I’m going to break and I can’t do it here. ‘Okay. I’m just going to get some air.’
‘Do you want me to come?’ Amanda asks.
‘No, you enjoy the tea.’
Following solar lights down a white, gravel path, I arrive at a fence at the end of the garden. Resting my forearms onto the fence, looking into the vast darkness beyond, I wonder where my dad is, where and what his version of life after death could be. The dam finally disintegrates and silent tears spill down my cheeks.
The cold wind carries the sound of footsteps in the gravel moving closer to me. A blazer is hung around my shoulders. I brush away the tears with the backs of my hands as Gregory leans forwards to rest on the fence beside me.
‘I know it sounds pathetic, but I just feel like so much is changing and I’m struggling to find a foothold. Yesterday, Dad was healthy and happy; today, he’s gone. I’ve found out your father is a complete iniquitous bastard. Sandy’s leaving. And I’ve met this guy and he has my head in such a spin, I can’t think straight but I honestly don’t know if that’s reciprocated.’
Gregory exhales loudly. ‘And here I was thinking I’d never come across a problem I couldn’t fix or at least buy or charm my way out of.’
I shuffle my feet towards him and rest my head on his shoulder. My eyes search the black sky decorated with sparkling crystals.
‘It’s beautiful,’ he says, following my gaze.
‘Have you ever thought that the stars only look so beautiful because the sky is so dark?’
His shoulder rises and falls with his breath. ‘I guess not.’
‘Maybe we’re just like one of those stars, Gregory. Maybe all of those bad things that have happened are the reason we’re standing here right now.’
He pulls me into his chest and rests his chin gently on my head. ‘Jesus, I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Scarlett Heath.’
My arms wrap tightly around his body and pull him closer to me. ‘Thank you for what you did for Sandy. It was sweet of you.’
‘I didn’t do it for Sandy; I did it for you, to stop you worrying about other people.’ He kisses my brow then, leaning back and pulling me towards him by his blazer lapels, he presses his lips to the tip of my nose.
‘Take me home,’ I whisper.
‘Home?’
‘Home for this week.’
He takes my hand and leads me back along the gravel path.
I’m roused in the darkness by the soft tenor notes of a saxophone. Wrapping a silk kimono around me, I follow the sound, pausing at the top of the staircase when I see Gregory in the lounge. Wearing only lounge pants, his perfectly formed torso bare, he stands at the window staring out into the night.
The sound system clicks onto the next John Coltrane track. Gregory continues to watch the city. Lights from high-rise buildings illuminate his body and expose to me for the first time a white scar, healed and aged but permanent, running from close to his spine out to his hip. My perfect Gregory, spoiled.
I want to go to him, to kiss his tarnished skin and tell him he’s safe now. I want him to be free of his demons but I can’t make that happen. Not tonight. I watch him until one more track clicks over on the sound system and I can’t watch my terrorised man any longer. I need to make him forget, the way he can make me leave my mind and thoughts.
He must hear me but he doesn’t turn; he keeps his eyes on the darkness. My hands start at his shoulders and move down the length of his arms as my mouth trails kisses across the width of his back. His body rises and falls with his deep breath and exhale.
Something in him snaps. He turns quickly and lifts me from my feet, charging us back towards the sofa. His irises are black. He’s hurting, lost behind the darkness. This is real. This is his pain. From the way his eyes trail up and down my body and his fingers dig into my flesh, I know this is going to be hard. He needs me, he needs this and I’ll take whatever he needs to lose himself.
He plants me on the floor in front of the sofa and pulls my kimono from my shoulders. His huge erection is ready, hostile, when he yanks down and discards his lounge pants.
He grabs my breasts, too hard, then pulls my nipple with his teeth, pain attacking the end. Pain that’s welcome. Desired. An almost animal growl rumbles from his throat. His hands move to my hips, lifting me and pushing me down to the sofa, then he kneels between my legs. He spreads my knees apart and sucks hard on my clit, causing my hips to thrust back on a medley of bittersweet groans. His fingers drive into me and work roughly, taking me hard and quickly to a clouded mind. I won’t come. This is for him. I want to help him the way he helps me. This is our cure.
He withdraws his fingers and flips me by my hips, pulling my knees to the floor, my back to his chest. He doesn’t speak but moves his mouth to my neck, biting my skin. Reaching back, I dig my nails hard into his bare thighs, dragging a glutaral yet satisfied groan from him.
He leans me forwards and spreads my legs with his knees. I brace my body with my arms on the sofa and try to relax. Despite his urgency, he strokes a hand between my legs to make sure I’m ready to accept him, then he thrusts himself deep inside me on a bark.
The depth of his relentless, powerful drives has me crying out in a frenzy of spine-curling pain and otherworldly pleasure. He continues his thrusts, maintaining momentum. I’m close and as hard as I’m trying not to, I’m going to tip over the edge if he doesn’t end this soon. But my hips are pushing back with my own anger. Anger for the scars on his back and wrists. Anger over his shadows. Rage because his past murdered my dad. This isn’t gentle and caring, it’s ruthless love, and I’m matching him beat for beat.
He grabs my hair in his fist and pulls my head back then wraps an arm around my stomach and pulls my body against his.
