What's Yours Is Mine Read Online Free PDF Page B

thighs to pull him deeper into me. Sweat drips from his hair into his eyes; darkly intent on his own need, he doesn’t even blink. The naked lust on his face is startlingly erotic. I find myself in the grip of a second orgasm, more intense than the first, and lose any semblance of sense or control. With a hoarse cry, Tom comes with me, pounding into me with something that feels very close to fury.
    Afterwards, we lie side by side for a long time on the rumpled bed, without touching. Tom’s breathing slows, and gently settles into the rhythm of sleep. No longer warmed by our lovemaking, I shiver in the cold room, and pull the edge of the duvet across me.
    The movement causes Tom’s flowback to trickle wetly between my legs.
Tom’s seed, falling on barren ground
. Seared with misery, I leap off the bed and run into the bathroom, scrubbing and scrubbing at my thighs until no trace is left.
    Bones and heart aching, I climb back into bed. I close my eyes, praying for sleep to come quickly.
    But I’m still awake when, at 3:48 a.m., the phone rings.

{  
CHAPTER FOUR
  }

Susannah
    You’d think she could’ve sprung for business class. After all, this whole dramatic race-and-rescue nonsense was her idea. I’m like a bloody battery hen stuck back here in economy, with all these screaming kids and sunburnt tourists in tracksuits and “comfy” sandals. And they have the cheek to look at me like
I’m
the freak they don’t want to sit next to.
    â€œI’ve arranged for you to pick up your ticket at the airport,” Grace told me bossily last night, without bothering to check if I
wanted
to come rushing home. “It’s all paid for. And make sure you bring enough clothes for at least a couple of weeks. I don’t know how long you’ll need to be here.”
    I didn’t bother pointing out everything I owned could fit into a single suitcase.
    â€œIt’s not that easy for me to drop everything,” I said perversely. “I’m an
artist
, Grace. I get paid on commission. If I don’t work, I don’t eat. And if I just up and leave without notice, I may not even have a job to come back to.”
    â€œThis is an emergency, Susannah. How can you even think about money?”
    â€œBecause, unlike you, I
have
to.”
    A long-suffering sigh, then, “Fine. I’ll look after things while you’re here.”
    Oh, I’m so grateful. Like she couldn’t afford it. Mind you, it’ll be for rather longer than she was thinking, given that after leaving the U.S. I won’t be allowed back in without a visa; Grace didn’t need to know that yet.
    â€œYou’ll have to stay with us for the time being,” she added crabbily. “Obviously Dad won’t have you, and clearly you can’t afford a hotel.”
    â€œCan you send me some cash? I’ll need a taxi to get to the airport—”
    â€œThere won’t be time to make a wire transfer before your plane leaves in the morning. I’m sure you have
someone
who could give you a lift,” Grace said, meaningfully.
    Bitch. She’s right, though. I always have
someone
.
    I was about eleven when I noticed I possessed a certain something that set me apart from other girls my age; something quite important. It wasn’t just that I developed proper breasts while they were still stuffing tissues in their training bras, or that my periods started before Grace’s (which
really
pissed her off). Boys liked me. I mean, they
liked
me. Men, too. I saw the way my father’s friends looked at me, then looked away, shocked by their own response.
    Whenever we played
It
, I was the one the boys chased. They jostled me to the ground, even when I yelled “
Pax.
”They snatched my lunch box and held it over their heads, so I had to wrestle them to get it back. It seemed there was always a knot of boys hovering near me, drawn like bees to a honeypot; or,