The Education of Caraline

And then he had returned and it was too late.

Watching him walk through the automatic doors into the lobby was extraordinarily arousing. I longed to feel his body intertwined with mine, to feel as I had felt once before. I could see the tension and expectation on his face, and the old insecurities began to worm their way to the surface. Ten years ago, I had been the experienced one and I had led the way, even though my ‘experience’ had been limited to my uncreative husband. Sebastian’s experience, at the time, had been zero, but now… By his own admission, he had fucked every woman who’d let him. I had no doubt that his charm, superficial or otherwise, combined with his extraordinary good looks had gained him entry to a large number of bedrooms.

By contrast, the number of men I’d slept with since him could be numbered on one hand. I was afraid he would find me… boring.

He crossed the lobby with long strides until he was standing in front of me, searching my face. He held out his hand, and I didn’t hesitate. If it was a mistake, then it was one I made willingly.

A relieved smile flickered briefly across his face.

He pulled me to my feet and braided his fingers through mine, leading me towards the bank of gleaming elevators.

All were busy, crammed with tourists returning from day trips, politicians and businessmen retiring to their suites for the evening. Sebastian and I stood off to one side, wedged among a throng of men in suits. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled my back into his chest, bending down to place soft kisses in my hair.

Two men smiled knowingly, but Sebastian didn’t so much as glance at them.

Several other people got off at the same floor, following us along the corridor, chatting noisily. Sebastian and I were silent.

I pulled the keycard out of my wallet with shaking fingers, and pushed the door open. I stepped inside, my heart racing, my nerves taut. I moved around the room, turning on the side lights, pulling the curtains and shifting my laptop off the neatly made bed. In other words, doing everything rather than look at him.

He hovered by the door for a moment, then walked in slowly and sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes following me around the room. He caught my hand as I fluttered past on another pointless circuit.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m nervous, too.”

I stared at him in amazement.

“You’re nervous… why?”

“Because it’s you,” he said, simply.

He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it courteously, a sweet, old-fashioned gesture.

“Only if you want to, Caro.”

“I do… I just feel, I don’t know, embarrassed. It’s so stupid.”

He lay back on the bed and gently pulled me down next to him. He began kissing my throat, his hands moving up from my waist.

I felt him everywhere, all over me, suffocating me, and I froze.

“No, Sebastian.”

I pushed him away, and he stopped immediately.

I was half expecting him to get up and leave in disgust, but he surprised me again.

Suddenly he rolled away from me to the other side of the bed.

“Let’s just make out,” he said, grinning at me.

“Make out? As in…”

“Lie on the bed, watch trashy TV in French or German – your choice – and make out.”

He raised his eyebrows as he sat up, then he shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it on the floor, unbuckled and levered his feet out of his biker boots, before peeling off his socks.

He grabbed a couple of pillows, piled them against the headboard and launched himself back onto the bed.

“Where’s the remote?”

I pointed to the cabinet on my side of the bed and watched as he stretched over me to retrieve it, exposing a delicious sliver of taut, naked stomach as his T-shirt rode up his body.

Oh, I really wanted some of that.

Jane Harvey-Berrick's books