Page 91 of Kiwi Sin
His hand on my shoulder again. His other hand at the back of my neck, and I couldn’t breathe. I lifted my eyes to his, and the measuring tape dropped to the floor, because what I saw in his blue eyes was …
Hunger.
I was still watching when he lowered his mouth to mine, but when he touched my lips with his, my eyes closed, and my own hands came up to hold his shoulders. I needed to, or I’d have fallen. It was a brush of lips, and that was all, but it was like being touched by fire. I jumped, and then I burned, and he kissed me again. Longer this time, and still soft, but the arm that had gone around my waist to pull me in didn’t feel soft at all. He was standing rigid, holding himself back, and the knowledge of that purled through me like warm candle wax and melted me in exactly the same way. I was holdinghishead now, pulling it down, feeling all of my body pressed to his, and that other thing, too, that Aisha had called an “erection.” I felt it, and I shuddered.
I didn’t know how long it took. I just knew that when he raised his head, it was too soon. He said, “We can’t,” but he didn’t step away.
I said, “I know,” but I didn’t step away, either. He was in his usual kind of shirt, soft cotton with a button front, and his skin was warm through the fabric. I pressed my palm against his chest, and it was solid, so I turned my head and kissed him there.
“Oriana.” His voice came out strangled. “We can’t.” Finally, he took a step back, then ran his hand over his neatly trimmed hair and tried to smile, but couldn’t. “Not when Gray’s been so …”
“Reasonable,” I said. “Kind. But Daisy will be sending Priya down in a minute, and …”
“And I’m in no fit state to receive visitors,” he said with a wry grin, and we were both laughing. Slightly hysterically once more, until we were laughed out, exhausted by emotion, and he was holding me, my head on his shoulder. He said, “And here we are again anyway, with our hands on each other. We can’t. I should go.”
“I need to measure you, though,” I said, stepping back like there was an outgoing tide dragging at my feet.
Another smile. “Reckon you could’ve done that already. Sorry. It’s nothing I can help.”
“Notthat.”It was all I could do not to giggle. “Yourwaist.”
He bent down for the measuring tape and handed it to me, then stood still while I did it. “Eighty-one,” I told him.
I expected him to say … what? “I do have excellent proportions”? “I wish I could stay and kiss you some more”? “I’d love to get married right now”? Instead, he said, “What I feel, when we do that … do you feel anything like the same? I don’t know who else to ask,” he went on when I must have looked shocked, or shy, or however I felt, “and anyway—I reckon I should ask you, because you’re the one who matters. Or is it just more …” He seemed to be groping for a word. “Nice? Because to me—it’s like fire.”
“That’s it,” I said. “Like fire, but with aching. It almosthurts,and it’s …” Could I say this?If you want to marry him,I told myself,how can you have these kinds of secrets? If you want him to touch you and kiss you, don’t you have to say?“I get wet,” I finally managed, feeling my cheeks flame. “From inside. And so hot and … and tingly. That’s how it feels. I never knew my body could feel this much. Not something that isn’t pain, I didn’t. If it feels this good just to kiss you, what will the rest of it feel like?”
He groaned. “I’m trying not to think about that. And I need to go, or I won’t be able to.”
Oh. Whoops. That had been Saturday, and it wasThursday,and I was meant to be talking to Aisha. “Sorry,” I told her. “What did you say?”
“Excuse me,” she said, “why you’ve barely texted me?”
“Oh. I haven’t? I thought I had. What else was I meant to say? Besides, you were with your family. In Pakistan, and Australia, and …”
“I know whereIwas,” she said. “Where wereyou?You’ve got a full-time job helping somebody photograph babies, and you love it. That’s random, if you like. You’ve done heaps of babysitting and worked at the farmer’s market. I did heaps of babysitting, too—staying with my aunt and uncle in Sydney was awesome, except for that—but it isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about! Because it’sboring.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “OK. So whatdidyou want to talk to me about?”
“Well,” she said, “how about everything? I could tell you about the hot guy who talked to me at the beach three days in a row, for one thing. His name was Graham, and he was blond and had that surfer body, you know? And that surfer hair, too, a bit messy? He had his board, and I got to watch him surf. I don’t know how good he actually was at it, but he looked good to me. He stood up on the board and caught the waves and all. That is, I watched him until my little brother told my mum about him, and she decided we should take the kids to the zoo instead. Zoos are cruel! Also, I had to push my little cousin’s pushchair all day, and an old lady asked me if he was my baby! Excuse me, I’m seventeen? How did I go from hot guy at the beach to having a baby, with none of the good part in between?”
“Oh,” I said. “That’s a pity, about Graham. Maybe he’ll text you, though, if he has your number.”
“Yeh, well, he did once,” she said, and sighed. “But of course he didn’t after that. He’s nineteen, and done with boring school, and by the way, he’s inSydney.I can’t wait to go to university, that’s all. My parents think they can tell me not to date. Ha. They aresowrong. They won’tbethere. At least I know you didn’t have any romantic adventures either, so that’s cheering. Has it been dread, having to work while everybody else was having lovely holidays?”
“No,” I said. “It’s been good. I’ve babysat heaps as well—oh, I said that—and I worked for Honor, cleaning, but you know that, too. I’ve made some lovely dinners, and my knitwear business has really taken off. Well, summer, you know, with the tourists, but still. I’m going to ask Frankie if she can make me a website when she gets back. You can sell from there and ship all over the world. I probably won’t sell very much at first, but if I have the website on the labels, and have business cards made up, and tell every customer at the market that there’s more on the site, don’t you think they might tell their friends, whodidn’tcome to New Zealand, to check me out once they see my lovely things? That’s what I’m hoping, anyway. Maybe I could even try lace shawls, the kind that are like cobwebs. If I did them in a silkpaca blend, for a bridal wrap, in ivory, or in a pink so pale, it’s barely there … People like luxury, and the more beautiful a piece isandthe more you charge for it, the more they like it.”
Did I feel guilty for not telling her everything? Maybe, but … Gabriel wasn’t some fella I’d met on the beach, and I didn’t want to talk about him as if he were, if that makes sense.
“You’re going to make a website so you can earn more money, which you won’t spend, because you never go anywhere or do anything,” Aisha said. “And knit shawls. And make lovelydinners.For yourfamily.You need to go back to school and get a dose of modernity again.”
“I have modernity,” I pointed out. “Excuse me, website? That’s modern and exciting.”
“Maybe if you’re in 1995,” she said.
“Also,” I told her, “I earned more than four thousand dollars after taxes this holidays. That’s modern enough for me. And I have my full driving license, and Prudence changed her name to Priya and got her hair cut and is wearing jeans and short skirts. I gothera job, too, but she hasn’t saved as much as me. She likes clothes too much.”
“Really? Priya?” Aisha asked, her attention diverted. “That’s a Hindu name, though.”
