Cross the Line

Part Sixteen

Dinner with Patrick and Lucinda was a strange affair in Naomi’s eyes. This unaddressed sexual tension still sat there like an elephant in the room, as did the ‘L’ word, and she found it really difficult to concentrate on the everyday topics of conversation. But Conor remained charming, the epitome of a perfect date, but was perfect what anyone REALLY wanted? Naomi contemplated that as she visited the bathroom later that evening. Life wasn’t perfect, and she wondered whether she might in fact rather the bad boy who’d left London with her. Then she’d glance over at him, the killer smile and the memory of the ‘L’ bomb and her heart melted all over again.

Patrick was witty and as charming as his friend, and there was no difficulty in creating conversations with Lucinda, so any awkwardness was due to her own issues with Conor and nothing else. Regardless of that, Naomi felt anything but neglected, she had no complaints. The food was perfect, the wine divine and the company perfect all things considered.

After dinner the men led the women through the hotel to the ballroom, where predominantly Conor’s family partied for a final night. His mother as usual sat flanked by his sisters, the remainder of the immediate family weren’t far away, then there were the close friends, extended family and neighbours. By now, Naomi was familiar with most of them, so as such was accepted as part of them.

The ante seemed to up as the evening developed. Conor wasn’t sure when the flirting turned into a full come on, but it did. The secret looks as they circulated became lecherous gawps; occasional touches became more grope than fondle. Now it was all he could do to control his libido, and hide his excitement from his mother!

Naomi was warm all over, as she waltzed with Conor’s granddad she kept meeting his ‘come to bed’ eyes over the old man’s shoulders, and each time the warmth, the passion, the desire seemed to grow. Every time one of them was free, searching for the other, they were disappointed to find them dancing with a friend or relative. It was so typical.

Patrick was a great dancer, or rather lacked any inhibitions, which was a great facet when you were dancing to ‘Never Gonna give you up’ by Rick Astley. When it changed to ‘I just called to say I love you,’ Naomi pleaded aching feet and Patrick escorted her away from the dancing. Conor was spinning Lucinda around the dance floor, so she waited until she caught his attention before she crooked a finger beckoning him to follow her. There was no denying her intention. His eyes lit up, but she knew he’d see out the dance, etiquette prevailing. So as she left the room she glanced over her shoulder, smiling when she saw she was the centre of his attention.

Back in their room she freshened up then stripped out of the clothes she’d worn all day. In her bag she found the third set of underwear he’d bought her prior to the trip, she slid into the lace hipster panties and tight supportive transparent lace camisole, wrapping his own white dress shirt around her. She was sat in an armchair facing the door when he burst in holding an unopened bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Standing she walked slowly and deliberately towards him, “you were saying?”

Conor was silent for a few seconds, the unbuttoned shirt did little to hide her lissom body, and the fact it was almost on display spoke volumes. But history meant he wasn’t going to presume anything. He’d cocked up enough this weekend and he couldn’t imagine her forgiving him AGAIN, “Umm...” she’d never seen him so nervous.

He shook his head as he took everything in, then pulled her into his arms to kiss her long and hard. The champagne and glasses he still held, dug into her back but she was uncaring. She just needed to fuel her need to be as close to him as she possibly could.

When they eventually parted he put the drink down, and sat on the sofa, pushing the shirt off her shoulders to admire her. “Best money I ever spent!” he murmured leisurely looking her up and down. “Pity I want it all off isn’t it?”