Undulate (Alchemy, #2)

by Elodie Hart

Knowing you were on the same team as someone else, that another human had your back and was your biggest, loudest, most steadfast cheerleader forever and ever became less a blessing and more a given as the years wound on.

Above all, she smells of sunshine, and while no parts of her body are touching mine save her hands and her cheeks, she’s far too close and far too naked for my liking.

He’s not my type. My type is kinky and insatiable. I’m looking for Christian Grey—or a whole roomful of Christian Greys on rotation, if you please—and this guy is Gilbert fucking Blythe.

I take back the Gilbert Blythe comparison. This guy could definitely be a spankier version of Captain von Trapp.

She was unhappy with her circumstances, and she was unhappy with the person those circumstances made her, and she took action to change those circumstances.

Nobody gets to tell you what to believe. Nobody gets to own your mind, your heart or your body. You own them. You get to decide.

‘Honestly, if you ever end up with one guy, I pity him trying to keep you satisfied.’

‘Have fun,’ I tell her coolly, when I really want to tell her the opposite. Don’t have fun. Don’t let too many randoms put their dicks inside you.

Zach answers the door, and all thoughts of jogging bottoms and trouser anacondas go plain out of my head, because he is in a tux. Holy Fucking Christ Almighty. His brand of sharp, nerdy, conservative dressing does it for me at work, I have to admit. Even if my type is usually more overtly playboy. I’m a sucker for a hot European in Gucci loafers and no socks. What can I say? I’m deeply fucked up.

Because as soon as Zach’s girls saw the logo and identified me as a fellow Swiftie, we were instant besties.

‘We always play it in the bath. Daddy punches the air when the key changes.’ Right. I can never un-know that about my grumpy boss. I wonder when I can get Love Story pumped through the speakers at work. It would be priceless.

‘It’s specific. To you. No matter how fucked up my home life still is—and believe me, it’s a total shit show, no matter what it looks like from the outside—my brain is so fucking full of you I can barely hold it together. All I can think about is doing unspeakable things to you. The whole. Fucking. Time. So for the love of God, please stop fiddling with your hem, because I can’t look away.’

‘Madeleine.’ They fly open. ‘This stops very quickly unless you can be quiet. You don’t get to make a sound. Got it?’ When he uses that stern Captain von Trapp voice on me, I’m instant jelly.

I didn’t know an experience that dirty could yield such purity of thought.

He’s tapped into his own dark side in order to cater to mine. However he’s done it, he’s managed to get out of his own way, and it’s serving him. I have him. For now. We’re in this together.

‘I think you’ve earned your freedom with that little performance,’ I murmur in her ear. She groans dramatically. ‘Now that is the most disappointing news ever.’

‘Well, well, well. If you’ve come to confess that you own a sex club, it’s about time.’ My laugh is pained. ‘I heard it was never too late to unburden myself to God.’ ‘That it’s not. Might this confession be better heard over a pint?’

‘Not like Rafe.’ We both grin. The day Rafe atones for his carnal sins will be a long time coming, and John knows it.

But you’re implying last night was transcendent?’ I consider. ‘It was how I imagine taking crack to be.

I’m so wet, so primed for him, but he’s so huge that my body can’t help but brace against the invasion. He stills inside me, allowing us both a moment to adjust to the perfect snugness of our fit.

Should I let someone else have a go?’ ‘No,’ I moan. He runs his lips along my jaw as he rolls his hips, filling me and teasing me. ‘Why?’ I steel myself to tell him the truth. A truth that’s been branding itself onto my conscious for a while now, and which has burnt brightly in my soul since this weekend. ‘Because nobody else makes me feel as good as you do.’

‘I have a confession to make,’ he murmurs in my ear as our heart rates return to normal. I close my legs together, clamping him inside me for as long as I can, not wanting him to leave me empty and bereft. ‘What’s that?’ ‘I’d give anything,’ he says, ‘to take you home with me and curl myself around you all night.’

‘Mark my words, darling, you don’t want to be the Maria to his Captain Von Trapp,’ she tells me. ‘He’ll go full you brought music back to my life on you.’ ‘Except by music, he’ll be talking about sex,’ Belle interjects unhelpfully.

‘There are people in this life who are takers by nature, and that makes them drains, and those are the ones we avoid, hmm? But there are also truly good, wonderful people who have so much to give when they’re in a good place, but who may end up draining us all the same when they’re struggling, without either party being remotely aware of it.’

Would you be okay with me having her as my girlfriend?’ ‘Slay,’ Stella says, which I gather is an affirmative. ‘Okay,’ Nancy says.

Jesus, anger is an aphrodisiac. It is with this one, at least.

At some point, my darling, when you’re ready, I’ll send you a new love, she wrote. She’ll be amazing. Nothing like me—obviously—because I’m a one-off. In fact, I’m going to find someone so different from me that she’ll make your head spin. But I have a feeling she’ll still leave unfinished cups of tea everywhere and sing the whole fucking time and drive you up the wall. Because I’m mean like that. You didn’t think I’d leave you in peace, did you? Although she will be seriously stunning—just like me :). Because I’m not that mean. And you’re welcome.

‘Is it okay to have sex while the girls are asleep, though?’ ‘If it wasn’t, no one would ever have more than one child,’ he points out with flawless logic. ‘Just try not to scream the house down.’

What she’s given me is the furthest thing from oblivion. Instead, she’s given me the gift of consciousness.