Cross the Line

Dinner with Patrick and Lucinda was a strange affair in Naomi’s eyes. This unaddressed sexual tension still sat there like an elephant in the room, as did the ‘L’ word, and she found it really difficult to concentrate on the everyday topics of conversation. But Conor remained charming, the epitome of a perfect date, but was perfect what anyone REALLY wanted? Naomi contemplated that as she visited the bathroom later that evening. Life wasn’t perfect, and she wondered whether she might in fact rather the bad boy who’d left London with her. Then she’d glance over at him, the killer smile and the memory of the ‘L’ bomb and her heart melted all over again.

Patrick was witty and as charming as his friend, and there was no difficulty in creating conversations with Lucinda, so any awkwardness was due to her own issues with Conor and nothing else. Regardless of that, Naomi felt anything but neglected, she had no complaints. The food was perfect, the wine divine and the company perfect all things considered.

After dinner the men led the women through the hotel to the ballroom, where predominantly Conor’s family partied for a final night. His mother as usual sat flanked by his sisters, the remainder of the immediate family weren’t far away, then there were the close friends, extended family and neighbours. By now, Naomi was familiar with most of them, so as such was accepted as part of them.

The ante seemed to up as the evening developed. Conor wasn’t sure when the flirting turned into a full come on, but it did. The secret looks as they circulated became lecherous gawps; occasional touches became more grope than fondle. Now it was all he could do to control his libido, and hide his excitement from his mother!

Naomi was warm all over, as she waltzed with Conor’s granddad she kept meeting his ‘come to bed’ eyes over the old man’s shoulders, and each time the warmth, the passion, the desire seemed to grow. Every time one of them was free, searching for the other, they were disappointed to find them dancing with a friend or relative. It was so typical.

Patrick was a great dancer, or rather lacked any inhibitions, which was a great facet when you were dancing to ‘Never Gonna give you up’ by Rick Astley. When it changed to ‘I just called to say I love you,’ Naomi pleaded aching feet and Patrick escorted her away from the dancing. Conor was spinning Lucinda around the dance floor, so she waited until she caught his attention before she crooked a finger beckoning him to follow her. There was no denying her intention. His eyes lit up, but she knew he’d see out the dance, etiquette prevailing. So as she left the room she glanced over her shoulder, smiling when she saw she was the centre of his attention.

Back in their room she freshened up then stripped out of the clothes she’d worn all day. In her bag she found the third set of underwear he’d bought her prior to the trip, she slid into the lace hipster panties and tight supportive transparent lace camisole, wrapping his own white dress shirt around her. She was sat in an armchair facing the door when he burst in holding an unopened bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Standing she walked slowly and deliberately towards him, “you were saying?”

Conor was silent for a few seconds, the unbuttoned shirt did little to hide her lissom body, and the fact it was almost on display spoke volumes. But history meant he wasn’t going to presume anything. He’d cocked up enough this weekend and he couldn’t imagine her forgiving him AGAIN, “Umm...” she’d never seen him so nervous.

He shook his head as he took everything in, then pulled her into his arms to kiss her long and hard. The champagne and glasses he still held, dug into her back but she was uncaring. She just needed to fuel her need to be as close to him as she possibly could.

When they eventually parted he put the drink down, and sat on the sofa, pushing the shirt off her shoulders to admire her. “Best money I ever spent!” he murmured leisurely looking her up and down. “Pity I want it all off isn’t it?”

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of removing the underwear, at being completely naked whilst he was still fully dressed, “all of it” her voice was quiet.

                “Oh yes!” he announced, “every single bit!”

She nodded then grabbed the hem of the lacy top and lifted it slowly and seductively over her head. She gasped at the sensation of the cool room and his gaze on her breasts, but that was nothing compared to the look in his eyes that came to rest on hers. The desire and passion were raw in his face.

It only inspired Naomi, she knew the sight of her wriggling, her bare, ample breasts bouncing gently was more than he could handle. She played with her hair longer than was necessary; she knew it was driving him wild, before lowering her hands to the top of her pants. She loved seeing the desire in his eyes, watching him struggle to maintain control. She could see she had defeated him and laughed as he reached out and pulled her astride his lap.  Her laughter was enveloped by kiss after long passionate kiss.

                “You are a witch!” he murmured into her neck as his hands swept down her back. As a reply she started to unbutton his shirt. Frustrated and needing to feel her hands on his body, he started to help her, and within seconds he was groaning, her fingers searching all over him, driving him wilder than he ever imagined.

Naomi’s heart was pounding as Conor managed to stand up and carry her, still wrapped around him, to the bed. He laid her down gently, standing to slide out of his trousers, shoes and socks. Then he stood for longer than was necessary to look down at her propped on the huge, extravagant bed. Her whole being throbbed with excitement, anticipation, and the newly offered love that she had from this man. She held her arms out to him, and he fell into them.

A while later he reached to pull a sheet to cover them.  It was warm with the fire still glowing, but he could feel her start to shiver.

                “You ok?” he asked lying back down beside her.

                “I’m better than ok.” She kissed his chest.

He pulled her into a close embrace, “Are you sure about this? About us?”

She shrugged, “who knows, but I suppose you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs, can you?”

Conor rose up on to an elbow and glanced suspiciously at her, “am I the egg? Or the omelette?”

Giggling she reached for his cheek and cupped it, “I think that you’re the threat, the frying pan!”

It wasn’t taken in as much jest as it was intended as there was far too much truth or was it threat in her words?

At the airport after the short flight from Dublin, they had an hour to get home, change and return to the office by midmorning, they had a busy afternoon schedule. Conor was trying to do the right thing and really wanted to escort her home first and then head to the office via his place, but Naomi pointed out the ridiculousness of that plan, and so they separated.

It was exactly the worst thing for Naomi, because as soon as the door of her apartment closed behind her...alone, the doubts started to resurface. How did you come back from a luxurious weekend away and not think that this was anything but a holiday romance? Yes he’d declared he thought he loved her, but that was really a throw away comment that he’d done little to act on. She changed into a conservative suit and blouse after the quickest shower, then made for the office. There was no parking because of the time, and by the time she walked in to see Gloria jolly as ever at reception, she felt anxious, sick and bloody frustrated at SO many things. Time alone  does let your mind become active, overactive she corrected herself, but as she walked into the building, it was the sense of the unknown that scared her.  

                “Well don’t you look well!” Gloria announced rushing over to air kiss Naomi. “So it was a good wedding? Mr O’Neill looks equally refreshed, I have to say! he got here about twenty minutes ago!” She hovered expecting a snippet of gossip, but Naomi wasn’t in the mood. Not that she’d tell the office gossip anything serious.

Instead smiling Naomi glanced towards Conor’s office and was rewarded with meeting his eyes head on; he gave her a brief, yet sexy look, before dropping his head to the pile of documents in front of him. Naomi gulped, every insecurity came racing to the surface. She just had to get through today, and get home. She’d be safe then, and able to take stock of all this. So with a half grin she headed for her own small office.

By lunchtime she was as busy as it seemed Conor was. She managed to get up and get a cup of coffee before being reburied in the mountain of work that was waiting. Reaching for her mug she slurped at the coffee, and a voice from the doorway commented, “Ah, things have changed have they? You always got me a coffee, now I’m having to get my own?” The indignation wasn’t real, but Naomi knew he was right; she had always got him a cup if she got one herself. He then gave her an annoyingly patronising wink and made for his own office with his own mug of coffee.

Half an hour later she wandered out to the reception area, “Gloria, I need that paper work that was due to arrive Friday evening, the Mackie case. Did it arrive?”

Gloria nodded, “I gave it to Mr O’Neill this morning, he asked first!”

Naomi sighed, that was her case, the only thing he’d let her manage herself, and now he was checking up on her? Had he walked straight in and started to interfere with her minimla workload. There were trust issues everywhere she looked, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he would’ve done that a week earlier. Sighing she turned for his office, but paused as Gloria added, “He’s gone to court, something about a reshuffled date. I presumed he’d told you?”

Anger raced through her veins at the same time as disappointment, shame and regret, had she jeopardised this working relationship by literally sleeping with the boss? It was a line she swore she’d never cross, and she’d been right to be sceptical, within hours of working under her lover he was questioning her decisions.

Naomi ate lunch at her desk, between work tasks, a sandwich Gloria had picked up in the next door corner shop, with more extra strength coffee. Suddenly the physical and emotional stresses of the weekend were taking their toll. When she finished all she could twenty minutes earlier than usual, she left and drove straight home.  After a long soak in a bubble filled bath, she was starting to rationalise again. Some hearty food, she’d eaten rich and slightly exotic food all weekend, and she’d feel tons better. She had always been prone to being dramatic.

Conor had had a day from hell. The notification that a court date was brought forward to today didn’t arrive to the top of his to do list until half an hour before the start of the case, so slightly under prepared he’d bombed to the court house at a rate of knots. It’d had been a difficult case, made worse by his uncharacteristic lack of preparation. And it had over run! Glancing at his watch as he reached his car, he saw it was after six. He’d wanted to get back to the office before it closed for no other reason than to talk to Naomi. He could tell she was struggling to deal with the new changes in their relationship, the working aspects as well as the home. The bubble of Ireland had definitely burst, and he needed to help her find guidelines for them both...but he’d disappeared without getting the chance to tell her. She’d be livid!

Suddenly the need to see her was overwhelming; he’d rather fight with an angry passionate Naomi than spend an evening alone. So exiting the car park, he turned left, away from his home, and in the direction of hers.