The minute she was up to her chest in the water, it grabbed her: the terror.
‘Oh Christ,’ she said, shivering. The water was icy, and her mind was full of those monsters, tearing at her flesh, trying to eat her whole. She felt her breath catching in her throat, felt her lungs close, felt a scream building up.
Jack was suddenly right there, in front of her. Those fierce eyes were blazing into hers.
‘Don’t think about it,’ he said, grabbing her shoulders, fixing her with his gaze. ‘I’ve got you. You’re fine. The most dangerous thing in here is us.’
Something slithered past Belle’s ankle and she let out a shriek. ‘What the fuck . . . ?’ she yelled.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Something touched me.’
‘Probably just weed or maybe a trout. I told you, there’s fish in here. And newts and stuff.’
Trembling, Belle looked down into the water. It was gin-clear, not like the caiman tank. Weed was lapping silkily at her ankles.
Just weed.
Nothing bad. Jack was smiling.
‘It’s not funny,’ she told him through chattering teeth.
Something darted down there. A trout. It brushed against her scarred calf. Belle let out another shriek and leapt forward, her arms going around Jack’s neck.
‘Sorry,’ she said instantly, and started to pull away.
‘Don’t be,’ he said, his eyes holding hers. His hands went to her forearms, keeping her there. ‘You’re bloody brave, Belle. You got in here even though you looked like you were going to shit yourself with fear. You did it.’
‘Oh yeah. Brave as hell, that’s me.’ She was still shaking. But . . . it was nice, her arms around his neck. She felt safer, this close to him. Protected.
He was staring at her face. For one moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but he didn’t.
No, of course not. All that’s done with.
She turned her head aside, letting her hair drop forward to hide her scars. Her attention was caught by the droplets of water on his broad well-muscled shoulders. The texture of his skin was so different to hers. She was hotly aware now that they were both naked, that this could develop into something way beyond her control. She eased back, disengaging herself. Tried a couple of tentative strokes, not moving too far away from him. The stony chill of the water was better now that she was moving; it was sharply refreshing after the clammy heat of the day. Getting bolder, she struck out for the far bank and Jack swam alongside her.
God, this was . . . this was nice.
She’d always loved to swim, even as a tiny child. Now, the love of it came back to her. Gradually she stopped worrying about what else was in the water besides the two of them. She swam back and forth across the river, enjoying it, until she was too tired to swim any more. Then she waded out onto the bank and flopped there, exhausted, not even bothering to cover up with her towel because all that was done with, she was repulsive anyway, it didn’t matter.
It was sort of liberating, somehow. She closed her eyes and relaxed.
All the fannying around she’d done in her past life, the hours spent in hairdressers and beauty salons being coloured, waxed, plucked, tanned, all that shit – she was never going to have to bother with that, ever again, because that life, that pampered, privileged, false life was over and done with. Here was reality. Day-to-day she wore an old relic of Jack’s mother’s – a pair of ill-fitting jeans – and a shirt of his that had a frayed collar and paint stains on it. No need to dress up and teeter around in high heels any more. No need for anything, because all that artifice, all that pretence, was over. She was ugly and all the preening in the world wasn’t going to change that.
There was movement alongside her and she knew that he was right there. Drops of cool water splashed down on her skin. She heard him sit down on the bank. Then for a long while there was nothing but birdsong and the rush of the water. Her heart was beating hard. She could feel her nipples standing erect, could feel the ridiculous liquid heat between her legs, the longing for him, the readiness, her body opening like a flower. But he wouldn’t want that. Of course he wouldn’t.
‘Belle?’ he said.
She opened her eyes. Jack was lying beside her, leaning over her. To her shock she realized that he was laughing so hard she thought he was about to have a seizure. Actual tears were coming out of his eyes, he was laughing so much.
‘What?’ she demanded.
He gulped in a breath. ‘The nerve on you! I thought you’d be wearing a bra and pants, and instead . . . Christ, you got more front than Blackpool. Walking around stark naked!’
He was off again. Laughing.
‘You’re naked,’ Belle pointed out. She couldn’t see why this was so damned funny.
‘I’m a bloke. It’s not the same.’ Now he was staring down at her and suddenly nothing seemed very funny at all. He wasn’t laughing, not any more.
Belle didn’t know what to say to break the breathless silence between them. It’s OK, I’m ugly, you don’t have to do a thing sprang to her lips, but she couldn’t seem to get the words out. She’d had men before – well, boys – but she had never, ever felt this raw unbridled intensity of lust until now. It was embarrassing, wanting him this much.
‘Belle,’ he said, and he was serious, his gaze intense as it swept down her body and then back up to her face. ‘My crazy brave Belle, if you don’t want this, then say so. Right now.’
She said nothing.
‘Belle,’ he whispered, and then he leaned down and kissed her.
His beard tickled her face. Scratched it a little, but she didn’t mind that, she relished it. For one golden moment she forgot what she looked like and concentrated only on what she felt.
‘You don’t have to,’ said Belle when he let her breathe.
‘Yes I bloody do,’ he said against her lips.
What the hell. If he was willing, then she certainly was. As his mouth took possession of hers all over again, Belle clung to his shoulders, smoothed her hands over those mysterious silky ridged scars on his back. His hands and then his mouth went to her breasts, drawing out her nipples until she thought she was going to simply go crazy – and then he moved lower, lower, until she cried out, spread herself for him, begged him to just do it, hurry, please hurry.
‘No, I’m not hurrying this,’ he said, trailing kisses back up her body. He breathed against her neck. His eyes met hers and he was half-laughing. ‘I’ve waited too long, I’m going to make it last. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks, driving myself mad with it.’
He wanted her. Her – poor ugly Belle. Her hands slipped down between them and she felt how much she was desired as she fastened her fingers around that hard quivering column of flesh that jutted out between his legs. She smoothed her thumb across the tip of it and felt the moisture there, the readiness that equalled her own.
‘Please,’ she moaned, and Jack mounted her then, teasingly, slowly, slipping his cock into her inch by inch, withdrawing, then easing forward again, staring into her eyes all the time, taking leisurely pleasure in the sensations. Over and over again he teased her, teased them both, until he could take no more and pushed hard into her, convulsing.
Even then, when his pleasure was complete, he took care of hers, stroking her, caressing her, and finally bringing her to a wild pulsing orgasm that drew gasps of delighted surprise from her, blowing her mind with its intensity.