Questions of Trust A Medical Romance - By Sam Archer Page 0,31

broke free from the kiss and she felt his breath hot against her hair, her ear, before his teeth nipped at her earlobe and his tongue teased it exquisitely. She titled her pelvis so that it pressed even more tightly against his groin and he groaned, low and guttural, in her ear. Chloe became aware that her own breath was coming in little gasps as she buried her mouth against his neck.

And, from a distant part of her that retained a semblance of control, she heard a small voice saying: No. Stop.

‘No,’ she murmured out loud, surprising herself.

Tom drew back, still holding her, looking into her face. He was flushed, his eyelids heavy. ‘Why?’

‘No,’ she said again, more clearly this time.

‘Don’t you want to?’

‘It’s just –’ Her words came thickly, as if she’d lost the power of speech and was having to relearn it.

‘If you’re worried Kelly will walk in, we can go in the –’

‘No, Tom. I can’t.’

‘Can’t, or won’t?’ His tone was soft.

Flustered, Chloe stepped away from him, ran her hands over her face, straightened her clothes. She felt dizzy, disorientated. Her heart was hammering and for a moment she didn’t trust her legs to support her.

Somehow she managed to look Tom in the face. The desire was still there in his eyes, but it was dwindling under the fog of resignation.

‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I have to go.’

‘Chloe –’

She held up a vague hand, didn’t look back but walked quickly to the door and let herself out. In the car she paused a moment, sucking in great lungfuls of breath, fighting the urge to hyperventilate which she knew would make her even more lightheaded.

When she felt composed enough to be safe behind the wheel, Chloe started the car and set off for the cottage.

***

She glanced at the green digital display of the clock after what seemed like an hour. It read 2:55. Ten minutes had passed since she’d last checked.

Chloe decided enough was enough. She wasn’t going to get to sleep by lying there waiting to drift off. She rose from bed, pulled on a thin terrycloth dressing gown – the night was still warm despite the hour – and went into the kitchen. There she poured herself a glass of water; caffeine was the last thing she needed.

The shaking had continued all the way home and she’d had to sit in the car outside the cottage and compose herself once more before going in to Mrs McFarland and sending her home. After the older woman had left, having tried unsuccessfully to find out again exactly whom Chloe had been to see, Chloe took a tepid shower, not sure what the stinging needles of water were quite supposed to achieve but hoping they’d somehow settle the turmoil within her.

They didn’t, and Chloe sat up for half an hour more before turning in. Lying in bed, trying in vain to find a comfortable position, she began to realise with a creeping dread that the insomnia which had last plagued her in the months after Mark’s death was planning on paying her a repeat visit tonight.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Chloe took a deep draught of water, then pressed the cool glass against her forehead. She’d had no idea feelings of the power of those she’d experienced that evening were still rousable within her, and the realisation that the capacity to experience sensation so intensely lay dormant within her was breathtaking and more than a little frightening.

She’d been taken completely by surprise by what had happened between her and Tom, yet she knew she ought to have expected it. Part of her even wondered if she was as surprised as she told herself. It had been there between them, nearly from the start, this attraction which neither of them had spoken about or even alluded to, and just because she’d admitted to herself in a careless, throwaway manner that Tom was an attractive man it didn’t mean her true feelings towards him were any less real.

Now, she had to face up to the fact that the situation was different. She couldn’t deny any longer that what she felt for Tom was more than the harmless appreciation any woman might have for a good-looking man. Her feelings for him were intense, as visceral and as powerful as any she’d ever known, and yes, while she was being honest, that included her dear Mark. It wasn’t even just adolescent lust. She understood that Tom appealed to her on multiple levels: he