I swallow, my mouth parched, and try to think of something to say, but words escape me. I stare at him and he stares at me, electricity built of unsaid words and unknown feelings thrumming between us. There’s nothing awkward or uncomfortable about it. It’s just us, doing what we do, trying to glean something from each other that we don’t know ourselves, forever locked in each other’s eyes.
Finally he pulls up his pants, comes over to me, and pulls me into a wet, passionate kiss, his lips pressing hard against mine, his tongue tasting like me, like salt, like sweat.
He holds my face with one hand, running his thumb over my lips, gazing at me deeply. “I’m sorry if that was a bit savage.”
I smirk. “The more savage the better.” And it’s true, because anything that could border on the sweet and sensitive, the emotionally-laden sex that is so often called “making love,” well, I don’t think I could maneuver that very well. After all, as savage as that fuck was, it still unleashed a torrent of emotions that I’m not equipped to handle. I’ve had a black heart my whole life, and it doesn’t know what to do with anything that could turn it whole and pink.
Noises come suddenly from behind the room’s locked door, and we quickly exchange a sheepish glance before we hightail it down the corridor, Lachlan flicking the condom in the trash can as we leave.
Once in the foyer, we pause, spotting the group still in the wine bar, laughing about something.
I look up at Lachlan. “We don’t have to join them.”
“Aye,” he says with a nod. “But we should. Come on.”
“Do I look like I just got thoroughly fucked?” I whisper to him.
He glances down at me and there’s a flash of a wicked smile. “Oh yes.”
“There you guys are,” Steph says as we approach the table, and it’s too late to even smooth down my hair. I know that my face and chest must be flushed. “I’d ask where you’ve been, but I don’t want to know.”
I give her a haughty smile and take my seat like a prim and proper lady. “Just getting some fresh air.”
Nicola snorts from beside me. “I think I might need to know where you’re getting your air.”
“Sweetheart, your air is just fine,” Bram says to her from across the table.
With the wine tasting over now, everyone is just splitting a couple of bottles. I hesitate to have a glass, already feeling quite woozy from earlier, but Lachlan surprisingly has one so I join him.
Eventually our stomachs start grumbling and we all head to dinner in one of the restaurants. Lachlan quickly stops by the room to get Emily since we learned you can have pets out on the patio, and we spend a few hours drinking more wine and eating as the sun goes down in the distance, casting a glow over the vineyards.
I breathe in deeply, enjoying the heat of the night air and the crickets that fill the silence. Bram and Nicola excuse themselves, Nicola saying she needs to call her mother and speak to Ava before it gets too late. Then eventually Steph and Linden leave too, hanging onto each other like two drunken fools.
“Alone at last,” I say to Lachlan who is sitting splay-legged beside me and puffing on a cigar that the waiter hasn’t said anything about. In fact, I think they purposely forgot we were all out here.
Lachlan lets out a small grunt, brow creased and deep in thought. I think he’s drunk, but it’s hard to tell. If anything, he’s gotten quieter as the night goes on.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
His eyes flit to mine. His stare is hard, flinty. “I’m just fine,” he says giving me a tight smile.
I swallow. “That’s such a girl answer.”
He blinks, intensity brewing like a thunderstorm. “Excuse me?”
Even Emily raises her head.
I lean back slightly, appraising him. Even though I was kind of provoking him just now, his mood switch is surprising.
Still, I refuse to be intimidated. We’ve passed too many bodily fluids between each other for that. “I said that’s a girl answer. You said fine, like everything isn’t fine, and if that’s the case, I just want to know what’s up.”
His dark brows lower, and it’s almost like he’s glowering at me. Still, he doesn’t say anything. He sticks his cigar in his mouth and looks away.
I sigh and put my hand on his shoulder. “Hey. You can tell me.”
He closes his eyes, his head leaning back for a moment. “Love,” he says, an edge to his voice. “I’m fine. I’m just…processing what’s going on.”
“And what’s going on?”
He shakes his head and leans over the table, pouring himself another glass of wine. I watch as he downs it. When he’s done, he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “What isn’t going on?” he says. But there’s so much despair and bitterness in his voice that I feel like I’ve been backhanded.
I get out of my seat and grab his hand, tugging him to me. “Okay, the wine is gone. It’s time to go.”
He shrugs out of my grasp. “Go back alone then. I’m still smoking my cigar.”
He’s slurring a bit, so he’s obviously a bit drunk. He’s turning a bit Mr. Hyde on me.
I cross my arms. “No. I’m not going back without you.”
“Your loss,” he says, then laughs to himself as if he’s said something hilarious.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “It isn’t my loss.” I sit back down and stare at him imploringly. Ages pass. Finally, he puts out his cigar.
“Fine,” he says, none too happy about it. “We can go now.”
He gets up, a bit unsteady on his feet, and reaches down for Emily, but the dog is perceptive and growls at him, shying away.
He stares at her for a moment, frowning, like he can’t believe it. Then he rubs his lips together, his eyes beady and hard, and nods his head to some imaginary question.
“All right,” he says quietly. “All right.” He looks to me and seems to understand. “Do you want to take her? I don’t think I should.”
“Yeah, sure,” I say quickly, and grab Emily’s leash. She’s still staring up at Lachlan in confusion and he’s matching her stare. She knows that something has changed in him, and now he knows it, too.
Dogs with behavioral problems shouldn’t learn from people with behavioral problems. Now I understand it. Another piece of the puzzle that is Lachlan, carefully fitting into place. Funny enough that it has to be a dog to knock some damn sense into him and not me.
I grab hold of Lachlan’s arm but he doesn’t pull away. His gait is a bit awkward, but I manage to lead him around the hotel and all the way back to our room.
He goes straight for the bed, flopping over facedown.
I lock the door, turn on the lights, and let Emily off the leash before I go over to him and tap him on the shoulder.
“You can’t sleep with your clothes on,” I tell him.
He grunts. “Undress me then.”
“You weigh a literal ton,” I tell him, trying to reach underneath him to pull off his shirt.
“Hyperbole,” he mutters.
I smack him on the ass. “Just sit up, please.”
With a heavy sigh he somehow rights himself. I quickly manage to pull off his shirt, his chin dipped against his chest, before he falls back to the bed, creating a minor earthquake on the mattress. I roll him on his side and take off his pants, for once something entirely unsexy.
“How did you even manage to get this drunk?” I ask, even though I’m not sure he’s listening.
He swallows a few times, eyes still closed, and says, “I don’t drink much.”
“Right. The rugby,” I say.
“No,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “I just shouldn’t. I like it too much. I need it too much. Like I need a lot of things. Bad things. And then I’m useless. It’s ruined me before, you know.”
I pause at this information so casually coming out of his mouth, then I pull his pant legs off before untying his boots. “I see,” I eventually say.