Things I Want My Daughters to Know_ A Novel - Elizabeth Noble [40]
Still, the point was, she wasn’t going to analyze it. She was just going to do it.
Twice.
Before midnight.
And once more, while the distant symbolic noise of fireworks still sounded.
Thank you very much. Hip hip hooray for impulsive, reckless behavior. And a happy, happy…happy New Year.
It was the best sex she’d ever had. If that was what spontaneity got you, she was suddenly all for it—a converted zealot. Ed was much more domineering in bed than he appeared to be out of it, and if she was momentarily curious about where all this imaginative expertise came from, she quickly put it aside and was grateful that it had come from somewhere. He was like some Fabio-esque hero in an airport novel—he knew exactly what to do, where, when…how to move her body all around his own like she was the proverbial putty in his hands. Blimey. Yummy. Good night.
SHE SLEPT FOR ABOUT TEN HOURS. IT WAS ALMOST LUNCHTIME by the time she surfaced. Arguably, if he hadn’t kissed her awake, she may have pushed on through to teatime. She protested, pushing his face away. “Mmm. Morning mouth. I haven’t brushed my teeth.”
“Don’t care. You’re gorgeous.” He was undeterred. He nuzzled her armpit. “You haven’t washed yet, either, but you smell fantastic.”
“You’re a randy sod.”
“Not until I met you.” He winked, looking for all the world like a member of Fagin’s gang.
“Yeah. You had the tentative approach of a virgin, I felt.” She pinched the delicate skin under his arm. So not the case.
“Just practicing for you, my lovely. Just practicing.”
“Charming. All those girls would be thrilled to hear you say so.”
“Must you say all those girls, like it’s been the cast of Ben Hur?” He pretended to look hurt.
“It’s either a long and varied list, or you spent your formative years in a brothel.”
“Is this your way of telling me you enjoyed yourself last night, Amanda?” Now his face was mock serious, but the twinkle never left his eye.
“Can’t remember much about it, matter of fact.”
He climbed on top of her, pinning her down with his powerful legs.
“Then I better remind you, I think….”
“Again?!”
“Oh yes. Again.”
SO TEATIME IT WAS, THEN. NEW YEAR’S DAY WAS ALREADY NEW Year’s Almost Night by the time they did brush their teeth, wash, and emerge from Ed’s apartment, hand in hand, in search of food and drink, neither of which had been taken since the previous afternoon. He’d lent her some jeans and boots one of his flatmates had left on the drying rack in the kitchen, assuring her she wouldn’t mind, and an old rugby shirt of his that smelled of Persil. You wouldn’t run a marathon without piling in the carbs, and they were both a little lightheaded and woozy. Thankfully the pub at the end of the road was serving Cumberland sausages with mash and onion gravy, and within minutes they were wolfing down giant portions and sipping whiskey macs by a suitably roaring fire.
Unsurprisingly, given what they had just spent almost twenty-four hours doing, Amanda felt incredibly close to him. She was as happy as she could remember being. She felt like she had a neon sign on her forehead, flashing SATISFIED at the world. For twenty minutes or so, they just ate. They sat so close that their thighs touched, all the way down.
Hunger assuaged, they started to talk. They were still talking when the landlord called time, reminding them gruffly that there had been a lock-in the night before, and that now he was tired and wanted to go upstairs and watch telly.
In many ways it was a typical getting-to-know-you conversation. One she’d had around the world, a thousand times. But in other ways it was more. Like in taking off their clothes back at his place they’d peeled away a few layers of the social onion already. This wasn’t an exchange of facts. This was more real.
Ed told her about his Christmas in Cornwall. His dad was much older than his mum—twenty-five years. He was seventy-five now, and he’d seemed frail to Ed this visit, suddenly older. He was still sharp as a tack, though. Evidently they were incredibly close; he’d retired from the law firm where he was