how else to behave. You hurt because you are always hurting. That’s why I didn’t rail at you this evening. Believe me, I wanted to.’
He pauses and I look at him. His eyes are a mass of confusion and wisdom, certainty and terror. I feel so ashamed. If he had ranted at me I could have walked away. I could have sidled back to the sanctuary of aloofness, feeling justified that he didn’t understand me and never would. But he does understand me.
‘I never stopped thinking about you, Cas. I never stopped wanting you. What I’m asking you now is why won’t you allow yourself to trust me?’
So he’s worked it out. I’m impressed – it shows dedication. But then I know he’s the dedicated type. I wonder how to answer his question. After all, he’s never let me down, hurt me or disappointed me. In fact, he consistently exceeds my expectations. He has attributes and characteristics that I thought had died out with Merlin and Arthur’s round table. And even they were myths.
I can’t think of a logical reason why I wouldn’t trust him.
I can’t think of a convincing lie. So I do the next best thing. I tell the truth, a part of the truth, something like the truth.
‘I do trust you.’
Darren’s face, previously tight and anxious, melts into the broadest grin. He takes my chin in his hand, tilts my head and kisses me. The kiss is strong, absorbing and complete. Darren is satisfied with my answer; he thinks that his six months’ wait on the sidelines has brought me to my senses. And so we move towards the lifts, to the bedrooms. I trust him but he shouldn’t trust me. I am engaged to Josh. And whilst I know now, for certain, that I made that promise for the wrong reasons, I did promise. Poor Josh. Poor Darren. And if I could bring myself to like myself more, I’d feel sorry for me too. I know I should pull away from Darren, stop him kissing me, stop kissing him back and tell him about Josh instead. But I can’t. I’m a coward. Whilst Darren has been the epitome of reasonableness thus far he won’t understand that my fear of loving him drove me into an engagement with another man. I hardly understand it. And I want him so ferociously that I don’t know how I’d continue to live if he stopped kissing me now. So whilst Darren’s kissing me, and illuminating my skin with his strokes, and warming my consciousness with the words he’s uttering, I am making another promise. This time to myself.
This will be the last time.
One last fling before I return to Josh. I may trust Darren but I don’t trust love. And whilst Darren has arrived in my life with a certificate of authenticity, he’s not carrying a lifetime warranty. Josh does. I plan to enjoy every moment of tonight and I’ll make memories that will fortify and edify me for the rest of my life.
That’s what I plan.
We fall on to the bed and he forcefully and repeatedly kisses me. My legs entwine around his, our hands race to rediscover every curve, crevice, ravine and fissure of each other’s bodies. We shed our sticky clothes in a matter of seconds as our skin burns and bleeds into one another’s. He kisses, strokes, licks every inch of my body. Exploring the obvious parts – my shoulders, my tits, my thighs, discovering the discreet parts, my toes, the crook of my elbow, the space between my fingers. I consume him. Tasting his sweat and smelling his sex. I concentrate on the feel of him, which bits of his body are rough, which are smooth. I become familiar with the texture of his hair, all his different hair. His thick, glossy locks, the downy fuzz growing in-between his buttocks, the hairs on his chest that thicken and become more coarse around his groin, the bristles that grow on his chin, right now whilst I’m with him. I listen to his heart and his breathing. Both becoming quicker and less controlled. I smell him. I taste him.
I see him.
The second before he enters me, he grabs my head in both his hands and he looks at me. He stares.
He knows me. Me with his pubes stuck to my cheek, him with my sex on his lips. I tighten my muscles in my thighs and groin in an effort to cling on to him. To keep