Before I knew it, I was packing frantically, so frantically that I didn’t notice Jo standing in the door frame.

‘You leaving, love?’ she asked rather superfluously, when she saw I finally did notice her.

I nodded, which made more tears roll down my cheeks.

‘What was it he said?’ she folded her arms and looked stern.

‘Oh, nothing, he’s… I heard him and Bree fall out really badly in the car on their way back to the hotel; don’t think they’ll be getting married now…’ I wiped at my nose. ‘He said he’s coming back to Australia, said he needed to be home.’

‘And so you’re leaving, because…?’ Jo asked, incredulously. ‘He’s coming back, Taz. Aren’t you happy? Don’t you love him?’

‘God, yes, Jo, I love him... But I heard him say he needs to be alone, he needs time to think. He’s been with Bree on and off for so long, no doubt he will need time to get over breaking up for real now… he’ll be heartbroken… Christ, he doesn’t really want me… Jo, he doesn’t… want me…’ I crumpled into her arms and sobbed like a child.

She was really, really sweet to me. She held me and comforted me for what seemed like an eternity, then she took me into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

‘You’re not going anywhere, the state you’re in,’ she insisted.

‘But I should get out of here before he comes back, I don’t think I can handle seeing him again, knowing that…’ tears welled up again.

‘Shh, love. We don’t know anything yet. Just calm down now, and wait until the two of you see each other, then take it from there.’ She handed me a wad of paper towels and laid a hand on my shoulder as I blew my nose and rubbed my face dry.

‘I must look a fright,’ I muttered.

‘Taryn, you’re lovely. Even with your nose and your eyes all red,’ Jo smiled and ran her hand through my hair. My mousy hair. I sobbed again.

Jo left to run a bath for me. When I came out of the tub she combed my hair and massaged my skull. She fed me a chicken salad, which at first I didn’t want – my stomach was in a knot – but which was so delicious that I just had to finish it. She looked after me all day, all the while trying to talk me out of leaving Nana.

I was just beginning to calm down; I was reading a magazine, sipping my umpteenth mug of tea, when my mobile rang. I had left it on the bed in the guest room like it was contaminated; didn’t want to touch it any more. Its ringing however was no less insistent.

‘You’re not going to get that?’ Jo asked.

I shook my head. The ringing stopped. My heart became a lead ball in my chest.

Then it started again. Jo got up and dashed to the guest room. I heard her pick up: ‘Quent, love, it’s your Mum.’

Silence, as she listened to what he said. She was coming back into the kitchen.

‘No, she’s here. She’s a bit upset from overhearing what you and Brianna were talking about. Where are you, love? You sound really strange.’ Silence. ‘Quent? Talk to me, sweetness. Quent?’ Jo walked into the kitchen, shaking her head. She held out the phone to me, but I wouldn’t take it.

‘Taz, take the phone,’ she said.

I shook my head again, violently.

‘Take the phone and talk to him, there’s something wrong with him. I just know it. He’s not going to tell me, I know him too well, he’s too stubborn for that.’ She held the talk end of the phone to her mouth and said into it: ‘Yes, you heard me, you’re too stubborn for that.’

That made me smile.

She held out the mobile again and I took it, shivering. I swallowed. ‘Quent?’ I said softly.

‘Taz?’ he sounded raspy and shaky, ‘Tazzie?’

‘Wh… what are you doing?’

‘Tryin’ to get on a plane, any fuckin’ plane, in the right direction. I’m at LAX, in an airliner office. There was this lady took pity on me, I look like a bloody freak, black eye and scratches on my face; got the shivers like I’ve seen a fuckin’ ghost... I just got a taxi, straight from the hotel; made it here....’

‘Oh… Is that safe, for you? Don’t you need your security guys?’ I hung on to my mobile like it was a lifeline, now that I heard his voice again.

‘Uh, no, I got a hoodie and shades, and I just…’ I heard him shiver, ‘…bloody hell, I wish I would just stop shaking, I’m an embarrassment… It’s just a matter of switching off, pulling my head in and people don’t notice all that much. I wasn’t Quentin Finch, you know. Just Quent.’

‘I had no idea you could do that… Quent, what... Are you ill? Why are you shaking so?’

‘I’m… ah, I’m, God, I’ll tell you when I see you, it’s really… bad, what happened… I’m, I can’t say over the phone…’ He sounded incoherent, feverish. ‘Oh, Tah-Tazzie…’ he suddenly blurted out, as if he convulsed and started crying. I was really worried and I didn’t notice my own face was wet with tears again until Jo handed me another wad of paper towels.

I wiped my face and I heard him wipe his, repeating a muffled ‘Bloody hell... Bloody... hell...’ over and over.

Then, over on his end, a door opened and I heard a female voice ask: ‘Are you alright, Mr. Finch? Would you like me to get you a coffee or are you sticking to mineral water? I think I found a seat for you on a flight to London that leaves in fifteen minutes. The seats right next to yours are empty, so you’ll have some privacy, but it’s economy class. Not what you’re used to, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh that’s just...’ Quent sighed to regain composure, but still he sounded very shaky, ‘Just great, thanks a million, I don’t care about flyin’ economy, ‘s’long as I’m just getting home... A coffee would be nice, reckon, maybe I’ll warm up a bit...’

‘Oh, that’s fine, then, I’ll confirm your seat. But first let me get you that coffee... You’ll just have time for that and then I’ll take you to the gate. You don’t have any luggage, nothing at all?’ It sounded like she was a little older, and couldn’t make up her mind if she fancied him or wanted to mother him.

‘No, ‘s just me,’ he said to her.

‘That’s fine,’ she repeated reassuringly, then went on: ‘is that your fiancée on the phone? It’s always good to have our loved ones being there for us in difficult times, isn’t it? There you go, you take sugar?’

‘Thank you, no,’ Quent said, and I heard him drink his coffee. ‘Taz?’ he went quietly, ‘are you still...’

‘I’m here,’ I quickly put in.

I heard the airliner lady say: ‘You’re a lucky young man you know, getting married to Brianna Roberts! She’s adorable!’

‘Oh, she’s not, I’m not...’ Quentin said to her in between sips, ‘that was all just made up by journalists, ma’am, you wouldn’t believe what they come up with sometimes... Brianna and me aren’t... No, I’m just talking to...’

My breath caught. What was he going to say? My Mum’s mousy-haired pommie writer pal?

‘...my mate Tazzie, she’s back home in Oz. I will see her soon, hey, Taz?’ he continued to me. ‘I’m sorry for all this... interrupting, but this lady is just squeezing me onto a flight to London, and I...’ his breathing went funny for a second.

‘Quent?’

‘Yeah, I’m OK... I’m just... hung over from yesterday night, reckon... Trying to keep this coffee down... I’m...  keeping it together. I’m keeping it together, now.’  He said it to himself more than to me, I thought. He went on: ‘I should get my arse on this plane... I’ll ring soon as they let me off again. OK?’

‘Yes.’

‘And, Taz?’ I heard him get up.

‘Yeah?’

‘Please, please promise me to pick up your mobile when I ring you? I don’t think I’ll make it otherwise, luvvie, I’m really...’

‘I promise,’ I whispered quickly.

‘Love you,’ he whispered right back, then immediately after, he killed the connection.

I sat there, looking at my phone again like a nutter. A single tear still hesitated in the corner of my eye.

‘What was wrong with him, Taz, did he say?’  Jo was very worried.

‘He... he said he couldn’t say over the phone; he did say he was hung over from yesterday night. Apparently he had had too much to drink...’ I felt myself blush a deep crimson as my mind replayed what had happened between me and him, even though we had been so far apart. Jo looked at me funny for an instant, but she didn’t comment. I continued, ‘He’s going to take a plane to London, there was a lady who found him a seat at very short notice – he’s coming back in a hurry, just like that. Without security, he’s got no luggage, he just...  apparently he just stormed into the airport and tried for the first flight out in roughly the right direction. He’s got to fly economy, too...’

‘Oh, he’ll not care about such things,’ Jo said, smiling, ‘once he gets it into his head that he’s got to get something done. So he’ll be in London, in... How long?’

I got up, went in to the guest room and booted up. It didn’t take me long to find out. ‘About ten hours, Jo,’ I called back to the kitchen. ‘And from London on at least another twenty...’

Jo appeared in the door. ‘So if he’s got a bit of luck with his connections, and he can book a heli from Sydney straight away he can make it here by tomorrow evening. Christ, he’ll be ragged from travelling that long. I’d better make sure I’ll have some food ready for him. Did he say he’d phone in again, let you know how he’s faring?’

‘Yeah... he said he would ring from London... he even said “love you” before he hung up...’ I fought the tears again and got up from my seat, ‘Oh, Jo, what do I have to do now? I just don’t understand, what does he want...’

Jo hugged me again and whispered to me: ‘Just have a little more patience, Taz; I think all will be well in the end.’

I could only sigh and bite my lip.

~*~

The next ten hours probably were the hardest of my life up until then. I fidgeted. I didn’t know what to do. I sat down, I got up. I paced. Sat down again. Aargh! Why did time suddenly decide to crawl?

Jo went into the guest room with a stack of clean towels and came out again holding up Quent’s flannel, a mischievous smile on her face that suddenly made me see the resemblance between mother and son.

I blushed again.

She came over to me and laid the flannel around my shoulders. ‘Go on, put it on, love, I’ll wash it when he gets back.’

I did as she said and pulled it tight around me, stroking the soft, worn fabric. How in the world would I manage the next ten, no, let me see, nine and a half hours?

In the end it was easy. Sadie came into the kitchen and we chatted the afternoon away, then it was time for dinner, then Jo took it upon herself to inform the lot that Quentin was on his way home. The wedding was off (which elicited a quickly subdued cheer from the farm hands) and we expected him back by tomorrow evening. A bigger, more heartfelt cheer. A couple of pats on the back for me – as if it was clear to them that Quentin and I were... That we would... I couldn’t even find a word for it and bore it stone-faced, though my insides were beginning to flutter anew at the idea of seeing him again. Maybe Jo was right and all would be well, in the end...

Quentin rang me from Heathrow, as promised. Apparently he had had the chance to phone Ron before leaving LA, and Ron had arranged the rest of the trip for him. He didn’t have to worry about his connecting flight, all he had to do was pick up his ticket to Sydney and board. The next stretch would be a little more comfortable – flying economy hadn’t been fun. But surprisingly, no one had noticed it was him and he had even managed to get some sleep.

He sounded a little better, he wasn’t shaking so much any more, but I could tell there was something that worried him immensely. Something that ate away at him. And I of course had no idea what it could be, so it took me no time at all to convince myself that he was fretting over having to tell me... that he’d had a change of mind, a change of heart. I was suddenly so certain probably never hear him say Tazzie-luv ever again, and it was all I could do not to start blubbering again, even when we were still on the phone.

Much too soon, he had to hang up again – his flight was leaving. I sat, freaking out in my insecurity. Jo took one good look at me and then rooted around in a cupboard, emerging with a bottle of Laphroaig.

‘You know this stuff?’ she asked. ‘It’s for emergencies only, that’s why I hide it here.’

I nodded. ‘In one of my former lives I dated a bloke from Scotland. He taught me to drink it. I hated it at first, but it grows on you.’

Jo smiled and poured me a generous triple shot. ‘Drink up, love, and get some sleep. Tomorrow evening you’ll see him. All will be well, trust me.’

~*~

The next day, after dinner, everyone grew quiet. One by one, they all left the table, going about their business, as if everyone sensed that they shouldn’t be around when Quentin got back. As if important things were afoot. Only Jo stayed right where she was.

My heart beat so loudly that I was sure everyone could hear it. I caught a glimpse of my face in a mirror and I looked pale and drawn, stretched too thin. As fidgety as I had been the day before, I felt like I could hardly move now, as if sitting still was the smartest, safest thing to do. I was still wearing his flannel, over my own clothes, and I hid in it as if it would protect me.

And then, earlier than expected - it was only about nine in the evening - Jo and I heard the heli engine chop its way to the landing pad. I froze and couldn’t even bring myself to look out the window and watch it land, but Jo put her hands on my shoulders and gently turned me around on the stool on which I was sitting.

I saw the heli touch down, a mirror image of when Quentin came to Nana with Bree. The door opened and out he came, alone this time, head down. The downdraft tousled his hair and he dipped his head a little further, then gave the pilot a curt wave and took a couple of quick steps to get off the heli pad. The chopper lifted off again and Quentin made his way over to the main house, head still down, shoulders hunched.

Only when he came closer did I see the state he was in. He had a big bruise on his face and a couple of nasty blotches and scratches on his cheek and  neck. His clothes were travel worn and grimy and he looked absolutely awful, but I had not a doubt in my mind he was the most beautiful human being on the face of the earth.

He lifted his head, saw his Mum and me looking at him through the window and lunged forward into a tired trot.

‘Come,’ said Jo, and she pulled me up and towards the back door. We opened it as Quentin reached us and he fell against us, wrapping an arm around both his Mum and me.

‘Thank God...’ he sighed.

Jo kissed his cheek and stroked some of his messy, unwashed hair out of his face. ‘Glad you’re back, sweetness,’ she said. ‘You and Taz talk a little and then come back into the kitchen, eh, I’ll fix you some proper food. I shudder to think what you must have been eating the last day and a half.’

He gave her a wobbly smile and said: ‘Thanks, Mum, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat anything right now...’

‘Oh well,’ said Jo, and she stepped away. ‘Just give us a shout, love.’ She patted his shoulder one last time, then turned and went inside.

Quentin and I were alone.

He still had one arm wrapped around me, the other hung limply by his side. His head half rested on my shoulder and his face was turned away, as if he didn’t want to look at me. Or maybe he didn’t want me to look at him. I felt surprisingly little of him; it was as if he was so numb, his emotions were almost completely subdued.

I put my nose against the back of his neck and sniffed. Oh, he smelled like the most wonderful homecoming, like he should be part of everything I did from now on. Like he belonged here, where I could smell him.

‘Don’t, Taz, I’m so filthy, I smell awful,’ he muttered against my shoulder.

‘No you don’t,’ I whispered in his ear. I felt him tremble at that and finally his other arm came up and around my waist. He lifted his head and at last, he looked at me, his eyes dull and tired. His bruise was ugly and swollen and his cheek looked painful. Had Bree done that to him in the car after the court case? 

‘Tazzie, you won’t...’ he swallowed and licked his dry lips, ‘you won’t be so chuffed to see me once you’ve heard what I have to tell you.’ His voice was strained and he closed his eyes, as if looking at me took too much out of him.

I reached up, put my hand against his cheek and stroked it gently, avoiding the scabbed–over scratches as much as possible. He flinched an ever so tiny bit, so I stroked his hair back and softly scratched behind his ear. ‘I’m just really happy that you’ve made it safely home... you must be so tired...’ I said softly, wishing for him to relax.

He leaned into my hand and his breath came long and slow, as if he’d been holding it for a very long time. He sagged against me a bit. I didn’t think at all, I just stood on tiptoe and touched my lips to his in an infinitely soft kiss.

He responded immediately, gathering me in tighter and kissing me back hungrily, making a small, desperate sound. His mouth was so wonderfully warm and soft, and his tongue teased my lips until I opened up and met him for more. I felt myself go liquid, warm and boneless from wanting him, from having him near, but then, all of a sudden, he started to shake so badly that he broke away from our kiss. He took a couple of uneven breaths, his lips close to mine, eyes still shut, then suddenly he hid his face in my neck and grabbed me even tighter, so tight that I was half lifted off the ground.

‘Quent... what is it...’ said I, breathless, stroking his hair, ‘what’s troubling you so, my love...’

‘My love...’ he repeated it muffled against my neck and shuddered again.

‘What is it, won’t you look at me?’ I gently pulled the locks at the nape of his neck, trying to get him to show me his face.

He slowly emerged and I saw that his eyes were moist. ‘Tazzie, you’re so sweet, I can’t believe...’ and now he stroked my cheek with the back of his hand and he swallowed again, not knowing how to continue. ‘You’re wearing my shirt,’ he said after a bit, with the tiniest hint of a smile.

I nodded and whispered: ‘Smells of you.’

We looked at each other. He kept on stroking my cheek with such tenderness, and I caught his hand, held it in place and turned my head so I could kiss it. He then leaned in and kissed my hand holding his, and for one tiny slice in time it seemed like an ancient ritual, like a pact between us was sealed.

‘Maybe we should go in, hey, Taz?’ he ventured, his voice raw. ‘I really need to... get cleaned up, you know, I feel so fuckin’ awful, can’t believe you want to get this close to me without hosing me down first.’

We slowly let go of each other and I led him in, holding his hand. I was so full of conflicting emotions. I was unbearably happy to see him again but at the same time I felt utterly insecure about what he was feeling for me, about what he was going to have to tell me, what had him so worried. And why was he so quiet in my mind, why couldn’t I feel him?

He didn’t want to eat, no matter what Jo said to convince him otherwise; instead, he went upstairs for a wash and some clean clothes. I watched him go with a heavy heart. Just having him leave the room was a physical hardship to me. I shook my head and sat down.

‘Jo, I don’t think I’ve ever...’ I said, a note of wretchedness in my voice.

‘What, sweetness,’ said Jo, placing a mug of tea in front of me.

‘I’ve just never been so in love before. It’s like, it really hurts, in here,’ I rubbed at the spot where my heart was, ‘when he so much as walks out of the room. That’s ridiculous, isn’t it?’

‘No, Taz, it isn’t ridiculous, it’s beautiful. It truly is; I’ve never heard any of the girls he’s been with so far say something like that about him. About him, not whoever he is when he’s... out there.’ She motioned vaguely in the direction of the window. ‘I’m really happy you feel that way about my son, love, I know you will be good for him. Help him find his peace of mind, his happiness. His home.’ She put her hands on my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. Then, she turned back to the counter and made another mug of tea. ‘Here, Taz, go on, take this up to him. Maybe he won’t eat, but I’m sure he could do with a brew.’

I nodded, took my own mug and his, and carefully made my way upstairs.

I found him in the room he had been staying in with Bree; he had showered and put on clean trackies. His top half was still bare and he had his head hidden in a large towel, drying his hair with one hand. There were a few drops of water still on his shoulder. I stared, mesmerized. He was so beautiful, his skin was honey golden and his chest was lightly furred, still glistening from showering. Muscled, but naturally so, and just the right amount of padding to make him cuddly. I couldn’t look away.

He gave his head another good rub, reached up with his other hand and winced, then pulled the towel down around his neck, looking at me earnestly. ‘Knew you were there, Taz,’ he said softly, padding his way over barefoot to where I stood with our teas. ‘I just felt you were standing there.’ His damp hair was a mess, hanging in his eyes, and he raked his hands through it, wincing again as he brought his right hand up.

‘What’s with your arm?’ I asked, handing him his mug.

He took it and blew in it, then drank. ‘Oh, that’s good. Missed that; most Americans haven’t the faintest clue how to make tea. It’s my shoulder,’ this in answer to my question, ‘I think I sprained it.’ He gave it a cautious roll and pulled a face.

I concentrated. I should be feeling him, he was only an arm’s length away, drinking his tea, but no matter how I tried, I felt only the faintest buzz coming off him. Nowhere near what it was like before. But at least it was something; when we had been outside earlier I hadn’t felt a thing. Maybe now that he had showered and was beginning to feel human again, it would... Or maybe I had just imagined it all, maybe it had all been a trick of the light. A mirage. The emotions, the heat I had felt... Could I have been so desperate, to imagine something like that?

‘Is it from the, um, fight with that reporter, the shoulder?’ I asked thinly, trying to keep the conversation going.

‘No... no it isn’t,’ he said, sighing like he had to get started on something he wasn’t in the least bit looking forward to. ‘Come, Taz, come sit with me, erm,’ he looked around the room, ‘here, on the bed. I’d better have it out now, while I still have the guts to do it. I’m... not sure how you’ll feel about me when I’m done, you’ll probably think I’m insane, or a fuckin’ pervert, or worse... but I just... need to get it out. Need to be honest with you.’

I sat down, my heart beating hard and sharp. This was it, then.

Quentin sat facing me, our knees touching. He took my mug and placed it carefully next to his on the bedside table. Then he took my hand in his and looked at me, his eyes a dark simmering grey.

‘Taz... When we drove off from the court building, when you and I were still on the phone... how much did you hear?’

‘Well I heard you tell Brianna that it was me on the other end, and I think I heard her make a grab for your mobile...’

He nodded.

‘Then you were screaming at each other and I felt bad, eavesdropping, so I stopped listening for a bit. But I...’ I blushed and hung my head, ‘I was just too curious, so eventually I did listen some more. It sounded like your mobile was in your pocket by then, but it was still on, and I heard you tell Bree that you wanted to end it, you wanted to go home and be on your own for a while... Then she lost it again, started screaming and maybe hitting you or something, and I thought she must have accidentally hit your phone because that’s when it went dead. Did you...’ I looked up at him again, ‘did you leave your mobile on, on purpose?’

He softly rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb and I could feel the beginnings of that strange, sensuous warmth that I had felt when he touched me before. Maybe I hadn’t imagined it after all?

‘I did, I pretended to kill the conversation but I left it on and put my phone in my breast pocket – guess I wanted to feel you near me, even as I knew Bree and me were breaking up. Isn’t that sick?’ He shook his head. ‘I’m, there must be something wrong with me, Taz, I don’t think I’m normal.’

‘Oh, Quent... Why would that be such a dreadful thing to do?’ I asked quietly, wondering if that was what he was so worked up about.

‘I wanted to feel you near ‘coz then, I don’t feel so alone, so... so adrift; reckon I just couldn’t bring myself to hang up. It must have been none too pleasant for you, having to hear what Bree said about you... I didn’t even think about that. See, I’m such a selfish bastard.’ Now it was his turn to hang his head.

‘I don’t think you selfish... Were you concerned that I would?’ I smiled cautiously and raised a hand to lay it against his damaged cheek. ‘Hey, these look really nasty; did Bree do that when you were fighting in the car?’

He flinched, but he let me touch him nonetheless. ‘No... they’re from later on... Taz, it got worse, much worse... Bree was full on at it all the way to the hotel, she just kept noising off and swatting at me – she wasn’t doin’ any real damage though; reckoned I should’ve just let her rage on for a tick, let her get it out of her system. She laid off soon as we got out the car and we made it through the lobby without any more dramas, but in the lift she started to punch me for real and by the time we reached our floor I was dodgin’... I’d’ve never taken a swing at her but she was seriously giving me the irrits by then, I mean Christ, there’s only so much humiliation I can shoulder; I was...’ He sighed and his face tensed up.

He was no logger rubbing my hand; instead he gripped it like a vice. I almost winced.

‘Go on then, what happened?’ I asked, gently as I could.

‘We... we got inside and I grabbed her and...’ He took a deep breath and blurted out, wretchedness in his eyes and voice, ‘I practically raped her, Taz. I tore her dress off and I just... At the time it was the only thing I could think of to get her to stop using me for a punch bag, other than whacking her silly, which wasn’t an option. So I put my mouth on hers, pushed her against the wall... She struggled, scratched at me...’ he hung his head again and his voice choked up. I saw a fat teardrop fall onto the bedcover. ‘She was the love of my life, we were supposed to get married and live happily ever after, but all we bloody well did was disagree... We used to have brilliant sex, but even that was off; we hadn’t been together once the whole time we were up there.... Christ, Taz, I had to fuckin’... force her... I hurt my shoulder when we banged into the wall, fighting...’ He fell silent and shuddered, dripping more tears.

‘Did she fight you the whole time then?’ I asked, touching his cheek again and making him look up at me.

Tears were leaking from his eyes. ‘N-no, she, reckon she got into it after a tick, or two, but it was a bloody nightmare because... Taz... Fuckin’ hell, I dunno how to say this to you...’

I wiped his tears away and gave him another rub behind his ear, and at that he turned his face against my wrist and leaned in like he wanted to hide. I came forward and cradled his head and he fell against me, dragging both of us down until we ended up lying on the bed, his head on my shoulder and both my arms around him. I shushed into his hair and stroked his head and shoulders. He went completely limp in my arms.

Finally he moved and leaned on an elbow to look at me, and when he spoke his voice was raw: ‘I saw your face, Tazzie, all the way through. She was supposed to be my sweetheart, my love, my life, but when I looked at her, when I was bloody... raping her, all I saw was you, and I just knew that you’d hate me for what I was doing, it was all wrong; I knew for certain that you’d want nothing to do with me once you’d know, and still I saw your face and I wanted nothing more than it was you I was with, not her...’ He fell silent and looked at me, face still wet, mouth slightly open, as if he awaited my judgment.

‘I don’t hate you, Quent,’ I stroked back his hair. ‘How could I possibly hate you?’

He dropped his gaze and continued, ‘I I bailed out quick as I could when we were done, didn’t even shower afterwards – I felt really dirty, really... soiled, but I just had to get out of there or I’d choke... So I got a taxi and went straight to the airport and rang you soon as I had a little privacy... And then when you didn’t answer, I had all these scenarios playing in my head,’ his voice was a hoarse whisper now, ‘like that Bree had somehow gotten hold of your mobile number and she’d rung you to tell you what sort of a fucking bastard I really was, and that you’d never want to talk to me again... I thought I was losing it, I was hung over and fuckin’... stressed out from the court ruling and... Bree and... you didn’t want to talk to me any more...’

‘Oh no, no, it was nothing like that...’ I quickly said. I kept touching his face, stroking his unruly hair out of his eyes. ‘I just got upset when I heard you say to Bree that you wanted to come home but you didn’t want to be with anybody; I didn’t think I’d be able to deal with that, you know, seeing you again and... not... So I started to pack like a nutter, thinking I should get out of here before you returned, but then your Mum talked me out of it, she was so sweet to me, and she made me speak to you when you phoned from the airport...’

‘Thank God she did,’ Quentin softly said, his eyes back on me. ‘When I said that, I probably meant it, I was so ragged from everything, the way the court case went and Bree constantly giving me grief, and I just wanted to be left alone, just wanted everybody and everything to go fuck themselves and leave me the fuck alone, but later on... I realized that it was you, just you... I wanted to... be with...’ he inched forward until our faces were level and he rubbed his nose against mine. ‘Tazzie-luv...’ he whispered, ‘you sure you don’t hate me?’

‘No...’ I sighed, waiting for our lips to touch.

He raised his head, alarm in his eyes. ‘You’re not sure?’

‘Oh Quentin, don’t be daft.’ I shook him gently. ‘I don’t hate you, I don’t, I don’t, I really don’t. And stop telling yourself that it was rape when she did consent – I mean, all right, it may have been a bit rough at the onset but it wasn’t like she was screaming for help, was she? And she didn’t call the pigs on you when you were done?’

‘No... no it wasn’t... she didn’t... It was me, more like... I just was really confused; for a long time I had had this dream about her, that we were meant to be, me and her, and then all of a sudden it was like I saw her in a totally different light, and all I could think about was you... Tazzie...’ he nuzzled my face again and sighed: ‘Tazz-zie...’ Then, he softly kissed the corner of my mouth and looked at me again, head cocked.

I stroked his hair behind his ear and grinned up at him. ‘Quent, if you don’t kiss me for real within the next three seconds I will have no other option but to kill you.’

A hesitant smile broke through on his face and immediately after, when his mouth closed over my lower lip and gently sucked it in, I felt his emotions suddenly release and throw the volume wide open. They washed over me, along with that wonderful warmth that we shared when we touched, and I felt such colossal relief that my eyes filled up and spilled over, even as my body responded to his kiss. He made a sound between a moan and a low rumble, a sound that seemed to emanate from deep, deep within him and that could only signal his own relief, mingled with desire. He wrapped his arms around me. Our tongues met, warm and soft and slippery, and I felt like I could blissfully drown in his kiss.

Everything, everything tingled and I wanted to be with him, disappear within him completely. Our kiss deepened and his hands roamed over my body, finding their way under my top, travelling up my back as I clung to him. I couldn’t help my own moans, my face wet. And then suddenly he noticed, and gently, he broke away from the kiss. I whimpered softly in disappointment, but he kissed my tears away instead.

‘Your turn to cry now, Taz? What is it luvvie, please don’t say that it’s…’ he whispered against my lips.

I leaned back to look at him, the light in the room breaking in the tears that formed little prisms hanging from my lashes. I raked through his hair, moving my hand down his neck, saying: ‘Oh, no, it’s just that I feel you, suddenly I can feel you again, in my head, my heart, ‘cause you were so quiet when we were still outside, like you were holding your breath, only it’s more like your emotions, I don’t know how to put it...’ I couldn’t help but ramble on incoherently, drowning in his gaze. He gave me a warm, quizzical look, head cocked, his beautiful smile slowly spreading on his face again.

‘Dunno exactly what you’re on about, luvvie, but I can’t seem to stop smiling…’ he whispered again, kissing my eyelids soon as another tear welled up. ‘Shhh, we’re OK, we’ll be OK, hey, Tazzie?’

‘Yeah…’ I said, my hand still travelling down his shoulder. And then suddenly I jolted and yelped. ‘Christ, Quent!’ I said, ‘is that where it hurts?’ I poked a finger in his meaty shoulder, making him grunt acknowledgement. ‘I can feel it in my hand, it’s like really hot here,’ I laid my palm flat against the sore spot and gave a little pressure.

‘Uhhh, that’s really good, luv, don’t move that hand, takes the pain away,’ he sighed, and he laid his head on my shoulder again, relaxing completely. He was warm and heavy and wonderful, I stuck my nose in his hair and smelled his clean, soapy smell. My hand throbbed on his shoulder.

‘Tazzie?’ he mumbled, his face slack against me, ‘What was it you just said, stuff about emotions?’

‘Mmm,’ I went, in his hair, ‘ I never told you, did I? I get that sometimes, that I pick up on people’s emotions...’

‘Nuh... you didn’t tell me... what’s that like?’ He moved his head until his nose was wedged under my chin and his breath tickled my throat.

‘It’s like I feel what they feel, in a sense... it’s called clairsentience...’ I rooted around on his head, sniffing his hair as he gave me a couple of sticky hot kisses under my jaw.

‘You feel what I feel?’ he breathed, and he started licking a particularly sensitive spot behind my earlobe.

I was beginning to lose coherence again as a feeling of molten lava began to spread through my body from my center outward. I put my leg on his and he responded immediately by hooking a hand under my knee, rolling over and pulling me on top of him. I ended up right against his raging hard-on, which gave me another electric jolt of pleasure.

‘With you, I feel... so much...’ I managed to get out before he kissed me again, fiery and insisting, rubbing himself against me, his breath fast and shallow.

‘Need you, Taz,’ he groaned, pulling at my clothes impatiently.

Within no time at all my top and bra had vanished and, like before, the feeling of skin on skin was so overwhelming that it stilled us for a moment. But only for a moment.

‘...the rest as well. Take ‘em off, Taz,’ he demanded, low and urgent, his hand shoved into the back of my jeans as best he could manage.

I broke free for a moment, wriggling out of jeans and panties as he shed his track pants, and then he made an eager grab for me again, pulling me in, hooking my leg, kissing me hungrily. He just rolled right into me and we joined in one swift and fluid movement. He was into me up to the hilt and I gasped my pleasure into his mouth. He was big, throbbing hot and I was spasming, contracting around him, sending little shudders of pleasure through his body.

‘Move, Quent, please,’ I panted into his ear as he kept the both of us completely still for what seemed an eternity.

‘Mm, you’re so wet, so hot, you’re mine, Tazzie, my Tazzie,’ he ground out, moving his hips just a tiny bit.

It was so unbelievably good. I produced a small sound of utter abandon and ached for release.

‘I’ll not last long, luvvie,’ he whispered a warning against my temple, giving it another tiny grind.

‘Neither will I, now please, move, Quent, please,’ I was gasping, shuddering.

And then he moved, slamming wildly into me with raw sexual force, two, three, four times. The fifth sent us both over the edge, his hot spurts inside immediately taking me to another searing orgasm.

We clung to each other for a very long time, shuddering, then slowly calming down.

‘Tazzie-luv...’ Quent finally breathed into my ear, ‘...did I hurt you? Didn’t mean for it to be so... rough... so fast...’

Slowly, he slipped from me and I cuddled up to him as closely as I could, his arms around me, holding me tight. ‘No you didn’t, don’t worry love... you’ll have to do it again though, soon, to make up for...’ I couldn’t finish what I was saying because then, his mouth covered mine, languorously this time, slow and slick and satisfied.

When he was done kissing me he gave me a smouldering, intense look and said, ‘...soon... well yeah...!’

I could only smile.

Chapter Ten

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