Page 41 of My Summer of Magic Moments

‘No, not if you don’t want me to.’

‘I don’t want you to.’ And he took her back into his embrace, his lips moving towards hers. ‘Let’s carry on where we left off, shall we?’ And his lips pressed hers before she could answer.

In her relief, she relaxed into his kiss. It was intense, a promise of so much more. They were still on the beach, with the sound of the waves rushing to shore, the dark of the night around them now, the storm candle flickering within its glass case from the garden. It was beautiful here, peaceful – but it was getting a bit chilly.

‘Shall we take this inside?’ he murmured between kisses.

‘Yes,’ she replied, though he could have taken her right there and then if he’d persisted. This was number 8 on her magic moments to-do list, after all. But yes, a bedroom might feel more protective, more private for her undressing. Oh jeez … she still had to get her bloody breasts out.

‘Okay.’ He led the way, back through the garden, the grass scratchy under foot, into the lounge, the hall, holding her hand all the way and on up the narrow staircase. At the top of the landing he paused, holding her gaze reassuringly. He led her into a cosy bedroom, lit by the glow of a bedside lamp, with wooden furniture painted in a cream shabby chic style. Crisp white bedding. A king-size bed. It was a lovely room. But her nerves kicked in. This was the first time she’d had sex in ages. The first time since Paul’s betrayal, since cancer, since the scars. Would she be any good? Would he be disappointed?

Ed seemed to sense her fears and held her to him once more, stroking her hair. Then he shifted his head back slightly to watch her as he lifted a fingertip to trace her cheekbone before kissing her on the lips again, very gently this time.

Okay, Claire, now or never. Let’s do this thing. Her thoughts drifted anxiously for a moment, and then all she could think about was his lips on hers, responding with a longing she hadn’t felt in a very long time. His body pressed so close, the scent of his aftershave, his skin, one arm tracing her back, the other holding her against him, the hardness of his erection firm and sexy against her hip.

She pulled back to take a slow breath, and he nuzzled her neck, sending little shivers down her spine. ‘Oh, yes, that’s good.’ She wasn’t sure if she’d said it out loud or thought it. Her lips close to his ear, she kissed the lobe. Then she took a step back, drew a deep breath, and pulled her summer dress off in one swoop. In her underwear, matching lacy stuff this time. Nothing like being prepared. Would she ever be prepared? Ed looked at her – she could see the desire in his eyes. She stepped forward to kiss his lips, then the tip of his nose and a little scar that rested on his forehead above his right eyebrow. He seemed to tense for a second, but then relaxed as she moved her hands down to his shirt, undoing the buttons one by one, appearing more in control than she felt inside. She traced her fingertips beneath the loose material, following the definition of his abs – my God, his chest was gorgeous, toned and solid. Her fingertips trailed down further, finding the line of dark hair that led down to his belt, his trousers. The skin of his stomach quivered under her touch, a sensual ripple.

She looked right at him. He smiled, but there was a trace of nervousness there in his eyes too. Maybe he hadn’t done ‘it’ for a long time either. That thought made her feel better somehow.

She undid the buckle on his belt, unfastened the button on his jeans, and eased the zip down. She could feel the heat from him there, her hand brushing against his hardness. It made her feel wanted. It made her feel good. Not that she intended being good at all.

He peeled down his jeans.

Jesus, right then, we’re really doing this. And, she had no intention of running away.

They stood staring at each other, both down to their underwear. She wanted to be the one to take off her bra. She took a long, slow breath. ‘Oh God.’ The words slipped out. Her hands found the clasp at her back.

‘It’s okay. It’ll be fine,’ he soothed, still holding her gaze.

Mists of tears were in her eyes. She hadn’t meant to get emotional. Damn.

He took a step closer and brushed a thumb gently beneath her lower lashes, where the first tear had spilled. Then kissed her cheek, oh so gently.

He moved back a fraction, giving her space. He nodded. She nodded back. Then she slipped the bra from her breasts and stood before him. He was still smiling gently as he stood and looked at both breasts, at the scar laid bare. He lifted a hand towards her, tenderly touching her good right breast, trailing a fingertip over the nipple, which tensed under his touch. Moved his hand towards her damaged left breast. ‘Is this okay? Will it hurt at all?’

‘No, it doesn’t hurt.’ If anything, she had lost sensation there – the lack of a nipple, the long horizontal scar which had deadened some of the nerve endings.

He tenderly traced his finger along the scar and kissed the skin of her breast above it. ‘It’s fine, Claire. It’s who you are. You’re a survivor.’

And yes, she was. It was who she was now: a woman who had survived cancer and had the scars to show for it.

‘And –’ he lifted her chin with a gentle hand and looked her in the eye – ‘you are beautiful.’ He kissed her on the lips, then his tongue found hers.

Then he brought her so close she could feel him hard against her, sending warm pulses right through her, and she felt a huge sense of relief. He had seen her and he still thought she was beautiful and he still wanted her. His body was telling her as much.

She slipped her pants down, a giggle escaping her now. He stood staring at her with a grin. ‘Okay then, if that’s the way we’re playing it –’ and pulled his boxers down, launching them with humour across the room. He lifted her to place her on the bed, and her soft laughter was silenced as his hands got to work. Light, teasing touches, firm long strokes and massages all along her body. Then down, exquisitely, to tease her inner thighs until they quivered, his fingers tracing her secret curves, parting and stroking, gently at first, then rhythmically, until she was pushing back with him, against him. Taking her oh-so-close.

But she wanted to pleasure him too. She leant up on her side, pushing him flat down on the bed, delighting in the defined contours of his chest. She traced her hand down through the dark hair around his navel and below, reached his hard shaft, wrapping her fingers around its firmness and starting a slow, sexy glide. He lay back on the pillows, arms angled each side of his head, eyes closed, losing himself to her touch. She liked watching him there, the slow smile that lay on his lips, a quiver of tension beneath her fingertips as she moved faster, firmer, slowing as he began to moan.

‘Whoa there.’ He lifted a hand, opened his eyes with a grin. ‘Steady, or it’ll all be over before we get to base.’

She smiled back and knelt across him, her bare breasts brushing his chest, kissing his lips. Aware they were so close. One move and he’d be in.

But he sat up, rolled her down onto the bed on her back, slowly caressed her inner thighs, finding that perfect spot until a soft moan escaped her lips. He stared at her with longing in his eyes. ‘Are you ready?’

Oh boy, was she ready. She nodded, thinking any words might end in a whimper. He leant to take a condom from the bedside drawer. God, how she wanted to feel him inside her. Even if she only got this one night. She wanted to feel whole again, loved again. He’d done everything right so far.

She watched him place the condom on; she didn’t even know if she could get pregnant any more. There was a chance the chemo could have damaged her ovaries. She hoped not … there was still that dream of a family. But not to worry about that now. Better safe than sorry.