Riding on Air (15 page)

“Hey girls,” William said, causing my stomach to do another slow roll. He was so gorgeous and so cool. I couldn't believe he was here to see me. My brain was having trouble catching up—struggling with the transition from wishful thinking to wish fulfilment.

“Hi beautiful,” he said, deep blue eyes practically piercing me to the heart. Forget embarrassment or stomach acrobatics, I was filled with such a rush of amazed happiness I lost all sensation in my legs.

“Hi,” I croaked, dimly aware that Tash was still sniggering.

William walked right up to me and slid his arm around my waist, as daredevil as you please, either not noticing that my friends were goggling at him like green horses faced with a goat for the first time or not caring enough to worry about it. Astonishment and admiration swarmed over me in almost equal measure. Just what had I done to deserve this?

I didn't have the words to express how much he moved me and even if I did find them, I'd have been too tongue-tied in front of the girls to say it. If only I had some of his amazing self-confidence. I did have the capacity to lean into him though and his arm tightened around my back, his hand sliding up and down my ribs briefly before settling on my waist.

“Coming, Melissa?” Tash asked innocently.

“In a bit,” I said, still too overwhelmed to manage anything more than simple words.

“I'll call you tonight to organise a time for riding Jinx,” Eleni said and I felt William's attention shift from me to Eleni.

“What's this?” he said. “You're riding Jinx?”

“Um, yeah,” Eleni said briefly, catching the warning glare I aimed at her. I swivelled my gaze and shot an even fiercer look at Tash, a look that threatened death and destruction if she blabbed to William about the state of my hands or my inability to manage Jinx today. Tash lifted her palms in a gesture indicating she'd never do such a thing and I scowled at her for the lie.

“Eleni's going to come and ride Jinx for me so I can see how he's going in some lateral movements,” I said to William, anxiety for once lending eloquence to my brain and my tongue rather than turning the one to mush and the other to a useless lump.

“I didn't think anyone was allowed to ride Jinx but you.”

“Nah, we swap horses all the time,” I said.

“Not what your stepbrothers say.”

“I'm not about to let those stick-wielding clowns loose on my dressage horse,” I said indignantly and didn't have to see Eleni's wince to realise I'd put my foot in it. Scalding embarrassment lit my skin and roiled in the depths of my stomach.

“I didn't mean you,” I said desperately, mortified.

William looked down into my face and laughed, giving me a squeeze around the ribs.

“I know, don't get your knickers in a twist.”

Tash let out a bark of laughter and made a lame job of turning it into a cough.

“Gotta go,” she grunted and turned away, her narrow shoulders shaking with what was surely a fit of Tash giggles.

I stood with William, shocked that there was actually a state of acute embarrassment that exceeded mortification. I wasn't stupid, I knew exactly what had given Tash the giggles—the idea of me and knickers and William—but I didn't actually find it funny. Sleep-stealing, daydream-making, another cause for that sickening, lurching see-saw from delight to despair, yes. But not funny. I hadn't been going out with William for long but already my body was acting in weird ways. Nerves I'd never known I had sent weird signals from even weirder places. And because I wasn't an idiot, I had a pretty good idea that it was all hormone related.

I was going to kill Tash for making fun of that. For making fun of me.

William absently ran his fingers lightly up and down my arm, tracing a path from the base of my thumb to the crease on the inside of my elbow and back again, until I thought I was going to lose my tiny mind and fall screaming and twitching to the floor.

On the TV screen across the family room from us, camo-clad soldiers leapt out of a helicopter, apparently utterly captivating William, but the minute he'd tucked me in beside him on the lounge I'd lost track of anything besides his presence.

How could he sit there so totally entranced by this shoot-em-up-saga when I was sitting here beside him, acutely aware of every little thing about him? I knew how many breaths he took in a minute, I knew every time he stretched those impossibly long legs or shifted his weight in the squashy embrace of the couch. I'd noticed how dark his eyelashes looked against his cheek when he blinked and seen that in profile he had a bump on the bridge of his nose, which I wondered how he'd got. With my shoulder tucked in beneath his, I could feel the steady thump of his heart against my ribs and I wondered if it always beat at that speed or if maybe, just maybe, it was racing that little bit because I was here with him.

Mostly, I couldn't stop thinking about kissing him and that continual stroking against my arm was sending almost painful spikes of sensation through my skin, through my blood and nerves, setting off flares of longing and urgency in my stomach and thighs, and yes, burn me though it did to acknowledge it, in my breasts and even between my legs. I had to fight the constant urge to wriggle, to hitch my hips this way or that to stop that weird, aching, almost
wanting
sensation down there. Or maybe not exactly stop, just, more like, change to something a little less alarming.

It was strange but not exactly unpleasant. Unfortunately, all that weird activity was making me horribly conscious of all the ginger beer I'd drunk earlier and that my bladder was starting to bother me a little; just a little advance bulletin regarding upcoming needs, thank you very much.

I looked away from William's absorbed profile and down at my arms, resting on a big cushion in my lap. One of William's arms was there too, angled across the pillow so he could drive me bat crackers with that incessant, mindless stroking.

I wanted to get up and go to the bathroom. I wanted some of the potato chips sitting on the coffee table in front of us, out of my reach unless I moved and dislodged William. I wanted him to look at me and lean over to kiss me.

I wanted, I wanted, I wanted. I don't think I've ever been more conflicted in my life.

And just like that, I went from confused to cranky. How dare he be so absorbed in the stupid bloody movie when I was sitting here beside him in my brand new, darkest indigo jeans and a turquoise tee that Tash swore made my eyes intense and sexy. So much for
her
advice. Obviously exactly what you put into the jeans and the sexy-eyes tee mattered a lot more than Tash realised.

Irritably, I hitched my hip sideways, trying to ease the spreading numbness in my butt. I'd been sitting still too long, petrified of moving and disturbing my stupid boyfriend while he watched his stupid movie. And it hadn't mattered; William just kept looking at the screen and his hand just kept sliding up and down my arm. Stuff it, then, I was going to go for the chips. Who cared if I got fat? William obviously wouldn't even notice.

I sat up, scooting my backside forward to lever myself from the depths of the lounge, and William's fingers slid from my arm and brushed the side of my breast. I froze, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end, the skin of my breast pulling taut, nipple pinching painfully, like when I stripped off in my bedroom on a frosty-cold winter evening. My heart crashed against my ribs as I wondered frantically how I should react and whether he'd meant it—

“Hell, sorry,” he mumbled, which answered that. “I didn't mean to do that. I—you must think I'm trying it on.”

“I don't,” I murmured. Didn't he want to touch me? Were all the whisperings and warnings about what guys wanted crap, or did he just not want
me
?

“I don't want to rush this,” William said and I darted a glance at him. Something in the tone of his voice sent a shiver along my skin.

“I didn't think you were,” I said.

“I hope not.” He paused and I felt the feathery touch of his fingers brush my arm again, so light I might have thought I imagined it except for the spinning stab of delight that shot straight from my arm to my belly. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“Oh,” I said, all that deliciously scary zinging energy snapping out with a dull deflating thud. Here it comes. I knew it.

I looked down at my twisted hands, resting on their protective pillow, and it was just too much. I dug my fingers into the pillow, ignoring the startled flare of pain in my joints, and flung it off me, furiously disappointed. The pillow flipped clumsily across the coffee table and thumped softly into the TV screen.

“What the hell—? Your hands.”

“I'm fine,” I ground out.

“But that must have hurt.”

“Don't worry, it wasn't you. You didn't hurt me,” I said pointedly and William's confused expression changed rapidly to one of enlightenment.

“Hey, I didn't mean that.”

“Then what did you mean? Why does everything have to be about my stupid hands?”

William ran a hand agitatedly through his hair. I saw with some amazement that his hands, those strong beautiful hands I admired so much, were shaking. “Believe me, I think about other parts of you than your hands. Even though I shouldn't.”

My heart just about stopped.

“Like what?” I asked him, heart now beating madly in my chest. I shifted on the couch so I was facing more towards him, wanting to see the look in his eyes when he answered me.

“What do you think?” he said. “These,” and he brushed the back of his hand over my breasts. I gasped and he looked at me intently, holding my gaze with his. “And this,” he added as he ran his thumb over my lips, “and this and this.” He ran his hand up my thigh and, on the final ‘this', reached his hand around and planted it against my butt, scooping me towards him.

My heart skittered madly now and the one word that bounced around my brain was a jubilant yes! Yes and yes and yes! He did want me. Despite all my fears and doubts, he did want me.

I reached with both hands and cupped his face in my palms, curling my aching fingers lightly around his jaw and finally got the word out. “Yes,” I murmured, bold enough to meet his gaze now I had the answers I'd craved. “I want you too,” I added, because he sat there staring at me as though he hadn't heard. Then I did what I'd wanted to do throughout the boring army-fatigues blur of the movie I hadn't even wanted to watch. I drew his face towards mine and met his mouth with my own.

Into that kiss I guess I poured all my pent up frustration, all the longing I'd felt not just while I sat beside him that night but over the months I'd so relentlessly beaten down my feelings for him, convinced it was hopeless.

William made a thick, not-quite-a-word sound and then he kissed me back with a passion and enthusiasm I definitely hadn't conjured even in my most desperate and daring daydreams. He pressed against me urgently, his long body warm and solid, his weight bearing me back into the springy depths of the couch. I sank beneath him, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck, plunging the fingers of my good hand into his hair. Oh, I'd wanted to do that for so long and the warm silkiness of it at last between my fingers was worth the creaking protest in my joints.

William, with his strong healthy hands, seemed to have been freed by my words for those hands were all over me. His palm slid over my breast, his fingers traced my collarbone, the heel of his hand briefly pressed against my hipbone. It was like he was learning me with his hands and I understood the urge. In my limited capacity I was doing the same to him.

We sprawled tangled together on the lounge and kissed and touched. A blissed-out, dreamy sensation gradually swept away my ability to think, breaking down sentences into irrelevant syllables and words with every touch of his hand, or change in pressure from his mouth on mine, or the pressure of his lips nibbling over my jaw and kissing shivers onto my neck, until all I could think was yes.
Oh
yes.

It's a really slow process when you're trying to saddle up your horse and your boyfriend keeps putting his hands on you, turning your body to his so he can slide his hands down your back and tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you. Kiss you a lot.

Not that I minded any of that, but Jinx's patience was definitely wearing out. He stood with his ears flopped backwards, lips pressed together, his expression a little sour. Some might say mulish. It was about as grumpy as he ever got, so I wriggled free from William with reluctance, but also a resolve to get on with things. I might have a boyfriend now (a boyfriend!) but I was determined not to be one of those girls who neglects her horse because she's got a guy in her life.

I was a little worried, too, that someone might catch us messing about. Saturday afternoon meant everyone was at home and the boys were both around the farm somewhere. I'd last seen Jennie in the kitchen, but she could be just about anywhere. As I settled the saddle blanket on Jinx's glossy back, my brain dredged up the thought that I hadn't been so worried about who might see us last night as we made out like crazy on the lounge. Funny, as I didn't think my brain had actually been there at that point. I thought it had sort of blinked out. It was a memory that today was both a delicious moment of recall and a little bit scary.

William stepped up beside me with my saddle and settled it onto the blanket on Jinx's back. He gave my cheek a sliding caress (and me the shivers) before moving around my grumpy horse to let the girth and stirrup down for me, smiling across Jinx at me the whole time.

We hadn't had sex. We hadn't even come close really—after all, we were in the family room of my parents' house and there were still a few doubts circling in my mind. Eventually my full bladder had dragged me back to boring reality and the urgent press of other basic needs. But today there was this odd looseness between us. An ease in the way our bodies interacted that I definitely noticed and I suspected William did too. I'd never known that kind of connection and body awareness with a person before, only with Jinx. And it was
very
different with William.