He smiles. ‘I wish we could all have hung out. Fuck, I miss him so much.’ The sight of his sudden agony and his eyes filling with tears has me moving towards him.
I’m not thinking as I wrap my arms around his neck, and he doesn’t hesitate to draw me close. It’s only when our bodies align under the water that I remember just how barely dressed we are. My heart is bouncing off my ribcage as I feel his sleekly muscled body flex and clench against the goosebumps shivering over my skin.
Blood rushes through my ears as he lifts his head to gaze at me, his pupils darkly dilated. One second passes, two and then three, before his mouth slowly comes down to mine in a brief, gentle kiss.
The heat left in the wake of his lips as he pulls back to study me sears through my body. And then I’m very quickly lost to sensation as our mouths reconnect, our tongues gliding together and his grip on me tightening. My legs encircle his waist and his hands hold me in place, warm and strong. He tastes of salt and spearmint and summertime. There’s not a millimetre of space between us and yet it doesn’t feel close enough. Then suddenly he breaks away.
I register the hard press of his erection only after the cold water has flooded the space between my legs.
‘Gah, sorry,’ he mutters.
My ankles are still hooked together around the backs of his thighs and his hands are on my hips, holding me inches away from him. I can feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint.
‘I thought it was too cold for that, but I underestimated my attraction to you,’ he says against my neck.
The sound of his lovely, lilting accent, his rough voice bashfully admitting that he wants me, unleashes something in me.
I strengthen my grip, using my heels to close the space between us, and as our hips reconnect, he loses whatever control he had. Our tongues lock and tangle and I realise that we’ve been moving into shallower waters as waves crashover our legs. Then he’s lowering me onto the sandy shore, and his hard body is coming down over me. We’re a tangle of limbs and lips and grinding hips and, oh shit, there are people on this beach!
Ash seems to remember this at the same time I do, because suddenly he’s lifting himself into a press-up position, bracing himself above me, his biceps bulging. We stare at each other, chests heaving, shell-shocked. His irises are almost entirely black, and I’m guessing my lips look as bee-stung as his do. He rolls away onto the sand beside me, adjusting himself beneath his swimming trunks.
‘Fuuuuccckk,’ he says in a low groan, dragging his hand across his face. His other hand is still trying to hide his considerable length without much success. He casts me a sheepish look. ‘Sorry. It’s been a while.’
I lean in and give him a quick kiss before saying, through a smile, ‘I might go and take a shower.’
‘Okay.’ He sits up. ‘I’ll get dinner sorted.’
There’s hardly anyone left on the beach now and no one is using the showers. I rinse myself off before walking back along the shoreline, trying to collect my scattered thoughts. Going by what’s just happened, I’m not confident I’ll be able to follow my counsellor’s advice about waiting until I’m in a proper relationship before taking things to the next level.
Would it really be so bad if we had sex? Our connection feels different to anything I’ve experienced before. There have been occasions in the past when I’ve clammed up or frozen around guys, but Ash makes me feel safe.
And if we got even closer, maybe I’d have the convictionto stand up to my parents, to keep travelling through Europe. With him.
It occurs to me that I’m depending heavily on someone I’ve only just met to help me rebuild the sense of self I lost after Stella died. I’d hoped travelling on my own would do that, allow me to know my own mind and grow my confidence, but it’s had the opposite effect. I’m disappointed in myself, knowing that without Ash there’s no way I’d even consider defying my mum and dad.
There’s a cool breeze blowing in off the ocean, but there’s still heat to the sun so my skin dries as I walk back to Ash. He’s laid his sleeping bag out on the sand, unzipped like a rug, and the picnic he’s prepared looks incredible. He went to grab some bits from a delicatessen in Sintra while I was at the internet café.
I get dressed again and comb out my hair, my thoughts still swirling.
‘Where did you go?’ Ash asks as I sit down.
From the look of apprehension on his face, I realise that he doesn’t mean geographically.
‘It bothers me that, without you, I wouldn’t feel strong enough to carry on interrailing, or go against my mum and dad,’ I admit quietly.
‘Ellie,’ he murmurs sympathetically, reaching out to take my hand. ‘It’s okay to draw strength from a friend, you know. I used to do it with Taran. I still do it with Beca. Our parents might have raised us and put a roof over our heads, but mine didn’t always make me feel that safe and secure growing up and it sounds as though yours didn’t either?’ He waits forme to nod in agreement before continuing. ‘It helped getting some independence when I went to uni, but you didn’t have that, still living at home.’
‘I feel so trapped at times,’ I admit, and suddenly it’s all spilling out. ‘I want to please them. I want to impress them and make them proud. I went to the school they wanted me to go to, I studied furniture design at the university they wanted me to attend, and soon I’ll take up my place full-time in a business I’ve been involved with part-time for years. And I’m okay with that. It might not be my first choice of career, but I’m a decent designer. I know I’ll make them money. But I just don’t think that anything I do will ever be good enough. They’re always going to want more from me.’
My eyes prick with tears and he lets go of my hand and slides both of his around my waist. I’m pulled into his lap and he wraps his arms around me, holding me close and allowing me to soak up his warmth and the feeling of someone caring enough to try to understand me.
‘I’m sorry it hasn’t been easy for you either,’ I say.
‘My mother’s fine, but my father is complicated. It’s a double-edged sword with him, though, because on the one hand I’m glad he leaves me alone in favour of my brother, but on the other it hurts that he doesn’t even seem to like me.’
I squeeze him hard. ‘Ilike you,’ I whisper against his skin, my lips pressed to his neck. ‘I really,reallylike you.’
‘You have no fucking idea how much I likeyou,’ he replies.
