The Persistence of Memory

Chapter Nineteen

She doesn't answer right away, her eyes continuing to drink me in, making me feel guilty and stupid and very childish. She sets her glass down on the ledge next to her and slides deeper into the water, turning her head away from me and back to dip it under the water. The absence of her eyes makes me feel useless and desperate.

"Is that your attempt at an apology?" She says as she sits up. Her tone is surprisingly soft. Softer than I deserve.

"If you want," I offer. She rolls her eyes and stretches out her legs, touching her foot against the lower end of the large metal bath. Her toes are small and painted a dark red colour and it occurs to me then that I haven't had them in my mouth yet. Why not? I want them in my mouth. I draw my eyes back to her face. "Ok, I acted like a prick. I'm sorry." She raises an eyebrow. "But can you blame me? His timing is a fucking joke," I say, the corners of my mouth curling slightly.

She tries hard to hold back a smile, casting her eyes down downwards as she shakes her head. She's pale and pink and I can just see the tips of her nipples floating beneath the water. I run a hand over my mouth as she lets out a breath.

"It felt like it was about a lot more than his timing, Aidan." She gives me a serious look.

I look down at my hands and nod, guiltily. Course it fucking was. She knows it too. "Well, that was the main sticking point."

"I was supposed to call him when I arrived. I didn't do that. So if I hadn't answered that call he'd have worried, then he'd likely have gotten on a plane and come straight here. He didn't want me to come on my own in the first place," she explains.

I nod again. I wouldn't have let her come on her own either. "Well, there are plenty of bedrooms. He could have taken his pick. Long as he knows the space next to you is taken."

"He might have had something to say about that."

"What? So you don't think it would turn him on to watch you with me?" I pretend to look confused.

"Oh I don't know, would it turn you on watching me with him?" She counters.

My fists curl and my spine turns to steel. Watching her sit next to him at that dinner party two nights ago had been fucking torture. Watching him wrap his fingers around hers and stroke the skin of her back as he came off looking like husband of the fucking year. She astounds me every day.

I mean I'd respected him for having no qualms about saying that in a room full of people - I still wanted to punch him in the smug prick face - but I'd respected him for that. He'd almost looked like the perfect husband on Friday night. Not the cheating, arrogant prick I know him to be.

"No, it wouldn't," I say finally.

"Well I doubt Oliver would enjoy it either," she says lifting her wine again. I say nothing else as she drinks. I don't want to fucking talk about him anymore.

I draw my eyes down her body and try and ignore the urgent throbbing between my legs. My unused hard-on had faded a little as I sat outside feeling sorry for myself but it appeared to be back with a vengeance.

Neither of us speaks for what seems like hours, while I sit here and try and work out if she's forgiven me yet, or if she still wants me to sleep downstairs.

"Well, are you getting in or not?" she asks suddenly. 

I blink in surprise before I stand up, unbutton my jeans, and step out of them. The look on her face as she glances at my body is desire and nothing else and it softens and heats up the cold parts of me. Parts which had felt even colder the last half hour.