This was an entirely different way of doing things than he was used to; this seemed full, rich, fertile and bursting; this seemed like one of those life-defining moments where a decision was made; this felt to him like more than kissing his neighbour. This was big.
He could bear it no more. He had to feel her lips on his, just taste them and then pull back, that was the plan. He didn’t want to suddenly be swishing pasta bowls off the table – well of course he did, really did – but this was too momentous, this he wanted to secure every step of the way. He had scared her before; he wasn’t repeating that mistake.
She met him and as their lips touched he felt the frissons shoot through him. What was supposed to be a simple kiss became much more intense; he had felt her shudder as their mouths initially touched and he needed to feel more. He pulled her closer still as the kiss became deeper and deeper and one hand travelled up to support her head, the other resting in the small of her back, to protect her, to hold her there. She was matching him depth for depth, no hesitancy, no holding back, she wanted him as badly as he wanted her, she was moving from responsive to more aggressive as the heat he was feeling was clearly consuming her too.
He was almost too scared to stop; he didn’t want that second to happen when his mouth left hers, when they were separate, even if it were just for a moment. He didn’t want any chance of sanity – hers – kicking in and making her stop. He wasn’t sure what had been holding her back before, but he had known something had, confirmed on Sunday, but whatever it was, she had given it up now.
He hitched her up onto the table, hands wandering, taking in her whole body. A body that was leaning in to him, encouraging him to go further, to feel more, and he didn’t think he was going to be able not to. He wanted to lose himself, he wanted to make her feel the depth of what he was feeling, he wanted her to gasp, to scream with pleasure.
Her hands were also frantic, pulling at his shoulders, up and down his back. He could just lose himself here forever.
But no, as strong as his desire was, and it was, he needed to check properly. He wanted to hear her give her consent. He wanted it made as clear as could be – this could not be a crazed bulldozing of lust, this had to be more.
Matt pulled himself away, hands still on her waist as he took a breath and forced her to as well.
‘Rosy?’ He was scared to ask. Scared her answer would be no, petrified her answer would be a yes, for he knew this was a Pandora’s box, one he wouldn’t ever want to close. He had never given anyone such power over his emotions before and he was alternating between trepidation and that feeling of never-so-sure-of-anything-in-his-life. It all hung on her.
Her lips were swollen, her pupils huge as she gazed back up at him, and nodded.
As he felt the smile take over his face, she arched up and pulled him back down. This was really happening; this woman was amazing in so many different ways. He knew, at this moment there was no doubt in his mind, this woman was the one he was meant to find.
He closed his eyes and leaned in, happy, renouncing his fears and committing in this one movement to all the future had to hold as he felt her kiss imbue his whole being. Then he heard a car door slam.
Chapter Twenty
Rosy felt Matt tense above her and heard an engine starting and moving away. She froze as the sounds of stumbling up next door’s path followed. There was no mistaking it – with her cottage out on the edge of the village with very little traffic or street noise, she was attuned to everything.
It had to be Angelina and Marion, and if it were Marion… oh dear God! The realization of what she had just done – and she wasn’t sure how she had got there, but she knew she had been very, very willing – hit home. This could be around the village in seconds! Penmenna was speedier than Twitter when it came to the spreading of news.
Aghast, she looked up at Matt and pushed him off. She needed to get him out and home before Angelina noticed he was missing and Marion worked out that her headteacher was spending a Thursday night practically straddling her neighbour.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Too late! They were at her door. How could either woman think this was OK? Neither had ever felt the need to visit before! She stood stock-still.
She heard Matt muttering at her, but could do nothing but stare at him blankly.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
‘Look, we’d better let them in before they wake up the whole of Penmenna. Rosy, Rosy, are you OK?’
Rosy shook her head (less as a negative response, more a clearing of fug), came out of her catatonic state and launched herself towards the front door.
Marion clattered through into the house, bringing Angelina with her and shrieking in tongues. Well, middle-aged, middle-class drunkenness, but it sounded like much of a muchness. So much so that neither stopped their braying to greet either Rosy or her guest.
She looked across to Matt to catch and assess any expressions on his face. How he behaved here would be key. Suddenly he had gone from being knee-shakingly tempting to possessing the power to shape how the village viewed her. A familiar feeling quickly swooshed through Rosy’s stomach, only this time it wasn’t based upon desire. She felt sick. Her breath was deep and rapid and her heart was beating so loud and fast it was bound to explode out of her chest any minute now.
Head in the game! She needed to focus herself, and quickly.
A quick glance at Marion saw her teeter on her heels and grab onto Angelina, both still cackling, interspersing it with a stream of babble so loud and incoherent – like a fairground, blare jarring against blare – that she began to wonder if she could get away with this. Could they not have noticed? Could she be free and clear if she just got them out? What about Matt, could she persuade him to keep quiet?
She glanced around: no obvious clues to what had happened, just two settings for supper and a couple of half-eaten bowls of pasta, innocent enough. She turned to Matt and as she studied him assessingly he smiled at her, all reassuring and affectionate and so tummy-flippingly sexy. Damn him! Lust almost replaced fear, curling up from the tips of her toes and whooshing all the way through her, the two combined emotions making her feel weak. Literally dizzy.
She scowled at him. How brazen could a person be? Smiling as if nothing had happened. As if they hadn’t just been about to make love on her dining table. On her dining table! Still, that was exactly what had happened and for now her best plan was to smile, say nothing and guide them all towards the door, whilst praying he had the wit to keep his mouth shut.
She forced her brain to try and take control of her physical responses, which were clearly not to be trusted. But her brain was struggling; all it could tell her was that regardless of what happened here, it was a lose-lose situation for her. If Matt told the world, or even just his sister, she’d be straight back to where she was ten years ago – all her hard work forgotten – under the microscope and judged for her choices. Arrgggh! She suddenly fully understood what people meant when they said they wished the ground would open up beneath them. If only life were that merciful.
She sent another scowl at Matt, just to make sure he got the message to keep schtum.
