At Home With The Templetons by McInerney Monica

Author:McInerney, Monica [McInerney, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781742673882
Amazon: 1742673880
Publisher: Bolinda Publishing Pty Ltd
Published: 2011-01-05T00:00:00+00:00

together, had a day trip to Brighton. They’d kissed and done a little more than kissing, but Gracie hadn’t wanted to go any further. Barely a month into their dating, she’d realised they’d run out of things to say to each other. She’d put off breaking up with him, not wanting to hurt his feelings, and then felt only relief when he broke up with her first.

But everything that had been missing when she was with Owen - real attraction, curiosity, constant conversation, physical longing, yes, longing - was all she was feeling with Tom. She’d felt it from their first minutes together that afternoon.

She stood up abruptly. She’d been gone long enough already. Perhaps she was imagining this. Perhaps she was a little bit drunk. Perhaps it was just that it was Tom, Tom Donovan, who she’d known for so long. He was just an old family friend come to stay. She was confusing familiarity with something else. That was it.

She knew she was fooling herself from the moment she saw him again. As she walked into the living room with the wine, he turned from where he’d been putting some more wood on the open fire. She was instantly aware of every detail of him. His dark hair was damp. He was barefoot. He’d changed into faded jeans, a blue T-shirt, his arms bare, tanned, muscled. He smiled at her and her breath caught. She wasn’t imagining it. She wasn’t imagining any of it. Something was happening to her, with him, between them. Something amazing.

‘Gracie? Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’ She smiled at him. ‘Really, really fine.’ He smiled back. ‘That’s good. Really, really good.’

From that second, she knew what was going to happen. She longed for it to happen. It was as if all the conversations they’d had as children, the games they’d played, the kindness he had shown her, the letters they’d written in the years since, the photographs he’d taken especially for her, everything, all of it, had been leading to this moment when the two of them were there alone in the room, illuminated only by the firelight.

Did she sit down on the sofa first, or did he? Did he open his arms or did she? Afterwards, she couldn’t remember the detail of that exact moment, though she remembered every second of what followed. The first beautiful slow, soft kiss, every touch, every caress that followed, the unhurried, gentle slipping off of clothes, her top, his shirt, her skirt, his jeans …

She gasped when he first kissed her bare skin. ‘Will I stop?’ he whispered.

‘No, don’t. Don’t stop.’ She’d already decided. She wanted this to happen tonight, to make love with him now, tonight, his first night, their first night. It was soon, but it wasn’t too soon, not for them. More touching, more kissing, more sensation. Waves of it, building inside her. She tried to find words, could only tell him again, ‘You’re so beautiful.’

She felt the smile on his lips as he kissed her neck, her breasts, lower.

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