Love for Leona Ch. 11

The following Friday Gareth called for Leona.

She greeted him wearing a new dress and high-heeled shoes. They were going to a dinner-dance at a hotel in Brighton.

She had never been ultra-confident when it came to self-image, but as they made their way out to the car, she noted in her peripheral vision that her high heels had Gareth looking at her legs.

But he wasn't only admiring her legs.

'By the way, your hair looks really good like that. I like that swept-back style.'

'Thanks. I hoped you'd like it,' - delightedly.

He's not like the others, she thought. Usually she would go for the more outwardly confident, smooth-talking men like Aidan or Roger and others she had known, men who were quite different from herself. But Gareth was one of the quiet ones, one who had constructed a hard protective shell around himself. Around him she felt most comfortable in herself.

The hotel dining-room was crowded when they arrived, but their table had been booked a few days in advance.

'What are you thinking?' - looking into his face as they danced, 'Your lips were moving with your thoughts for a moment.'

They had joined the throng of dancers on the dance floor at one end of the room. while waiting for their meal.

'You're imagining things,' was his evasive reply.

And this was typical of Gareth, she thought as they made their way back to the table. One moment he was open and friendly, and the next he retreats into his own private world.

The waiter poured the vintage wine as the first course was served.

And the conversation has come to a standstill, she thought. They both tried to bridge the awkward moment and their talk was stilted.

'You're a strange guy,' was her comment.

'How so?'

'A very strange guy,' - after a pause - 'but a damned intriguing one.'

'You hardly know me - so how can you say that?'

'I know you as well as you know me.'

'That's one way of looking at it.'

She was intent on piercing his defensive shell.

'And we need to know each other better,' - her eyes probing his - 'to ... to talk about things.'

'What sort of things?'

She shrugged. She wasn't getting through to him.

There was a silence for a moment. Then they danced again between courses. At least he dances well, she thought. And a man who dances well makes me feel feminine. He held her close during the slow number, but his expression was inscrutable as her eyes met his for a fleeting second.

She knew she would have to take things slowly with him. There must be no backward steps in this relationship. And that if he were to turn her away, she would never be able to handle the frustration of it.

But when they returned to her flat in North Melbourne, he surprised her by holding her in a fiercely possessive embrace, his hands on her hips pulling her against him.

'Hey,' she said gently, her arms moving around him, 'take it easy.' He clung to her tightly

She reached out a hand and touched his hair then his face, the exploring tips of her fingers. She felt his body tense, harden against her.

'I want you so much,' she said. Her body had turned to flame, aching for him.

She kissed him for a long time but without force.

For a moment he froze and for an even longer moment he did not respond, then surrendered to the need within him.

'I want you so much.' Her emotion was almost out of control.

And then she was undoing his shirt. She reached down, touching him intimately before leading him into the bedroom.

'You seem to know your way around a man's body,' - undoing her blouse, his hands moulding breasts and hips, almost driving her wild. Fuelled by desire, her fingers were stroking his taut stomach.

He was staring at her naked torso with an expression of reverence.

'Like what you see?' - provocatively. She was sitting up straight, her arms lifted over her head.

Later that night as they lay together, she said. 'Don't always expect me to take the initiative. Meet me halfway.' Her voice was teasing. 'I might lose interest in a passive man.'

Inwardly her emotion was almost out of control. She realized that here was the man who would break her bad pattern in relationships.

She could feel a connection that was strong and beautiful and she knew he was feeling it too. Her vicious cycle was ended.

In the morning she draped a leg over his lower body, but he was unresponsive. In the early morning light, his heavy-lidded gaze was again denying her access to his thoughts.

He had closed in upon himself, she knew; she could sense an inner conflict.