cleaning up the mess.
I scooped up my knickers, gave
the meal a quick stir, then went to the bathroom to freshen up.
His words rattled in my brain
and sent a thrill through me.
I fucking love your pussy. I
fucking love my cock in cunt.
He’d never said that before as
he’d been in the final throes. It was new and exciting. But I wondered why it
had tumbled out of his mouth. What had been going through his mind and why was
he worried things might change? I didn’t know the answer to that but I would
probe a little more, let my inquisitive side out to play.
Feeling a little less like I
had the just-fucked look, I headed back into the kitchen. The spicy scent of
chili flooded my nostrils and made my mouth water.
Coben was sitting at the table
again with a fresh bottle of beer. He glanced up as I walked in, his cheeks
still flushed from the exertion.
“You okay?” he asked, smiling.
“Of course.” I set knives and
forks on the table. “You?”
He rested his hand over mine.
“Absolutely. I just…”
“What?”
“Had to have you. It just came
over me.” He studied me. “I hope I wasn’t rough.”
“Not at all, it was amazing.
The perfect appetizer.”
He lifted my hand to his mouth
and kissed my knuckles.
“And now I hope you’re hungry
for food,” I said.
“I am.”
I turned and served. I could
almost feel his gaze on me as he watched my every move. I set his meal in front
of him before adding a bowl of salad to the table, enjoying the simmering sexy
atmosphere between us. I hoped it would be a theme for the weekend after his
low mood.
“Are we still going to the
beach? Sunday maybe?” I reached for a glass of wine, then sat next to him.
“Sounds like a plan.” He
started eating.
“Weather is still looking
good. It will be nice to laze on a sun lounger, listen to the waves, eat ice
cream.”
“We’ll head to Brighton, shall
we?”
“Yes, I love it there.” I
helped myself to salad.
Coben was quiet. He stared at
the window.
Suddenly I felt like he was
drifting again. I’d reeled him back in but now where was he going? “So,” I
said. “Are you going to tell me about these ‘places’ your mind has been these
last few days?”
He set his attention on me.
“It’s nothing.”
“Of course it’s something.” I
held his gaze. “Tell me.”
He let out a small sigh. “The
other night.” He paused. “At the Sterns’.”
“It was a lovely evening.” I
thought of our conversation in the cab on the way home. “But you missed having
a proper catch-up with your old military friend?”
“Edward?”
“Ed, Edward…yes.”
He poked at his chili. “I
guess.”
“I know you’ve found it hard
to talk about the tours in Afghanistan in the past. Maybe it would have done
you good to hash through some memories.”
He said nothing.
“It’s not the same talking to
me, is it?” I went on. “I wasn’t there. But maybe if you and Ed got together
and—”
“I don’t know if that’s a good
idea.”
I often worried that he hadn’t
kept in touch with any military friends. It was as if leaving the forces had
been a completely new start for him, not just career but in every aspect of his
life. Now his only male companions were either work colleagues or family. “Why
not?” I asked. “I think it would be a great idea.”
He shoveled in a mouthful of
food as though knowing it would buy him time before he answered.
I waited patiently.
“It just wouldn’t,” he said
eventually.
“But you said you’d been
friends.”
“We were.”
“Good friends?”
He nodded. “Yes, good
friends.”
“No one would have guessed the
other evening. You barely said five words to each other.”
“It was…awkward.” He took a
slug of beer.
“Why?” I frowned. “Tell me, I
don’t get it.”
“I suppose there were just
things we would have liked to say to each other, talk about, but couldn’t
because there were other people there who shouldn’t hear those
K. Sterling
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