Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [192]
She felt a half-second of revulsion, but just before she shoved him away, the magic arrived. She’d been kissed before, but never like this, and by the time he stopped she didn’t want him to. When she reluctantly opened her eyes, her entire body was leaning forward, angling into him.
‘Meet me tomorrow, Katherine with a K?’
‘OK,’ she said breathlessly.
When the nuns had told them to never wear black patent shoes with a skirt for fear that a man might see the reflection of their knickers, even Katherine had scoffed. But, all the same, some of the teachings of the Catholic Church had their hooks deep into her. She didn’t mind how Tara or Fintan lived their lives, but she’d always intended she’d be a virgin when she got married. She was adamant that she’d never go all the way with Lorcan, never more certain of anything in her life. But she was happy for him to kiss her. And kiss her he did.
They spent every evening together, sometimes going to his flat but mostly going to hers. Where they’d lie on her single bed and, while her accountancy books gathered dust on her tiny desk, kiss each other for hours. Long, hot, probing kisses, him half on top of her, the weight of his body both frightening and delicious, his leg thrown over her, his hand caressing the curve of her waist, her body turned into his.
The smoky, grown-up, masculine smell of his jacket, the silkiness of his hair beneath her hands, the way he groaned when she tantalized the nape of his neck, the hot, sweet pressure of his mouth on hers. But when he began to fiddle with her bra-clasp she was horrified: with him for his audacity and with herself because she’d wanted him to. She made them stop, pushed him off, sat up, told him that she wasn’t that kind of girl and that he needn’t try a repeat of his behaviour. He apologized profusely.
But the next time they were together he tried it again and Katherine was like an avenging angel. ‘Go home now,’ she ordered.
He was devastated. He actually wept, and swore that he’d never do it again. But she just repeated, ‘I want you to go.’
So he went and she bawled crying and thought that it was all over. Though she’d only been going out with him for two weeks, never had she felt so abandoned or alone.
But at seven o’clock the following morning, there was a pounding on her door and when she opened it, white-faced and nauseous from her sleepless night, Lorcan was standing there, a picture of contrite anguish. Wordlessly, they flung themselves into each other’s arms, then she led him in to lie down on her bed. And when he unbuttoned the front of her nightdress and touched her breasts and used his teeth to coax her pink nipples into hot, hard peaks, she made no protest.
Though she knew it was wrong she loved it. Shame mingled with dirty, horny desire and every time they were together she wanted to, but couldn’t, tell Lorcan to stop touching her. Eventually she made peace with herself and her jumpy conscience by deciding that above the waist was allowable. After all, everyone did it – Tara had been letting boys feel her breasts since she was fourteen. And so long as Katherine and Lorcan weren’t doing anything ‘down there’ she’d be all right. Besides he was mad about her. Couldn’t be nicer. Loved everything about her.
During one of the intimate conversations they had between bouts of burning kisses, she was reassured that this was something special. Lorcan had looked at her meaningfully, his eyes half closed and said, ‘I bet you’ve had millions of boyfriends.’
‘No.’ She was too inexperienced to lie. ‘Not a lot. Just two.’
‘Now you’re making me jealous,’ he said, huffily. And he wasn’t acting.
‘No, no, no, don’t be!’ she cried. ‘They were just boys who came to Knockavoy for their summer holidays. Neither of them was anything like… this.’
‘Well, wasn’t I worth waiting for?’ He chuckled.
‘Yes.’ That was exactly what she thought – Lorcan was her reward for being a good girl. All things come to those who wait. ‘And,’ she asked, shyly, ‘and have you had many girlfriends before me?’ She steeled herself