George kissed her hard, as if his life depended on it, which in a way it did. Years of longing gushed through him and exploded into the longest kiss he’dever had.
He could feel her body both soft and firm under him, her breasts inside her shirt pushed against his chest. Uncontrolled, his hands went to press them over the thin cotton, and she moaned again. Urgent heat pulsed in his groin; he wanted to feel her skin everywhere; he grabbed her shirt and dragged it up and overher head.
Full, soft breasts, warm satin skin, nipples hard as pearls under his thumb, sending his blood crashing like a crazy tidal wave throughhis body.
Her hands were in his hair and around his neck. Mouth to mouth again, he moved between her legs, pushing them apart with his hips, and she archedinto him.
The cotton of his shorts and hers was an exquisite torture between them when he moved up and down, rubbing against her, feeling her press upinto him.
Condoms, a faint voice said inside his head. He ignored it.
She is still married, and you have a girlfriend.With a growl, he silenced his conscience and pushed his tongue deep inside her mouth, searching for oblivion. For more, more, more.
The voice nagged.A cheater. like father,like son.
George froze for an instant, and the voice, emboldened, went on.
More, more, more, just like your father. But here? In this of all places?
“What’s wrong?” Millie’s question seemed to come from inside a fog.
George blinked. He was two feet away from her onhis knees.
“George?”
She lifted herself on her elbows. Her hair tangled, face flushed and naked breasts almost broke his will. He picked up her discarded shirt and gave it to her, but she ignored it.
“Please, Millie, if you have a drop of mercy, get dressed,” he said, closing his eyes.You couldn’t even wait a few hours to break up with Beatrice. Just like your father; he could never wait.
“George. Talk to me.” She touched his knee, and he sprang up and turned away from her, walking blindly until he stubbed his toe on the edge of the bathroom door.
“Ow,” he shouted. “Fuck, bugger, bugger, fucking, fuck.” He lifted his foot and held his toes in his hand, leaning on the door frame.
“Are you okay?” She spoke from just behind him.
George flung his hand out to stop her. “Are youdressed?”
“Yes.” Her voice was full ofconfusion.
He opened his eyes and caught sight of her legs. “Not enough.” He needed to break something. He needed to punch and hit and smash, something,anything.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her reach for the blanket.
“Okay, you can look now. I’m like a nun.”
He looked at her covered from head to toe. Even though his heart was full of anger and pain and a million warring sensations, he laughed.
There was a window near. He hopped over and sat on the ledge, his foot on his knee. “Fucking door frame.” He gave her a tight smile. “I think you can lose the blanket. Your clothes should be dry by now.”
Millie opened her mouth, but whatever she saw in his face changed her mind. She went to the bathroom to find her clothes and left him to his darkthoughts.
The voice of his conscience kept rhythm with the throbbing pain.
Really, George? Here, of all places?
On Le Cou?
The home that was your mother’s refuge, a safe haven from a cheating DuMontfort?
