April's Glow (22 page)

Zac rolled to the side and opened his bedside drawer. He prepared himself, and as his hands went to her waist, and his fingers lifted underneath the hem of her lace knickers and slid them down, heat filled her centre and she ached for him.

He moved on top of her. She grabbed his hips, hungry for his skin. She breathed out a moan as his body united perfectly with hers, in confirmation of what had already been united deep within.

With ease she matched his rhythm, moving together as one. It felt poetic, like their bodies had their own language … their skin the paper, their warm breaths the words, their rhythm the rhyme, as they formed beautiful prose together.

Time disappeared, the world disappeared, it was only them. Never had she felt so all-consumed, so adored, so exhilarated.

As their connection heightened, he held his hand to her left cheek and his gaze delved deep into hers. Raw, honest beauty looked back at her. Into her. Then his eyes rolled back and a raw, primal sound emerged as the intensity of his release overtook all her senses, each merging together into one glorious mesh of bliss.

They relaxed together into a warm, liquid-like embrace. His skin, her skin, unified. His hands tangled in her hair as he breathed exhausted kisses into the side of her neck, and she cradled his head with her hand, the other rubbing his back slowly and sinuously up and down as though she were trailing her hand back and forth in still water.

They lay together for a long time, until Zac propped his head against his hand as he rested his elbow on the bed beside her. ‘How are you, beautiful?'

April smiled softly. ‘I'm revelling in sweaty bliss.'

‘Sweaty, huh?' he asked. ‘You know what you need, right?' He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.

‘A shower and some deodorant?' She giggled.

‘I've got a better idea,' he said, climbing over her and off the bed.

She lay with one arm resting above her head on the pillow, her eyes not leaving Zac's body as he walked naked from the room.

Moments later the sound of thick, running water filled the blissful silence, followed by Zac's footsteps as he walked in and out of the hallway, doing whatever he was doing. She smelled a faint hint of rose, and the familiar scent of candle wax melting. She sighed in anticipation, knowing exactly what he was up to.

After a while he returned, and her breath held tight for a moment when he walked into the room. She wasn't used to seeing him that way, but she sure could get used to it. He grinned as he approached the bed, and slid his arms underneath her, lifting her up. She giggled and held on tight.

He carried her into the bathroom, lit only by an array of small candles, steam rising sensually from the bathtub filled with bubbles.

‘I haven't had a bath in years,' she said. Mostly because showering was quicker and easier. ‘I think I've forgotten how.'

‘Good thing I'm here to guide you,' he said, leaning her closer to the tub and letting her right foot touch the water. ‘How's the temperature?'

‘Perfect.'

He sat on the edge and carefully slid her into the bath, bubbles sticking to her skin as the warm water enveloped her. The feeling of weightlessness took her by surprise, especially around the stump of her leg as it floated upwards in the water.

Zac stepped in behind her and lowered himself in, one leg either side of her body. She exhaled slowly as she leaned back onto his chest and his hands slid down her arms until they met hers, threading his fingers between hers. She curled her fingers around his hands.

The water lapped lazily around them, making subtle, intimate sounds, highlighting the closeness that tingled between them. The earthy vibration of his chest beneath her head lulled her into a deep state of relaxation as he spoke his poetry to her. His words, his voice, were music to her ears, and she wanted to lay in this watery world of his arms for eternity.

She rolled to her side and placed an arm beside his body to prop herself up slightly, the other reaching up to his face. As she traced the wet smoothness of his jawline, she surveyed the beautiful face of the man she'd tried so hard not to fall for. ‘Are you ready for round two?' she asked seductively, then gently teased and nibbled his ear until he pulled her body closer and merged his lips with hers.

The sound of birds woke him and for a brief moment he'd forgotten about what had taken place the night before. A smile eased onto his lips as delicious memories oozed into his awareness. He rolled over, longing to touch her again, to stroke her skin as he'd done when she'd fallen asleep in his arms and he'd laid there for ages, listening to the gentle ebb and flow of her breath, watching the moonlight dance across her skin as it filtered through the flowering tree outside.

On the other side of his bed lay only crumpled sheets.

He propped himself up onto his elbow. ‘April?' he called out with his croaky morning voice. He checked the time. It was still early, he'd hardly slept, and it was Monday—she had a day off today.

Juliet meowed. He got up and dressed his bottom half, walked out of the room. Kitchen—empty. Bathroom—empty. Juliet's food bowl—empty. He fed her and let her outside, then glanced towards April's house. He could see her through her kitchen window. He threw on a t-shirt and walked to her front door.

She opened it and let him in, wearing the same clothes from the night before. ‘Hi, sorry, I didn't want to wake you,' she said. ‘I was hungry and thought I should come back here and get my own food.'

‘Hey, what's mine is yours. You could have helped yourself to anything.'

Her cheeks went a little pink and she shrugged. ‘Had to feed Romeo anyway.' She turned towards the kitchen to put away her breakfast bowl into the dishwasher.

He reached his arms out and slid them around her waist from behind. She tensed, put her hands on his wrists and moved them back. ‘Zac.'

‘You okay?'

‘I'm good. I'm great.' She turned. ‘Last night was … incredible.' She locked with his gaze then hers dropped. ‘But the night is gone. It's back to reality now.'

‘Reality? Last night
was
the reality.
Is
the reality. The start of something even more incredible.'

She furrowed her brow. ‘Start? But Zac, I thought we were just living in the moment, as you said. Getting it all out of our system.'

Disappointment hardened in his gut. He'd thought he'd gotten through to her, thought she'd surrendered to the possibility of taking a risk. ‘I don't want to get it out of my system,' he replied. ‘Never did. I want it
in
my system.'

April sucked in a deep breath. ‘Oh God,' she shook her head. ‘What have I done?' She leaned back against the kitchen counter onto her hands, then looked up at him. ‘I'm sorry. Maybe I should have made my intentions clearer. I thought we were simply going with the flow, finally letting loose. I didn't think you would assume this would be the start of something official.' She rubbed her forehead.

‘I didn't assume, but how can it not be, after such an amazing night?'

Her hand twitched, like it wanted to reach put but she wouldn't let it. ‘It was amazing. I'll never forget it.'

‘Then let's not forget. Why dismiss something that feels so right.'

‘It also feels so wrong, Zac.'

He pushed out a breath and turned away from her. ‘Not for me.'

‘You didn't have my upbringing,' she said.

He turned back. ‘And you didn't have mine,' he stated. ‘You may not have had the best male role model, the best family dynamics, but you had a family. I would have killed for that.'

She sighed. ‘I know, I know. I'm lucky. And my mum has always been there for me. But one night of passion doesn't automatically mean a relationship is going to work. Or that …'

That I won't go back on the booze.
‘That I won't always be the man I am now.'

Her eyes met his and confirmed his statement.

He should leave. He should save his dignity and let her be.

‘I'll give you some space,' he said, turning for the door.

‘Zac,' she said. ‘I mean it, it
was
amazing. I'm not downplaying it, I'm just—'

‘It's okay.' He held out his hands. ‘No need to explain any further.'

He opened the door and let himself out, while she hung loosely at the door, as though unsaid words had dashed out the door and she was trying to find them.

But he caught them.

He stopped, turned, and looked at her in the doorway, the morning breeze swishing her wavy hair around her face.

Stuff it. He knew what he felt, and he needed to say it.

He went back up to the porch. ‘April. Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith. Some things are more important than the fear we attach to them. Feelings like this are rare, they need to be expressed, acted on, explored.'

‘Feelings are fleeting,' she rebutted.

‘So is life.'

Her silence at his remark only spurred him on. Showed him she was worth fighting for. She knew all too well how true that was, and deep down, he knew that she knew that some things were worth the risk.

‘Love is what's most important, April.'

Her eyes widened. ‘Love?'

‘Yes, love.' He kept his gaze on hers. ‘I love you, dammit.'

She gripped the side of the doorframe. ‘You … you love me? But we've only known each other, what, six months? And we're opposites. And you know how I feel about alcoholism. So if anything you should hate me, or at least be mildly irritated by me.'

‘Opposites attract.'

‘So do like-minded people.' She crossed her arms.

‘We're also like-minded in some ways. We both like cats. And saying what's on our mind. And cupcakes. And candles.' He attempted a smile but she was clearly not prepared for this conversation, as she found itches to scratch and non-existent bugs to flit away and clothing to adjust. ‘Look, I understand your hesitation, and I certainly don't hate you for it. I'm not even mildly irritated. It's a natural response after what you've been through.' He stepped a little closer. ‘The only thing that irritates me is how you push aside any real emotions, any real possibility that we could be good together.'

‘I'm trying to do the right thing,' she said. ‘You should be with someone more stable, more understanding, more spiritual, more supportive. You shouldn't love me, Zac.'

‘Can't help it.' He shrugged in resignation, then glanced up at the roof of the porch. ‘Love. It's completely illogical and random in the most perfectly imperfect way.'

As he processed his own words she froze, eyes on him, and he noticed a slight softening of her brow. ‘You're right.' He thought she was going to grab him and kiss him like she'd done the night before. But she stepped backwards into her house. ‘It's illogical. And I can't risk it. Sorry.' She slowly began closing the door, and when he gave a small nod in forced resignation, she let it close completely.

He turned and looked at the horizon in the distance. His legs urged to run there, go wherever they would take him. But they only wanted to walk through that door and talk sense into her. But he'd done enough talking. She could no longer hear the truth in his voice.

But he could write.

And sometimes, the written word was more powerful.

He dashed home and got out a piece of paper and a pen, and let words tumble onto the page. Not as poetry, but as a declaration, a last chance plea, a … something, to let it all out in simple but significant honesty.

I'm ready. I've been waiting, preparing, but I'm ready—now. I just want to feel again. Feel all those crazy overpowering feelings that make no sense and yet fill me with such clarity and purpose that I wonder how I ever lived without them. You've given me a glimpse of that. But I want more. I want a full-on, eyes wide open, heart and soul exposed experience. I want to be immersed in the sensations that being around you triggers, surrender to the intense emotions that will either be my saviour or my downfall. Right now, I don't care which, I just want to feel. Feel life in all its glorious chaos pumping through my body, my heart, my soul. And I want to feel all of it with you.

He folded it up, placed it in an envelope, and taped a small flower to the front. Then he walked out and put it in her letterbox. He felt like knocking on the door and throwing it at her, but that would …
hang on …
he glanced at her house, the door closed to the world and to him. He inched the envelope out of the narrow slit of the letterbox and walked to the front door. He knocked.

It inched opened. ‘Zac,' she began, her voice with a downward inflection.

‘Here,' he blurted, shoving the envelope through the door's opening and letting it fall to the floor, then walking off the porch once again. He wasn't going to wait for her to read it, or to throw him out again. He was going home to wash his sheets, clean the house, and maybe build some outdoor cat play equipment for Juliet with the timber he had leftover from winter. If she wanted to see him, she knew where he bloody well was.

April had almost given in. Twice. When he'd so honestly declared his love for her, and then after reading his letter. If you could call it a letter. It was like he'd blurted everything out and hoped it made sense. It did. She'd never known someone so honest and expressive with his emotions. Kyle had told her he loved her, but never like that. Zac was so intense, she could hardly take it. Didn't know if she could take it even if he weren't a recovering alcoholic.

An uncomfortable feeling twisted inside, like there was a knot she couldn't untie and it kept catching every time she took a breath. He'd put his heart and soul on the line, and though she had taken it for a ride, she'd literally closed the door in front of him. It was all too much, she had barely processed their night together even two days later, and couldn't even start to process the possibility of anything more than their brief interlude.