I nod.
He reaches out with one big hand and strokes my cheek and then his hand is gently around the back of my neck and he’s leaning towards me. His fingers are so soft, and his mouth is close to mine, but he’s hesitating.
‘Just kiss me,’ I say.
And he is kissing me and it’s like I’ve never been kissed before, I haven’t been kissed for so long. It’s wonderful, this beautiful man, holding me, taking care of me and I shift and suddenly we’re jammed close together. He gently angles me so that I’m sitting on his lap and my arms are around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair, his arms wrapped around me.
‘Oh Sid,’ he says. ‘We can’t rush this, I don’t want to rush this.’
He’s kissing near my ear now. His lips soft around my neck, nibbling, and I’m arching my head backwards, as his mouth moves down towards my throat, lazily kissing my collar bone. And his hand is stroking my shoulder which is suddenly the most erogenous spot in the world. His fingers are soft on my body.
‘I’ve been hurt,’ I say, ‘long ago and I haven’t done this for so long, but I want to, I want to do it now with you.’
He moves away, slowly.
‘Was it Marc?’
‘Marc and I were friends,’ I say, ‘we ran away together, it’s that simple. He was my boyfriend for a time but I wasn’t really ready, and we just stayed with each other out of habit. By then it was easier to let everyone think we were together, but we weren’t. We were like brother and sister.’
‘You ran away? But you love your home,’ he says, confused. ‘Who hurt you, my darling Sid, what did they do?’
‘No.’ I put a finger against his lips. ‘No. That was then and this is now. I let that define me for so long, not anymore. You’ve smoothed away the hurt piece.’
And I climb off him and take his hand and he gets up off the couch.
‘Come on, we’ll go into my bedroom.’
It’s sort of girlish, a bit like the bedroom I used to live in at Rivendell.
‘Marc never slept in here with me after the first few months, because he had his own bedroom, where he had all his superhero stuff and his TV for the computer games he used to play. Whenever Vilma came up, she’d sleep on the couch and I’d say that Marc snored so much he had to have his own bedroom, it was the only way. And she believed me, poor darling. I owe it to her to tell her, but not now.’
The room is smaller with Finn inside it. He fills the space.
‘Say no at any point,’ he tells me. ‘Understand?’
‘You don’t want to do this?’ I say, suddenly vulnerable.
‘Oh no.’ His eyes are dark with desire. ‘I want to do this, I think I’ve wanted to do this since the day we went hiking and you asked me what I had in my rucksack and I just loved you then. You’re so funny and clever and beautiful and spiky, like the hedgehog pet you told me about. A little bit bristly but soft. And lovely when one opens up to you.’
‘You don’t get to give me a nickname now, I’m not going to be hedgehog.’
‘Oh no, you are going to be my own beautiful Sid.’ And then he bends down and wraps his arms around me and carries me over to my own bed.
I wake up later in the afternoon to this incredible feeling of another naked body warm beside mine and it’s glorious. I move, feeling the softness of the sheets, the comfort of the bed, the smoothness of the skin, warmness spooned against me and then one big arm reaches round and tucks me in closer. I feel his face burrowing into the soft place behind my ear and he’s whispering. ‘Good afternoon, gorgeous.’
‘Good afternoon, gorgeous yourself,’ I say, ‘this is a lovely way to wake up.’
‘We could wake up this way all the time,’ says Finn. And I can feel the smile in his voice, so I wriggle onto my back and turn to face him. He’s supporting his head on one big hand, leaning on his elbow, and I reach up and kiss him and then suddenly I’m lying on top of him and his arms are around me. And I feel so happy.
‘Would you like some Saturday very late brunch, madam, or slow, passionate love?’ He reaches up and sucks one of my breasts and I arch my back against the exquisite sensation of it.
‘Brunch can wait.’
‘Perfect,’ he murmurs, taking his mouth off my nipple for one brief moment. ‘That’s the answer I was hoping for.’
An hour later, I feel heavy limbed and indolent. But Finn gets out of bed and says, ‘I have to cook for you. I’m not a cook by any means but I’ve become competent at morning stuff like pancakes.’
‘Really? I know you’re very good at other things,’ I say.
