There was something about the moment that caught Sarah. It had been a long time since they had laughed like that. Despite the ridiculousness of the situation, it made Sarah realise that their lives had become so work-driven that moments for genuine joy had dissipated. She was desperate for more time with Matthew, just as it had been in the beginning. He had always been by her side, but now, with La Viola continuously at full capacity, time spent meaningfully together had taken a backseat to operational duty.
She watched as Matthew was about to make his way back to bed. Sarah stood for a moment, contemplating her words. ‘Sit down for me,’ she said to Matthew, indicating the end of their bed.
‘Everything ok?’
Sarah’s shoulders dropped as she said, ‘I miss you, Matthew. So much.’ He went to get up, but she coaxed him back down with the wave of her hand. ‘No, let me say this.’ She stood a foot in front of him, her eyes tracing perfect circles across his face. ‘I just miss you. I miss . . .us.’ Matthew’s head dropped. ‘We’re like ships in the night at the moment, Matthew. Constantly running around, looking after everyone else except ourselves. Night stints, morning stints . . . I feel like I get to see more of you sleeping these days, than I do of you during the day.’ She checked herself. Should she have said anything? Matthew’s head was still slung low, and she couldn’t read him. ‘Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but I just miss having you close. You know, us being married and all.’ She tried to smile through her last comment, but her heart was heavy and it had plummeted to her stomach.
Matthew’s green eyes flicked up at her. ‘Sarah, I miss you, too. And no, that doesn’t make me uncomfortable. It’s actually really nice to hear.’ He let out a deep restorative sigh that came from somewhere buried in his chest. ‘Things feel really robotic at the moment. Going through the motions, right? Or is it just me?’
‘Not just you,’ she said. ‘During the renovation, I kept telling myself that once everything was settled and done, we would eventually get time together. But it’s been the opposite.’
‘Come here,’ he said, and he caught her hands in his, giving them a gentle comforting squeeze. ‘This is a good checkpoint for us. We need to change this. And we can.’
‘What’s on your calendar for the next hour?’
‘Right now?’
‘Yes.’ Her expression read desperation. ‘I don’t know why I am having this reaction, Matthew. I can’t pinpoint it. All I know is that you are my rock here and at the moment, I’m feeling detached from you.’
He mimed retrieving a phone from his pocket. ‘I’ll just check the old calendar here . . . Yep. I am free as a bird for the next hour.’
‘Or two? Potentially?’
‘Two?’
‘Matthew. We haven’t . . . you know . . . since . . . well . . .’ Looking down at him, hair tousled from his interrupted sleep, Sarah knew what she wanted. She went to the en suite to get a condom and offered it to him. ‘What do you think?’
He plucked it from her fingers without breaking her eye contact, dropping it to the bed behind him. ‘Come here,’ he said, coaxing her towards him.
‘No.’ Her eyes grew taut and she exhaled, bolstering herself. ‘Let me.’ She brushed his outstretched hands away and even in the low light from the en suite, Matthew noted how the cinnamon tint to her eyes darkened. Sarah brought both of her hands to the top of her shoulders, catching the thin straps of her cotton slip. Mathew pulled off his pyjama top and tossed it to the floor. He swallowed deeply at the sight of Sarah wiggling the slip off her shoulders, down her breasts, with it eventually resting on her hips. She took a step forward and Matthew caught her in his hands. His mouth found the warm fragrant space between her breasts, and his breath quickened. She held his chin in her hand and locked eyes with him. ‘I thought you were an arse and legs man.’
He stifled a laugh, just centimetres from her full breasts. ‘I am. But I can appreciateallof you, can’t I?’ His mouth began to inch its way across her right breast. ‘And right now, I’d like to appreciatethis.’
Sarah suddenly pulled away from his grasp and her hands met the slip on her hips. She dropped it to the floor. Locking her thumbs under the lacy waistband of her underwear, she caught his eye and watched his desire-filled delight as she slid them off and stepped out of them. She took his hands and brought them to her waist. ‘I’ve missed your hands on my body, Matthew. Your touches. Your attention.’ He breathed through a wave of adrenaline as she leaned across, balancing one knee on the mattress edge between his legs. She tugged his pyjama shorts and underwear from him then dropped her mouth to meet his lips, slowly grazing her plump lower lip against his. He could smell the sweetness of her breath as her tongue quickly flicked against his. ‘These lips . . .’ She drew him close so that their foreheads were touching, and her heaving chest was just inches from his chin. ‘I’ve missed your kisses, your tongue . . .’ And with that, she pushed him onto his back, allowing his torso to lengthen and his muscles to tighten before her.
Matthew looked up at Sarah’s naked body. It was his to enjoy, pleasure, hold, taste and caress. Blood coursed through him to his centre.
‘Jesus, Sarah,’ he panted.
‘What’s wrong?’ She braced herself on his thighs, leaning over him. Her breasts dropped with her shoulders and his gaze darted between them and her eyes.
‘Fuck.’ His feet had found a nervous fidgety beat on the floor. ‘I’m offering three hours. If you’re interested,’ he said through another swallow as he sheathed himself.
‘Suddenly available?’
‘I’ve moved a few things around.’
When Sarah lowered herself onto him, tauntingly slow, inch by inch, the pleasure registered on his face and she smiled. He reached for her, desperate with want and pulled her closer as they found a rhythm.
‘Three works for me,’ she whispered.
ventisei
Matthew was hard at work processing the overnight booking requests while Sarah tended to the breakfast rush. With coffee poured and guests settled, she took a moment to duck into the kitchen, emerging with a stack of magazines and newspapers.
‘Here,’ she said, offering a copy ofLe Mondeto the Moreaus. ‘This is today’s edition. I’ve arranged a daily copy for you for the duration of your stay with us.’ Monsieur Moreau gladly accepted the paper, withdrawing his glasses from his shirt pocket. ‘Shall I leave this by the pool for you, for later?’ she asked Madame Moreau, holding up a copy ofVogue France.
‘Oui! Merci beaucoup. Comme c’est gentil,’ she said, beaming.
