Page 57 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

I rest my head on his shoulder and watch Mr. Darcy fighting his affection for Elizabeth Bennet for a while. And then eventually I close my eyes and fall asleep.

*

When I wake, the light is different; it’s still daylight, but the sun is lower in the sky, and the room is warm and has turned from the color of lemons to the inside of a cantaloupe. The movie has long finished, I suspect, and an old episode ofThe Grand Touris playing quietly, the one where Clarkson, May, and Hammond travel across Mongolia in a homemade off-roader.

I turn my head and rest my chin on Joel’s chest. He’s dozed off. I suspect he hasn’t been asleep long. He has one arm tuckedunder his head and the other around me. He’s going to end up with a stiff neck.

His face is relaxed, and he’s breathing slowly and evenly. He looks younger like this, without frown lines. He frowns a lot. I think it’s not so much because he’s cross but because he’s trying to puzzle people and things out.

I want to date you, then take you to bed, and continue taking you to bed for the rest of my days, and that hasn’t changed. I want to be with you.

I give a small, shivery sigh. I don’t understand. I’m not all that. I’m a very flawed creature, and his declaration makes no sense to me. It’s clear to me from what he’s told me about his father that he’s desperate for affection, and he wants to be adored. Of course he does; who doesn’t? He deserves it. And he’d be much better off with a girl who was normal, and who would be able to provide him with the future and the family I’m still convinced he wants deep down.

You’re perfect the way you are, he said, but I’m nowhere near perfect, and it makes me sad to think there will come a point when he realizes that, and I fall off the pedestal he’s put me on. I don’t want that to happen, and it will, if we start dating.

But how do I fight these feelings I have for him? Because I do like him. A lot. I always have; I’ve just tried to ignore it. It’s getting almost impossible, though, now he’s pursuing me openly.

I look out of the window at the garden. The sun has dried up all the rain, and the flagstones are steaming in the late sun. The sub-tropical flowers in the bushes around the edge of the courtyard have all been washed and dried and are brilliant colors—bright pinks and vivid oranges and vibrant purples. A fantail—the bird that Maori called the Piwakawaka—is jumping about on the table, presumably picking up a crumb or two left from our meal.

Would it be so terrible to give in to my desires? To kiss Joel, to date him, to go to bed with him? Why am I so hesitant, when he’s so keen?

But I realize then—it’s because I don’t want to lose his friendship. I value it highly, and I’m terrified that once he discovers the real me—once that fragile façade he’s invented dissipates like early morning mist—he’ll vanish with it, and I won’t see him again. And I know that would break my heart.

I look back at him, and my heart gives a little jump as I see him looking at me. We don’t say anything for a moment. His eyes look very blue in the shaft of sunlight that’s slanting through the living room. He has quite girlish lashes, long and dark and curved enough to make me jealous. He desperately needs a shave, although actually I think he’d look good with a proper beard. His lips look soft and dry, and I know how they’d feel against mine if I kissed him.

He doesn’t move. He looks into my eyes, and then his gaze slips down my face, caressing my nose, my cheeks, my mouth. He studies it, as if he’s imagining kissing me, and his lips curve up, just a little. His gaze comes back to mine, and the smile spreads. He looks warm, relaxed, and happy just to be lying there with me.

I push up, so I’m on one elbow, and shift up the sofa a bit so I’m level with him. I lift a hand to brush a thumb over his bottom lip.

Then I lean forward and kiss him.

His lips are warm and dry, as I knew they would be. He doesn’t move, and he doesn’t pull me toward him. He lets me kiss him, maybe making sure that I know this is my decision.

I tilt my head a little to the right, pressing my lips to his in soft, light kisses for a while. He doesn’t hold his breath, and it whispers across my lips, making me think of how we shared hisair tank beneath the ocean. I pause, breathing in; I breathe out, and he inhales. Exchanging the sacred Ha—the breath of life.

I kiss him again, and this time I open my mouth and touch my tongue to his bottom lip.

His hand comes up, slipping into my hair to hold my head, and he opens his mouth and slides his tongue against mine. Ooh, yes, that’s turning up the heat… Our tongues probe and thrust, and my heart leaps up into my throat and makes me gasp. It comes out as a groan, and Joel responds by putting both arms around me, then twisting somehow so I’m half under him against the back of the sofa.

“Get out of that,” he teases, catching my hand and pinning it against the cushion.

“Don’t want to,” I reply.

He laughs and crushes his lips to mine, and when he releases my hand, I put my arms around his neck and give in to the kiss, happier than I’ve been for a long time.

Chapter Thirteen

Joel

My heart is racing, and it’s no surprise that I have an erection. Zoe has obviously noticed, because she’s rocking her hips slowly, arousing herself on it. I have no problem with that. Arouse away, girl.

Man, she kisses like a goddess. Why am I surprised? I knew she would. She’s going to be great in bed, too. She’s far too beautiful, too luscious, too sensual and sexy to be anything but.

It’s been a long time since I made out with a girl like this, lazy and unhurried, taking my time to get to know how she likes to kiss. I love that she’s not just lying there. I mean, I have no objections to being the one doing the kissing, but there’s always something nice about a girl who’s enthusiastic and keen to join in. And Zoe is certainly like that. She slides her tongue against mine, takes my bottom lip between her teeth and tugs lightly, and moans a little when I tighten my arms around her, pulling her against me while I deepen the kiss. Her fingers find their way beneath the hem of my tee and creep up my back, drawing patterns lightly over my skin. Aaahhh… that’s sexy… Very gently, she draws her nails over my ribs, her lips curving up beneath mine as I give an answering shudder.

“Mmm…” I murmur, unable to stop my hips moving in time with hers. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?” she whispers.

---