Page 143 of UNAwere

I nod, gasping, almost collapsing against him in my haste. He presses his nose against my hair and breathes deep.

‘I can smell how wet you are for me,’ he groans. ‘All I wanna do is taste you again.’

‘Do it.’

He chuckles. ‘You’re trouble, Red.’ He pulls back, and I scowl, reaching for him. But he takes my hands and kisses them. ‘Come on.’

He leads me through the garden, out towards the sliding door to my room. And when we reach it, he presses me against it and kisses me again, as if he can’t help himself. I moan, hiking myself up and wrapping my legs around his waist.

His hands slide under my dress, up my bare thighs until they’re gripping my arse, and he rocks against me so deliciously, I whine. He groans, nuzzling my throat.

‘We need to stop,’ he murmurs against my skin. ‘Fuck, you’re too fucking tempting, Sybbie.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I gasp out.

He chuckles, kissing my jaw. ‘Don’t apologise. I love this. I love you. Every single thing you do is like a fucking drug to me, Red.’

I nuzzle his nose, brushing my lips against his, his beard hairs tickling my face.

‘I love you, too.’

He smiles sadly and then sets me down. But I cling to him, making sure he can’t slip away just yet.

‘Live, Sybbie,’ he murmurs. ‘I just want you to live. And do it for no one else but you.’

I grasp his face and raise myself onto my tiptoes, kissing him one more time. But I don’t answer. I turn to the door and open it, casting a single glance back at him before I step inside.

Aknock on my bedroom door wakes me the next morning, and I quickly scramble, grabbing the toy I left on the bedside table the night before and throwing it under one of the pillows. I’d taken steps to clean it last night, but had gotten distracted before I could pack it back into the secret pocket of my suitcase.

Bernie steps in with a tray of coffee and eggs.

‘Bernie!’

‘Hello, sweet Sybbie!’ She sets the tray on my bedside table and then goes about opening the blinds. ‘How have you been?’

‘Good…’

She’s standing by the glass door, where Jude and I were last night. When she turns, her brow is raised.

‘Why does it smell like my son in here?’

My face blanches. ‘I—’

But she laughs, shaking her head. ‘I knew you were mates the moment I saw you,’ she says. ‘I know my son well enough to know when he’s found the single most important thing he’ll ever find. And as soon as I saw his face, when you pulled up in the driveway, I knew.’ She goes about picking up my clothes and cleaning the room.

I stare at her. ‘You don’t have to—’

‘Nonsense.’ She throws the clothes into the basket in the bathroom and then comes back out, tutting at the clothes spilling out of my bags. ‘You know, you can pack your clothes into the wardrobe?’

‘Oh, um, I…’ I’d thought about it, plenty of times, but I’d never gotten around to actually doing it.

‘Are you two being safe?’ she asks after a while.

I’m sipping at the coffee when she asks, and I almost choke.

‘We haven’t done anything.’

She gives me a deadpan look over her shoulder as she stacks my folded clothes on one of the shelves in the wardrobe. I realise it must be a signature Briggs look and grin. They’re all so good at it.