Nick raced back down stairs with his hands behind his back “What have you got?” I inquisitively asked and with a grin he pulled a boxed ’21 today’ wine glass from behind him, still in the box. Memories oozed back into my mind at the sight of faded paint and glitter adorning the fragile chalice “This was mine . . . where did you find it?”
“It was in the attic!” Nick’s smile faded as he tried to work out if I was upset or pleased with his discovery “I found it when I moved in. I can put it back if you want?”
“No it’s great. I just wish I could remember more about it,” all that was coming back to me was the taste of birthday cake and the sound of screeching balloons; more disjointed memories of the life I once had. Suddenly Nick not wanting to talk about his life seemed more feasible “get that bottle open then! I’ll unwrap this”
Placing the glass on the counter, next to his I felt a warm glow beholding the ‘his ‘n’ hers’ goblets before shaking it off. Nick was struggling to get the bottle opened; it seemed to be putting up quite a fight and he was getting more and more irate fighting with the cork screw “C’mon! I can’t get the bastard cork out!”
I took a step closer “Let me have a go, don’t stress about it”
He continued waging war with the wine “I’m not stressing!” and with final jerk, the base of the bottle slid across the counter and knocked my ‘21’ trophy over. I saw it coming and winced as the fragile glass struck the counter and shattered into petite, splintered debris with a distorted chime. Nick’s hands rose behind his head in defeat and he stepped away from the worktop to compose himself with a few deep breaths “I’m SO sorry!”
A pang of disappointment hit me at losing one more relic from my life but it was only a wine glass. I couldn’t even remember who gave it to me; hardly something to get upset over so I began picking up the delicate fragments “Go sit down for a sec I’ll clean this up”
Nick stepped in behind me “It’s my fault; I’ll clean it up Jas”
“I don’t mind, it’s nearly done now” my fingers nimbly lifting the minute shining slices.
He tried to reach around me and take over “Just let me do it, it’s fine”
“I GOT THIS NICK!”
We both went to pick up the same piece, but I beat him to it accidentally slicing it through the flesh of his hand with a glistening, razor edge. Nick hastily withdrew his hand from the iridescent wreckage “OW!”
I dropped my handful of pieces “Oh shit, I’m sorry!” took his hand in mine and turned it around and looking for a wound. Tracing the lines across his palm with my fingertip where it should be stained with blood, there was nothing; I had forgotten the nature of our condition . . . but he felt the pain. A moment of realisation struck us both, now awash with silence and agonizingly aware to the close proximity between us. I could feel Nick standing behind me; his breath drew heavier, rolling over my shoulder and mine involuntarily matched pace.
Oh God. This can’t happen again, my heart will actually shatter. Someone will ruin it, or the room will spontaneously combust, something will keep us apart. And I need it to, because I don’t actually have the will power to hold back; no matter how good the pep talk I had just given myself was. I have to just tell him that I won’t risk it; that his soul is too valuable to gamble. Just turn around and tell him.
I took a deep breath of courage, turned around and was met with the oceanic blue of his eyes. My brain ceased to function, speech evaded me and that courageous breath intended to fuel my logic evacuated my body. Nick’s hand rose to remove a rogue curl from my vision and rested on my cheek. It was ‘that pause’; the one with pounding pulses, laboured breath and locked eyes, right before someone makes a move.
He knew it. I knew it.
Think about his soul; think about the keepers. . . . “Nick,”
His voice was soft and a seductive smile teased one corner of his mouth “What?” don’t look at those lips, that’s not going to help.
The creak of the back door opening dragged us both kicking and screaming out of the moment “HELLO?” it was Steve poking his head in to investigate the crash of glass only moments ago. Nick and I froze to the spot, wide eyed in surprise; like a wild animal had burst in the room rather than an inquisitive copper. Steve had a quick look round and saw the glass on the side, after glancing to the latched window and deciding it must have been a freak gust of wind. He gave one final guarded glance around the kitchen and closed the door.
My nerves were broken, between having Nick so close and the shock of that I think I was about to have a heart attack “This isn’t a good idea,” With my last shred of self-control I ducked under Nick’s arms and moved to the other side of the kitchen, trying to get some space between us so I could think straight “Ghosts aren’t meant to do this”
His voice was shaded with frustration “Do what? We haven’t done anything!”
“And isn’t that a bit of a sign?” I pointed to the back door “Look what just happened!”
“So you deal with it by putting another wall between us?” further exasperation was evident in his elevated tone “I’m not giving up because of electric shocks or broken kettles or anything. This feels right Jasmine, you can’t tell me it doesn’t.”
“We aren’t supposed to feel anything! It’s messing with the balance! Your soul is a stake; it’s too risky for a quick fling!”
Nick looked like I had punched him in the gut “. . . is that all this is to you?”
“ . . . No . . . Isn’t that what you want?” My previous fire for the debate waned and extinguished, sapping the conviction from my voice.
“I want you . . . All of you . . . the stubbornness, the competitive streak, the neurotics; all of it. . . No rules, no restrictions, no balance . . .”
Hearing those words filled my body with electricity, it made my skin prickle and my ears ring; questioning if they had just heard correctly. Nick stood statue still, waiting for my reply but I could not think of a word to say. My previous arguments had taken off like fireworks leaving me with no ammunition and no speech.
He wanted all of me . . . even the rubbish annoying bits.
But my limbs were still bound by the underlying fear of losing him; fear like lead which clung to my body despite my mind screaming at me to give in and rush over to him. My vision tunnelled to the man stood in front of me, discarding all other surroundings. I wanted to burst so I would not have to feel this untamed thirst building inside me.
His voice so low the words barely carried over the hungry space “You know what?” finally breaking the thick wall of tension between us “. . . screw the balance”
He crossed the kitchen in urgent strides, wound his fingers through the curls at the back of my neck pulling me closer and his lips met mine, hard and fast. A kiss that stung with importance and desperation.
I couldn’t do anything; couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Only the intensity of that moment swam in my mind. It wasn’t like the timid almost-kiss in the keepers garden, the playful ‘almost’, spiked with red wine or even the torturously slow ‘almost’ at Edith’s. There was no ‘almost’ about it; I could feel every morsel of contact between us, senses overloaded at the friction between his mouth and mine.
Our heads bowed and veered in harmony, Nick’s fists still entwined with my curls, softly pulling at the roots of my hair and causing nerves further south to shudder in anticipation. We found a rhythm, a tempo all of our own and swayed to the symphony of percussion our hearts were producing. I could taste the sensual warmth of his tongue caressing mine, teeth occasionally grazing my lips in ardent enthusiasm. Eyes sewn shut in rapture, breath trembling in the throws infatuation; the world had fallen away from us.
My hands curved round to Nick’s back and as my fingers skimmed those dimples just above his belt that I had yearned to touch for so long, a flutter of excitement took control of me. The body that was bound from movement only moments ago was now filled with a strength it had never felt before.
I needed him. Now.
Plastering my impassioned body against his, Nick’s arms constricted around me and I knew he needed me too.
Running my tongue across Nick’s bottom lip, a parallel fire ignited inside of him. With a groan of desire his hands migrated beneath my jumper and I clumsily began undoing his shirt, but my hands were harmonizing the pace of my heart, buttons slipping through my fingers in impatience. Dexterity shot as his hot gasps of breath rang in my ears and the abrasion of his stubble against my flesh sent a throbbing pulse through my body.
My skin was on fire and ached with relief as jumper and shirt were pulled over my head and cast to the floor. Finally finishing work on Nick’s buttons, his shirt was exiled to lie beside my banished clothes and grasping his belt, I hauled him closer so my skin could meet his. Nick guided me backwards until my back struck the wall and his hips pressed against mine, I could feel the pressure of his arousal against me and it sent a tremor of delight down my legs to weaken my knees. Spine bathed in the chill of the wall I was held against and the opposing heat of his hands rising up my torso. But a sharp pain burrowed into my shoulder blade forcing me to cry out.
Nick’s reply was patch-worked with breathless, velvet kisses up my throat “If that’s . . . any sort . . . of excuse . . . or interruption . . . now’s not the time”
“Light switch, digging into my back” I couldn’t concentrate on pain vs. pleasure. Pleasure was winning.
Nick’s hand seized the back of my thigh, lifting my leg to rest in his waist so that I was swathed around him like an open flower. Balancing on my tip toe, firmly in Nick’s grasp, he relocated us to the blank stretch of wall, still encased in one another. This sudden act of authority created a new sheen of perspiration across my flesh. The sweet tang of sweat spiked the air and made my head spin with all-encompassing lust, driving my hips to press further against him, releasing a rasping pant of ecstasy against my neck.
That lower lip which so often caught my attention brushed against my ear and echoed into every muscle inside me, frenzied butterflies pushed a fervent sigh from my lungs as I laced my fingers into his hair, needing to pull him into a burning kiss. My hands were wild on his skin, revelling in the delicious sensations laid before me; the solid arc of his shoulders and masculine curve of his hips which gave way to that irresistible arrow of stomach muscle pointing beneath his waistband.
Nick broke away from me momentarily to sweep his arm across the counter; clearing the glistening shards of glass intermingled with the surface gleam of the granite, but he dropped me in shock “HHAA! OW! FUCK! That was a bad Idea!”
“You alright?!” I asked in concern, regaining my balance and grabbing his arm to inspect for injury.
Looking me up and down and winded with a smouldered glint in his eye, Nick took his hand back and it settled into the indent of my waist “Dead . . . remember?” and lifted me onto the counter.
I was drawn firmly against him, wrapping both legs around Nick’s waist to close the gap further and anchor myself to him before “OW! ARGH! Too far! There’s still glass on here!”
Nick scooped me off the counter; arms supporting my behind, still adjoined to his chest “alright?” his brows offered concern, but his mouth was curling at the edges; trying to contain laughter.
A mischievous flex of my hips against him rendered a sharp intake of breath and tightened abdomen, silencing the giggle trying to break to the surface “Yeah, that masculine, sweeping the counter thing was a terrible idea.”
He palmed the seat of my jeans to remove any residual fragments of glass “I saw it in a film once . . . appalling idea in retrospect . . .”
The flames of spontaneity had exiled my usual self-consciousness but now clarity was creeping back into me, I could feel a hint of shyness tainting my mind “Do you want me to get down?”
He shook his head and opened his mouth to speak but stopped dead. Out of the corner our eyes we could see Steve run through the back door and slam the window shut. He must have heard Nick’s suave relocation of broken glass and he looked terrified before exiting the house once more.
“Don’t say a word” Nick warned
“. . . You know what I was saying about. . .”
“Nope, it’s not ringing any bells” complete poker face.
“But . . .”
And before I could finish Nick cut me off with “. . . Not a chance” and a kiss as fervid as where we left off. He steadily carried me into the living room, and laid me onto the sofa. My eyes didn’t even attempt to register the change in scenery; lips didn’t even try to part from his once more.
I wanted Nick to discover every inch; from the scar on my ankle to the ticklish spots I kept secret. The ring of my belt buckle unclasping resonated round my head and as remaining garments were tossed to the floor I was left to rejoice in the lavish sensation of our closeness in its entirety.
Sinking into his embrace I could feel everything. I could feel the chilled luster of leather beneath my elbows, the weight of him above me, exuberant gulps of air filling my lungs so I wouldn’t pass out from the magnitude of sensation spinning inside of me.
A pulse of rapture swept through my core, arching my back and rippling through every fibre, leaving me gasping for breath and euphoric from the pit of my stomach.
Worth the wait.
Worth dying.
Worth every interruption.
