Think of the photo opportunities from that high up.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“I was kinda thinking of going there later anyway, but—”

“Yeah, but not with me,” he interrupted. “Now you get me as well.”

Before I could say yay or nay, he hugged my shoulder to his side and walked us to the concierge.

Shit! I’m going bike riding.

***

Bikes and I don’t match. In fact, bikes and I hate each other. Balancing on two wheels at a speed faster than walking pace when you haven’t done so for more than ten years wasn’t such a good idea. Not a good idea at all.

“Sorry,” I said apologetically to a power-walker as she dodged my stupid bike. “Oooh, look out! Shit. Sorry,” I voiced again, my apologies coming thick and fast, as I rode past pedestrians on the path around the lake.

“Corinne, stay to the right,” Josh called out, glancing back at me from his position up ahead.

“I’m trying. This is the worst idea ever.” And it was. I wasn’t cut out for this shit.

“You’re fine. Just watch where you’re going.”
Easier said than done, arse-wipe.

“I want to stop and take a picture of the Captain Cook Memorial Jet,” I shouted, wobbling as I turned my head to the right while admiring the waterspout that soared into the air, the rainbow spectrum of light it created, just beautiful. “Oh, Josh, look at the rainbow. Isn’t it pretty?” My bike wobbled a little more. “Whoa!”

“Watch out!”

Hearing the shriek ahead of me, my head straightened just in time to see an old man and his dog in my direct path. “Shit!” I turned sharply to avoid them and crashed into the embankment, falling sideways off my bike and into some grass.

“Fuck. Corinne, are you okay?”

Ouch. Pain. Mortification.
Um … yeah, I’m okay.

Before I could answer the untruth of the situation by saying ‘All good. I could do that again with my eyes closed’, Josh was pulling to a halt next to me, jumping off his bike and lifting mine, which had landed on top of my legs.

I laughed, feeling like such an idiot. “Thanks.”

“What happened?” He placed my bike beside his.

“I nearly killed an old man and his dog. I didn’t want to be responsible for their demise. That shit is not good for your conscience.”

“So you thought you’d try and kill yourself instead?” he asked, sitting down beside me.

“Well, yeah, kind of.” I winced, a tinge of pain and embarrassment washing over me.

Josh leaned in and gently inspected my leg. “You’re bleeding.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I waved my hand and dismissed the crimson slowly trickling down my shin as if it were raindrops.
Yes, it’s raindrops. Not blood. Not red leaky blood.

Quickly reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a tissue and blotted the scraped skin. The tissue reddened, and I all of a sudden felt light-headed. Blood and I were also
not
friends. Sworn enemies, actually.

“You alright?”

“Sure,” I said, breathing heavily, or more accurately, resembling a puffer fish. “I just don’t … like … ” I laid myself back on the grass and draped my arm across my eyes. “ … blood.”

He laughed. “Drama queen. Here, let me.” Josh lifted my leg, placed my foot on his chest, and held the tissue to my knee.

“I’m sorry,” I groaned. “It’s fine. Just give me a minute. I’m all good.”
I wasn’t. I was fucked.

He bent my knee.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry.”

I then felt soft warm lips touch my calf, prompting me to lift my arm from over my eyes. “Don’t,” I murmured, unable to fight him off.

“I’m helping you feel better.” He pressed another kiss to my leg, this time closer to the crook of my knee.
Oh my!

My arm fell limp.

My body shuddered.

I’m so dizzy. And I’m not sure if it’s from the blood or the feel of his lips and hands on me. Surely, it’s gotta be the blood.

“I’m woozy,” I slurred.

Warm hands palmed the sides of my thigh. “Just breathe and relax. Take slow, deep breaths.”

“You’re not helping,” I mumbled, lifting my arm again and peeking at him.

His eyes were soft, his smile warm. He pulled the tissue away and scrunched it up, placing it in his pocket. “Sure I am; you’ve stopped bleeding. It’s just a small scrape.” Josh licked his thumb and then pressed it just under my cut.

I rose to my elbows and watched breathlessly as he wiped the area clean.
Holy fuck!

His cocky eyes pierced mine. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

“I’m trying,” I whispered.

Still piercing me with a look of arrogant hunger, he placed my leg down and crawled above my body, hovering for a second as anticipation took hold. Our eyes were darting, seeking … asking. They were performing a dance of the desired unknown—a choreographed inquisition. A short sharp breath, a lowering of his body, and his lips were on mine. I let him when I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve said no and protected my heart. But I let him. I let him take that moment of doubt and transform it into need. I let him overpower my inhibition and gift me what I craved.

Relaxing my arms, I fell flat on my back and lifted them to his head where they settled on the nape of his neck. Josh’s tongue gently stroked mine, sending me spiralling into a blissful dizziness. His fingertips crept across my hair, skin, nipples and, again, blissful dizziness increased. They trailed delicately and teasingly, until they tensed and bit hastily into my clothing as our kiss deepened with need.
Oh my God, the man could kiss.
There was not one part of him that wasn’t busy exploring my body, his eyes, tongue and hands all caressing with such tenderness.

I was officially at the pinnacle of dizzy, not to mention wounded and kissing Josh in a public place.

Bike riding sucked. Bike riding was bad.

“We need to stop,” I breathed out, my voice barely audible.

His teeth gently clamped down on my bottom lip, holding it for a couple of seconds before letting it go. “What if I don’t want to?”

“Josh. Please. Not here. It’s inappropriate.”

“Sweetheart, I thought we established that I’m all for inappropriate.”

I laughed and pushed his chest away from mine. “You can say that again.”

“Sweetheart, I thought we estab—“

This time I shoved him off me and sat up. “Smartarse.”

“Fine.” Josh jumped up and brushed his shorts down. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Your room or mine?” He extended his hand.

Placing mine in his, I let him pull me flush to his chest. “Neither.”

“You have somewhere else in mind?” His eyes sparkled, and if he owned a devil’s tail, no doubt it would’ve swished.

“I’m not going to sleep with you. I told you, I don’t fuck around.”

His eye twitched.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it. I value myself enough to want the real thing.”

“I’ll make it real. They’ll be no faking. I promise.”

Searching his eyes, I was starting to sense that when he didn’t get the answer he wanted, he diverted the conversation toward a joke. Maybe this was a defence mechanism of his, or maybe he really was just a big child. Either way, I closed my eyes just briefly and reopened them, straightening my posture.

“No sex. Just bike ride. Photos. Dinner. Let’s do this.” I let go of his hands and picked up my bike, ready for round two of Dodge the Pedestrian.

***

We rode a five kilometre circuit of the lake, from Kings Avenue Bridge to Commonwealth Avenue Bridge, stopping to take pictures of Questacon, the High Court building and the National Carillon. It was a beautiful ride, and as Josh had said at the hotel—and after a few initial hiccups—it was ‘just like riding a bike’. I enjoyed it so much that I was now considering buying one when I returned home so that I could go for a ride along The Esplanade.

Bikes are good, not bad.

“So, do you want to ride up Black Mountain to the tower?” Josh asked, as we pulled up at the hotel.