Cross the Line

Part Eighteen

The food in the restaurant was exquisite, fresh fish, al dente pasta and delicious creamy desserts. Naomi was full to bursting when she saw the liqueur coffees and flaming Sambuccas crossing the restaurant on a large tray.

Naomi groaned, “Are you trying to kill me Simon?”

Simon only grinned, “Death by coffee? Sounds like one of your nightmares again.”

                “Coffee, following tiramisu, and cannelloni and calamari...and how much wine? Death by overindulgence!” she grinned back at him.

Conor reached for his coffee and smiled, “what a way to go though, hey?”

They stayed at the table for a long while after finishing, the men drinking whisky, the women chatting and finishing the wine. It had been a wonderful evening, good company and great food. Naomi didn’t want it to end, and when Conor smiled lazily across the table at her, she smiled back.

Conor took the smile at face value; he was so pleased to see Naomi relaxed and happy. Other than on a few occasions in Ireland, he’d rarely seen her relaxed, calm and dare he think happy? The mutual respect between her and Simon was so obvious, and to think that he’d thought there may have been something illicit between them, he blushed at the memory of his words and actions, and then noticed Naomi’s smile at the flush taking over his face. She raised a questioning eyebrow and he shook his head.

When he looked up both Simon and Stephanie were observing the silent exchanges with humour, “oh to be newly in love!” Simon exclaimed, and his wife smiled.  

Naomi made to protest, her instincts to shout out at the incorrectness and gross prematurity of the statement, but Conor’s hand reached out to cover hers, and he offered a sympathetic look.

                “I wouldn’t say it’s new love, but we’re having fun, aren’t we Naomi?” She nodded an enthusiastic answer, relieved that he diffused the situation. “So are we moving on somewhere? The night is still young...”

Simon groaned, “this much sitting isn’t great, I think I need to get home and put my feet up...You two go on though, enjoy yourselves!”

Outside the restaurant, they parted, Simon struggling into a taxi, once they’d left Conor turned to Naomi, “I’ve got a great bottle of port sat on the sideboard at Simon’s flat. Do you fancy a drop?”

She nodded, they’d not spent time at Simon’s flat up until now, but she was tired, pleasantly satiated, and with alcohol subduing her normal resistance, she wanted to curl up with him somewhere warm and comfy. The taxi ride was short, and within minutes, they were in the modern bachelor kitchen sipping port.

Leading her in to the lounge, he swept his head down to capture her lips with his, “I’ve wanted to do that all night!” He finally growled against her throat, his day old stubble scuffing over her skin in the most erotic way. In response,  Naomi threw her head back, giving him access to her neck, the pleasure of his lips, the relaxation of the alcohol all combining to help her lose her inhibitions, and to open up to her desire for this man.

Before they’d reached the bedroom she’d stripped him down to his boxer shorts, deft and enthusiastic fingers dividing him from his clothes. He on the other hand was extremely patient, and in the bedroom, he sat on the bed, propped up on pillows.

                “Take you clothes off!” he growled, watching her earnestly.

Once again the urge to deny, to run away was counteracted by her extreme relaxation and comfort with him.