The coolness of the cabinet against Adaline's naked back took her breath away as she tried to calm herself. Elliot knelt beside her, hand on her shoulder, concern and guilt written on his face. Focussing her breathing, a technique she'd been learning in therapy, Adaline curled her legs into her chest and rocked. The heat of Elliot's skin on her own sent fire through her veins and a heat between her legs. It reminded her of the dream she'd had the night before, the steaminess that had caused her to wake flushed and frustrated. The soft stroke of his fingertips against her flesh sent shivers down her spine, tingles along her arms making the hairs stand on end. His face was mere inches from hers, eyes staring at her lips. Poking her tongue out slightly, she moistened her lips.
Her throat was closing up with a need she did not like. His t-shirt clung to muscles that were impossible to ignore. It took every ounce of her self-control to not reach her fingers out to touch the crevices she knew lay beneath. She felt an unnatural urge to bite him, to taste him. She gulped, pulling her head back ever so slightly but not removing eye contact. It's not him I want. It's just been a while, she tried to convince herself. She refused to accept that maybe, just maybe, Elliot still held some sexual power over her. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he tilted his head towards her, bringing their lips closer until she could feel his breath - uneven and heavy - on her face. Her heart pounded so loud she felt as though everyone in the street could know her desires. Her eyes closed as she moved forward, the gentle brush of his lips against her own almost driving her crazy.
The soft stroke of slippers sliding across the floor announced her mother's slow arrival to the kitchen. Her forehead creased as she took in the sight before her. Quickly pulling his body away from Adaline, Elliot cleared his throat and stood. Shoving his hands in his jean pockets, he leaned against the countertop, tipping his head forward in greeting. Without looking her mother in the eye, Adaline stood and raced out of the kitchen, desperate for her mother not to notice the reddening of her cheeks. How could I have been so stupid? She raged, slamming the front room door behind her and sinking onto the sofa. Of all the people in the world, why does it have to be him?
He'd seemed so nonchalant about Dottie walking in on their private moment. Her mother was not a prude, nor was she an idiot. Adaline was certain her mother knew what had almost occurred, even if the pair heavily denied it. Not that she would admit to anything mind. No, it was all caused by her fall. She wouldn't have dared entertain such foolishness with Elliot had she been entirely herself. Feeling somewhat better at her talk with herself, Adaline straightened.
Her stomach was still a knotted mess, but the heat within her thighs had cooled off enough to ignore. She'd never felt desire like that with Christopher, and her body's reaction consumed her with guilt. She'd loved him, truly loved him, and had been satisfied enough in the bedroom. But that passion, that uncontrollable lust for one another, she now realised she missed more than she wanted to admit. Though their sex life had been alive, neither one able to spend more than a few nights fully clothed, Adaline had always craved something more, something her husband just could not or perhaps would not provide.
Whenever she'd tried to open a discussion about introducing new things to their sex life, nothing so drastic as another person but a new toy, some bondage or a bit of role play to really spice things up, Christopher had shut the conversation down and trudged into the spare room to paint. Vanilla, that's what her best friend had jokingly called him one morning over coffee when Adaline couldn't stand the boredom any longer and vented. She had wished that just once he would try something new, move away from the mundane missionary and doggy position he always clung to. Hell, she would have given anything just to ride him, to pin him down and take full control.
That's why I'm so horny, she thought. I need something real, something thrilling. As soon as the thought finished, Adaline was riddled with guilt once more. She needed to stop thinking about sex! It was far too soon. She needed to distract her mind and her body. She could hear Elliot and her mother chattering in the kitchen, their voices hushed as though they were trying not to disturb her.
"Fell off the.....trying to check.... I'm sorry," Elliot's voice sounded small and wounded. Letting out a sigh, Adaline began her return to the kitchen to save the man from unnecessary misery at the hands of her overprotective mother. Dottie scowled at her daughter as Adaline began making coffee for the trio. With his eyes fixed on the ground, Elliot resembled a child being scolded for making a mess.
In an instant Adaline sympathised with him, wanted to hold him and tell him everything would be okay. She would have had her mother not moved herself between them. Arms folded across her chest, Dottie silently dared her daughter to cross her. It had been a long time since Adaline had seen this level of disappointment in her mother's face, and it pained her. It had always felt words to disappoint her parents than it ever had to anger them. Anger was temporary. The disappointment hung in the air like a foul smell for weeks.
"I'm going to call Dean and Mary shortly. I thought it might be nice for us all to spend Christmas together, especially now Josh is old enough to really understand," Adaline began, holding a steaming cup out to her mother, who took it without speaking. "How much does Dean know about your illness, mum? I don't want to tell him anything you don't want him to know."
"Why not? You're happy to do anything else I'd rather you didn't," her mother snapped, slamming the mug onto the counter.
Boiling liquid landed on her hand and down her leg. Dottie screamed out in pain, pulling her trouser leg away from her skin. Rushing to her side, Elliot grabbed Dottie's hand and stuck it under the cold faucet. Tears meandered down the deep etches on Dottie's face as her papery skin blistered instantly. She glared at Adaline as Elliot bandaged her hand, silently blaming her daughter for her pain. She tutted at Elliot as he tried to persuade her to allow him to take her to the hospital to ensure the damage was only superficial.
Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the room, her footsteps loud against the steps as she headed to her bedroom, eager to get out of her wet clothes. Adaline sighed. She'd hoped the mention of Joshua would ease the tension in the room. Risking a sideways glance, she noticed Elliot staring at her, a look of need and sympathy in his eyes. How was it possible for one person to have so many emotions at once? Adaline could feel the familiar pang in her stomach as his gaze lowered to where her stomach ever so slightly peeked from beneath her top, hip bone prominent.
"I - I need to go," Adaline whispered, pulling her gaze away.
Elliot stepped forward, close enough for the moment to be intimate without the pair risking another awkward encounter with Dottie. Taking her hand, Elliot stroked her palm with his thumb.
"You feel it too, you know you do," he said, moving his hands further up her arm.
Adaline gasped, the ability to speak suddenly evading her. His hand continued to move until it cradled her face. She turned her head into his palm, inhaling the scent of alcohol hand sanitiser. It smelled too clean, like a hospital. Not the pleasant soap smell Adaline loved. It made her think of being in the hospital corridor, crying and screaming as doctors and nurses tried to console her. Made her think of Christopher's body almost unrecognisable beneath a white linen sheet as she told a police officer she recognised him, that he truly was her husband and it hadn't all been some awful mistake.
She remembered the hustle and bustle as everyone continued around her, patients coming to and from, visitors baring gifts and flowers. Another woman, a little older than Adaline, had been sitting silently crying, oblivious to those around her. She too had lost a loved one, Adaline had discovered, a child who had choked on a grape. A grape. Something so unexceptional had taken something so amazing from the woman in mere moments. Adaline's heart had ached for the stranger, so she sat beside her, held out her hand and sobbed with her.
When a man had come to take the woman home, he had found them cuddled together, crying as one person. He'd smiled sadly at Adaline before prising the woman out of her grip and almost carried her out of the hospital. Adaline had never seen the woman again. For a moment she wondered how she was doing, if she was having existential crises like Adaline or if she was grieving like a normal person. How does a normal person grieve?
She couldn't take the smell anymore, couldn't stand to be touched by him anymore. She needed to breathe. Pushing herself out of his grasp, Adaline ran. Out of the front door and into the street, slippers slapping on the sole of her foot causing her to stumble and trip. Kicking them off, she ran faster, ignoring the stabbing pain of the gravel. She ran until she could run no more. Bending with her hands on her knees, Adaline tried to gain her breath. She needed him gone. And sooner rather than later.
YOU ARE READING
Fairy Tale of New Lawke (NaNoWriMo)
Romance||In the process of editing offline|| Adaline hated New Lawke. Hated the constant reminder of Elliot. He was the reason she had fled over 10 years ago to start her life anew. Now recently widowed and with the news of her mother's terminal illness A...
