Her Melting Point

Mathematics of the Sense

It got really bad - or really, really good, depending on how one looked at it - really, really, really quickly. She was just glad that they were half-hidden by a partition, and hopefully, there were no children in the pub - and then she stopped caring. Alexander Fergusson kissed like he did everything else: with focus, determination, and irresistible attention to detail. She felt his tongue tease her lips open; and she arched into him, sinking her nails into his thigh, into which she'd pressed her hand to rise to reach his mouth.

Suddenly, he squeezed her shoulder - so painfully that she yelped into their kiss - and pushed her away.

"There's a bedroom–" he growled. "Bedrooms. It's a hostel. So either we go, or I need– to leave."

Jackie blinked, trying to gather some semblance of wits.

"What– "

"I can't stay near you," he rasped out. "I thought I could just kiss you. But I can't."

"But we've got all this food, and–" She heard what she was saying a second later. "Oh god, I don't even–"

Uncertain incoherent mumbling seemed to be all she was capable of; and he pulled her in again. Apparently, having spent a night with him had changed nothing: once again, like on her windowsill, she was being swept away by his 'ardour.' The experiences of said night weren't helping her composure either, since now she knew what could happen once she stopped worrying and let herself enjoy it fully - enjoy him fully.

She slightly pulled back, her hand on the back of his head, holding him in place; and she whispered into his ear, "Let's go."

He jerked away from her.

"Go wait for me," he barked at her and nodded towards the door further in the back of the lounge. "Through there."

He picked up his bag, and she realised that he was covering his tenting trousers with it. Her cheeks flushed. She could stop, think about the madness that she was allowing to overtake her, and the food, and how everyone would know what they were up to, and that he was fifteen years her younger, and the logistics of it. She'd always been the one to book tickets and rooms, first, when married to Gabe, and obviously for herself, before and after.

Instead, she climbed out of the booth, dashed towards the door he'd pointed at, and pushed it open. She was now in a small hall, with two toilets; a fire exit; and stairs, with a sigh that said 'Hostel' and an arrow at about 130 degrees.

Her knees were shaking; and then the door behind her flew open.

"Second floor."

Alexander grasped her hand and ran up the stairs, skipping every other step, towing her after him. All Jackie had left was to keep up. A corridor flashed in front of her eyes; the magnetic lock beeped and clicked; and he pushed her in. His bag hit the floor - and Jackie jumped at him.

***

"God, this is so embarrassing," she announced in an utterly pleased voice.

"What's embarrassing?" he asked.

She lay across the bed; he was using her backside as a pillow, his feet near the headboard. The actual pillows were scattered on the floor, mixed with their clothes. They'd taken them off after the first time, which they'd had on the floor, pretty much fully dressed, on the cover that he'd dragged off the bed for them. Her anxiety hadn't kicked in up until now, since he hadn't given her a break, and started kissing and touching everywhere, while unzipping and unbuttoning, and opening the second condom. He rubbed his cheek to her buttock; and she tensed.

"Asking for the key, and leaving so suddenly," she answered. "And our food is still there."

"Kadir will pack it," he answered.