Unstitched (9 page)

Swapping smiles and small-talk, we ate with our fingers.

I finished my mouthful and grinned. ‘What did you want to be when you grew up?’

Anthea shrugged. ‘Geez, tough question. I don’t know. I was always one of those kids who never knew what they wanted to be. Even now, I don’t know what I want to do.’

‘But you’re in P.R.’

She shrugged. ‘Yeah, I am. I’m just kinda doing it because that’s what I fell into after uni.’

‘You like it though?’

She nodded. ‘Yeah. I like it. What about you? What did you want to be?’

I shrugged. ‘Maybe a builder.’

‘Ah, the dream of many young boys,’ Anthea said.

I laughed. ‘Yeah.’

‘Why a builder?’

‘My father.’ Unexpected sadness pressed upon my heart mentioning him — heavy. ‘He would take me onto building sites when I was young. It amazed me how all these people could create such incredible structures out of what was essentially dirt and rubble.’

‘Why didn’t you pursue that path?’

‘I fell in love.’

Anthea frowned and looked away. ‘Right.’

I laughed. ‘I fell in love with music, Anthy. It’s in my veins. I couldn’t avoid the inevitable.’

Her cheeks reddened¸ which made me laugh even louder. ‘I love your reactions.’

‘I’ve noticed. Glad I can provide you with comic relief.’

I reached for her hand and thread our fingers. Her skin was warm and soft. ‘Your reactions are honest. You can’t hide them behind words, and that’s what I like. I get to see the real you.’ I leant closer and kissed her. My lips still brushing against her warm, sweet lips, I whispered, ‘I want to know every last part of you.’ And I meant it. Every last inch.

She breathed in deeply and caught my lips between hers. I had to take it slow with Anthea — some part of her was vulnerable. But she felt so good. Her tongue found mine, eager, and slid warm into my mouth. Oh, hell, she tasted good, too. I wrapped my arms around her, drawing her closer. She sighed softly against my mouth and my cock swelled tight with pleasure. How easy she could do that to me — affect me physically, reach me on the inside. I fisted my hand in her long, silky hair and deepened our kiss, lost. Surely no harm ever came from kissing.

***

Anthea

Too soon Lucas broke away and I was bereft without his hands on me. How could a man make me feel this way? I was buzzing, white-hot, and so fucking horny. I wanted to rip my knickers off, climb onto him and lower myself onto his hard, hot…

Oh, my God. I never think like this
.

I needed to cool down. I looked away from those eyes that drew me to him, made me think wicked thoughts, and, instead, gazed out over the ocean, watching waves form and grow until they rolled and crashed against the wet sand.

‘Do you want to go for a swim?’ he asked.

I turned to him with eyebrows arching high. ‘But it’s winter.’

He shrugged.

‘Maybe we can just dip our toes in.’

We strode down the salt-faded timber stairs, flicked off our shoes, and tramped across the hot sand. A sharp breeze lashed at our feet and blew my sundress around my ankles. Yellow sand faded to beige where the tide had soaked the shoreline before retreating back to the ocean. I shivered as a long wave swirled up to meet our feet.

Lucas grinned. ‘It’s not too bad.’

I scoffed. ‘Says the Victorian.’

He laughed loudly and threw his shirt over his head.

Holy fucking hell
. He was stunning — his cocoa skin almost glowed under the sunlight. In addition to the full left sleeve of tattoos he had strange symbols engraved on his pecs and a dragon on his right shoulder. I had to look away and take a deep breath.

‘Coming in?’ he asked.

I shook my head.

‘Would you mind holding my things for me while I take a quick dip?’

Words were difficult to form. ‘Um. Sure.’

I struggled to keep my eyes on his as I took his shirt, keys and wallet, but the need to stray to his biceps and those broad, ripped shoulders was too strong. His perfectly toned, tanned chest, the lumps and bumps of his stomach and that sexy-as-fuck V pointing down to his…
Oh God
,
Anthy. Look up
.

Lucas was grinning when I found his face again. My tongue darted out to wet my lips.

‘I won’t be long,’ he said, pecked my cheek and ran towards the ocean. His back thieved my attention: it was covered in a black-and-white, full back tattoo of strange creatures. He was the sexiest walking art show I’d ever seen. Long legs bounded over the waves, muscles tensing and bulging, until he was waist deep and dived headfirst into the water.

I sat down a little further up the beach on the dry sand. My erratic hormones were tempting me to strip down, slink in after him and smooth my hands over every inked inch of his body and then some. But I knew rationality would override as I soon as I hit the crisp water. Besides, it was quite a show just watching him.

Only a few minutes in the ocean and he swam back towards the shore. When shallow enough, he stood, stamping over the waves. Dressed only in a pair of white board shorts, his golden skin glistened. Beads of water dripped from his hair and down his rippling body. My jaw hung loose, hinges no longer working.

Absolutely gorgeous
.

I wiped at the corners of my mouth, checking for drool. I was dry — well my mouth was. As for other parts of my anatomy…

I stood and brushed the sand from my dress and legs, while Lucas hurried towards me.

What was he doing?

He grinned — white teeth and two generous dimples — and jogged to me. My heart sprinted. I spun away to run, but he threw his arms around my waist and pulled me against his cold wet flesh. I screamed and giggled. He was ice against my sun-drenched skin. I wiggled, tried to wrench free, but he playfully held me tighter and his laugh vibrated loud and deep in his chest.

‘What’s the matter, Anthy? You don’t want a cuddle?’

I shook my head. ‘You’re freezing!’ My legs were weak from laughter, which wasn’t helping my cause. He loosened his grip and I made a break for it running across the warm grainy sand.

I turned back to face him. He smiled and spread his long toned arms wide, his muscled chest rippling. ‘Come here. Give me a hug.’

‘Ask me again when you’re dry.’

He winked and flashed his dimples again. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

You better.

***

The sky was fading to pink and the breeze pricked our flesh like icy needles by the time we arrived back at my apartment building. Lucas walked me through the foyer to the lifts.

‘I had a great time today,’ he said.

‘Me too.’

‘Please join me for dinner tomorrow night?’

I smiled. ‘Tomorrow?’

He nodded. ‘At my house. I’ll cook.’

‘How could I say no to that?’

He grinned wide. ‘I’ll pick you up here at seven?’

‘Okay.’

He reached for me, stroked his thumb along my cheek and smoothed a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘You’re so damn beautiful, Anthy.’

I parted my lips to thank him, but his mouth slanted over mine, silencing me. My eyes closed as his lips moved with mine. He tasted like salt and smelled like sunshine — a heady combination. Lust shook through me as he penetrated my mouth with his tongue. I fisted his hair, still damp from the ocean, and pressed my chest tighter to his warm body. He was molten quicksand and I his willing victim. I sank deeper and deeper into him, unsure if I’d ever return. Unsure if I’d ever want to.

He broke away and I swear there were crackles and sparks around us. My chest was rising and falling sharply, as was his. We just looked at each other, eyes wide, jaws slack. I laughed because my head was deliriously light.

‘How am I going to spend an entire night and day before seeing you again?’

I sobered. I’d not thought of that. I didn’t want to think of that. ‘You can stay the night if you like?’

He grimaced and kicked the toe of his boot against the tiles. ‘We’re recording some tracks tonight and tomorrow. It’s the only time we’ve been able to co-ordinate all band members to be in the one place at the one time.’

I smiled. ‘So I’ll see you tomorrow night then. No biggy.’ Except it was.

He took my hand in his. ‘Thank you for today.’ He kissed my cheek, lingering long enough for my eyes to fall heavily closed. ‘See you,’ he whispered against my ear, hot breath teasing me.

I nodded and watched as he drifted away and our fingertips pulled slowly apart. ‘See you.’

Anthea

I slung my bag tighter over my shoulder and slid into the passenger side of Lucas’s Audi. The scent of lush leather greeted me. Lucas jumped in beside me and smiled. He looked jaw-droppingly good tonight in a pair of black jeans, silver buckled boots and a printed black T so his ink was on show. I was in love with those tattoos.

‘How did you go with the band today?’ I asked.

He grinned wide. ‘We smashed it. Laid down some great tracks.’ He started the engine and the deep growl vibrated through my body. ‘How about you? How was your day?’

Hell.

Time couldn’t move fast enough.

‘It was okay.’

I unslung my bag from my shoulder to rest on the floor at my feet, but my book slid out onto Lucas’s lap. He held it up. ‘
The Time Traveler’s Wife
,’ he said, reading the cover.

I snatched it from him, shoved it back into my bag.

He grinned. ‘Is that in case I bore you tonight?’

‘Of course not. I still have it in there from the other day.’

‘Any good?’

‘It’s one of my favourites. It’s about a man who has a genetic disorder that makes him travel through time. Problem is, he can’t control when it happens.’

Lucas laughed. ‘Interesting choice of book.’

I arched a brow. ‘What, not your type?’

‘Not exactly. I just don’t understand how we’re expected to believe that a genetic disorder forces someone to travel through time without any volition of his own.’ He looked at me and chuckled deeply. ‘Doesn’t that seem a little erroneous? That time travel is somehow based on the genetic makeup of the body, rather than the genetic makeup of the universe.’

‘I didn’t realise you were an expert,’ I teased.

He lowered his eyes to the steering wheel and smiled bashfully. ‘That’s why they call it fiction, right?’

‘Exactly.’

***

My eyes widened as we pulled into the driveway of Lucas’s house: towering, with sleek square lines and huge glass windows spilling yellow light into the night. He parked in the garage, which was almost as big as my entire apartment and we climbed a flight of perforated plate stairs that led into the kitchen. It was breathtaking: recycled timbers, polished cement floors and industrial inspired lights and fittings.

‘Wow. I think I might even enjoy cooking if I had a kitchen like this.’

He smiled. ‘Is that so? I’ll keep that in mind.’

‘I warn against that, unless you like the taste of burnt toast and vegemite.’ I sat on a bar stool, elbows resting on a long stone bench top, while Lucas grabbed a bottle of red from the wine fridge.

He uncorked it, held it up. ‘Would you like a glass?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Now, I haven’t tried this wine before. I bought it online, so I hope it’s good.’

I read the label:
Penfolds Grange
, the year 1980. This wine was older than me.

‘
Penfolds Grange
?’ I asked.

‘You know it?’

‘I know it,’ I said

‘Is it any good? I’m not a big drinker, so I don’t really know.’

‘I’ve
read
good reports.’

He filled two fat wine glasses with the ruby vintage. ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ He raised his glass and chimed it against mine. ‘To us.’

‘To us,’ I repeated and took a sip. My mouth watered as I swallowed it down.

‘Good?’ he asked.

‘Amazingly good.’

Lucas drank a mouthful. He smacked his lips, lifted the glass and looked at the contents. ‘I have to agree.’

I laughed. ‘You act as though you’ve never tasted red wine before.’

‘I haven’t.’

My brow crinkled and eyes narrowed. ‘Really?’

‘Really. As I said, I’m not a drinker.’

‘Well a five-hundred-dollar bottle of vintage is probably a perfect place to start.’

***

Lucas had prepared
paella
for our dinner and the kitchen smelt delicious — of spicy
chorizo
and fragrant stock. He had to add some muscles at the last minute, but it was basically all done.

‘Now if you would like to take that bottle of wine and our glasses outside there,’ he said, pointing to wide-open double doors that led onto a timber deck. ‘I’ll bring everything out.’

‘Are you sure you don’t need any help?’

He shook his head, his dimples flashing. ‘It’s under control.’

The view from the back deck extended forever — perfect glimpses of the glittering city all the way to the Story Bridge and the surrounding suburbs. Lucas had set the table with white linen and shiny tableware. A bundle of thick white candles with wilting masses of wet wax sat in the centre, casting dim flickers of light.

I took a seat. Gentle rock was playing from the surround speakers. Lucas stepped out from the kitchen, sizzling black pan in his hand. The aromas that surrounded me when he placed it in the centre of the table made my stomach growl. Mounds of sticky rice laced with tender seafood, chicken and
chorizo.

He sat across from me and we each dished up our own dinner. I ate a mouthful and groaned.

Lucas’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Good, ha?’

I nodded, still chewing. ‘Oh, yeah. You can cook for me any time you like.’

He laughed and refilled my wine. He raised his glass. ‘Here’s to good food and exceptional company.’

I smiled, chimed my glass against his and took a sip. My attention strayed to his ink: threads of colour snaking from his wrist all the way up under his shirt sleeve.

‘What you lookin’ at?’ he asked.

I found his eyes and grinned. ‘Your tattoos are really sexy.’

He laughed.

‘I didn’t mean to peek yesterday at the beach, but I couldn’t help it.’