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Authors: Amelia Hart
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endeavour to keep the two of you safe then, with no off-road stuff.”
After stretching to limber up their muscles, they cycled very slowly up the hill away from Medlands.
It was the kind of unbelievably clear day that New Zealand does so well. The air was pleasantly cool and still. Sparklingly fresh. Once they were away from the beach the road was surrounded by farmland for a couple of kilometres. White sheep grazed placidly on the slopes, ignoring them as they passed.
As soon as the road became more level, Suzanne picked up the pace. If she were honest, she had to admit to a petty wish Justin would fall behind. She had a need for him to show himself as less perfect. So far his greatest flaw seemed to be his own self-confidence, which was only really a flaw if it were overweening. She was looking for something that would make him less appealing to her.
However Justin stayed beside her. He adjusted his speed to hers without any obvious effort. Their bike wheels whirred companionably as they cycled together. She broke into a reluctant grin of acknowledgment as it became clear that even if he was not a cyclist, his level of general fitness was enough to carry him through.
Her attention slid back to the pleasant and familiar ache of warming muscles settling down to do some real work. With simple, uncomplicated joy she drew deep breaths into her mouth, fancifully imbuing the air with a taste, so refreshing it felt on her tongue and throat. She sucked it in, pulling it down into her lungs, balancing her attention between that and her pumping legs.
The road hugged the side of the hills, winding in and out of small valleys and passing through areas of forest as it went. It was one-lane, so when they heard a car approaching from behind or in front of them, they pulled over to the side and slowed to let it go past. Yet vehicles were few and far between, and mostly there was a peaceful quiet broken only by the sound of their passage, and by birdcalls.
Neither of them spoke, and it occurred to Suzanne that she had seldom enjoyed a bicycle ride as much as this one. Usually she cycled alone, relishing the opportunity to set a pace that was comfortable or challenging, to slow or stop and enjoy her surroundings. If she went with someone else the journey was inevitably dominated by their presence.
Justin seemed to sense her feelings, and was silent. Thus she was able to feel all her customary pleasure in the activity, and also that joy which comes from sharing an experience you treasure with someone else, like giving a particularly precious gift.
She led them in a large loop, and they finally approached Medlands again two hours from the time they’d left it. On the long, steep slope back down to the beach they both stopped pedalling and lifted their fingers from the brakes to fly like the wind, faster and faster all the way to the floor of the valley. On the level they gradually slowed, obedient to the inevitable force of friction, until the bikes eventually came to a stop a dozen metres short of his friends’ house.
Drawn up at the side of the road, she propped herself up with one leg, unfastened her helmet and swept it off, then turned to him with a tremendous smile.
She was unaware of the way her tousled black hair framed her face, strands freed from her loose plait falling forward to stroke her flushed cheeks. Nor did she know how her warm brown eyes beckoned, her breasts rising and falling with recent exertion, or that her dampened shirt clung revealingly to her torso and rode above her long, straight legs.
But he saw it, and his hands tightened on the handgrips as he made an involuntary move toward her, and was stopped by the presence of his own bike. She seemed to glow with pleasure, and he felt an undeniable urge to be close to her, and bask in the warmth of her happiness. With a conscious effort he returned her smile, and hid his hunger.
“So, better than surfing?” she asked blithely.
“Different,” he
After stretching to limber up their muscles, they cycled very slowly up the hill away from Medlands.
It was the kind of unbelievably clear day that New Zealand does so well. The air was pleasantly cool and still. Sparklingly fresh. Once they were away from the beach the road was surrounded by farmland for a couple of kilometres. White sheep grazed placidly on the slopes, ignoring them as they passed.
As soon as the road became more level, Suzanne picked up the pace. If she were honest, she had to admit to a petty wish Justin would fall behind. She had a need for him to show himself as less perfect. So far his greatest flaw seemed to be his own self-confidence, which was only really a flaw if it were overweening. She was looking for something that would make him less appealing to her.
However Justin stayed beside her. He adjusted his speed to hers without any obvious effort. Their bike wheels whirred companionably as they cycled together. She broke into a reluctant grin of acknowledgment as it became clear that even if he was not a cyclist, his level of general fitness was enough to carry him through.
Her attention slid back to the pleasant and familiar ache of warming muscles settling down to do some real work. With simple, uncomplicated joy she drew deep breaths into her mouth, fancifully imbuing the air with a taste, so refreshing it felt on her tongue and throat. She sucked it in, pulling it down into her lungs, balancing her attention between that and her pumping legs.
The road hugged the side of the hills, winding in and out of small valleys and passing through areas of forest as it went. It was one-lane, so when they heard a car approaching from behind or in front of them, they pulled over to the side and slowed to let it go past. Yet vehicles were few and far between, and mostly there was a peaceful quiet broken only by the sound of their passage, and by birdcalls.
Neither of them spoke, and it occurred to Suzanne that she had seldom enjoyed a bicycle ride as much as this one. Usually she cycled alone, relishing the opportunity to set a pace that was comfortable or challenging, to slow or stop and enjoy her surroundings. If she went with someone else the journey was inevitably dominated by their presence.
Justin seemed to sense her feelings, and was silent. Thus she was able to feel all her customary pleasure in the activity, and also that joy which comes from sharing an experience you treasure with someone else, like giving a particularly precious gift.
She led them in a large loop, and they finally approached Medlands again two hours from the time they’d left it. On the long, steep slope back down to the beach they both stopped pedalling and lifted their fingers from the brakes to fly like the wind, faster and faster all the way to the floor of the valley. On the level they gradually slowed, obedient to the inevitable force of friction, until the bikes eventually came to a stop a dozen metres short of his friends’ house.
Drawn up at the side of the road, she propped herself up with one leg, unfastened her helmet and swept it off, then turned to him with a tremendous smile.
She was unaware of the way her tousled black hair framed her face, strands freed from her loose plait falling forward to stroke her flushed cheeks. Nor did she know how her warm brown eyes beckoned, her breasts rising and falling with recent exertion, or that her dampened shirt clung revealingly to her torso and rode above her long, straight legs.
But he saw it, and his hands tightened on the handgrips as he made an involuntary move toward her, and was stopped by the presence of his own bike. She seemed to glow with pleasure, and he felt an undeniable urge to be close to her, and bask in the warmth of her happiness. With a conscious effort he returned her smile, and hid his hunger.
“So, better than surfing?” she asked blithely.
“Different,” he
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