A Lesson of Intensity: Season of Desire Part 2 (Seasons Quartet) Read Free Page A

so that they can start steaming out their moisture in the warmth of the fire. I wonder where he is. He’s been gone a while. I lie down and try to imagine all the things I’ll do when I’m out of here, dozing and dreaming while I wait for Miles to come back. I spend a while trying to remember what was in my diary for next week, what my plans were. It’s strange how distant and unlikely they all seem now. Was there ever a time when I could do exactly what I wanted – walk out any door, go any place, please myself entirely? There’s a different reality now. What will it be like when I get back to my old life? I picture myself telling all my friends about this crazy adventure, all the drama of the crash and the luck of finding the hut, and the way we were rescued.
      Rescue? says a little voice in my head. What rescue?
      I jump up and look out of the little glazed window. Earlier the view was of complete glistening whiteness, pure in the morning light. Now, the window is filled with a yellowish-grey colour that seems to be moving. I realise that the snow has started falling again. The wind is picking up too – I can hear it battering about in the chimney. The storm is back. There won’t be any rescue while it’s raging outside and I have the distinct sense that it’s just getting started. It could last all day. We’ll be here another night at least.
      I sigh. A night. Memories of being close to Miles in the darkness flood back into my mind and set loose that powerful longing again.
      What the hell is that feeling?
      I’ve never known anything like it: this intense yearning for Miles’s physical presence. I thought I felt that way about Jacob, but what I felt for him was nothing like this desperate desire to be close to Miles. I could happily spend days away from Jacob, as long as we texted and emailed. But the magnetic pull towards Miles is something else: only being close to him will do. I want the nearness of his body so much.
      If only he weren’t so incredibly annoying… if only he didn’t take so much pleasure in pissing me off!
      Just thinking about him feeds my hunger for him but I suspect that whatever we had last night is unlikely to be repeated. After what just happened between us, is he likely to want to get close to me again? We had that incredible, delicious encounter and then he had to go and spoil it. I remember the taste of his mouth, the sensation of his lips on mine and those strong arms around me, and I realise that I’m moaning gently at the thought. One hand is rubbing at my shoulder, over my neck, down over my breasts. My sex gives a little judder to remind me that I’ve teased it horribly today. I’m on the edge of instant arousal. My hand plays over my thigh and I wonder if it would make things easier if I got rid of this troublesome need for Miles by unbuttoning my jeans and letting my hand slip inside to my white knickers. I could let my fingers play over their soft surface, tantalise myself a little, feel my bud swell up to meet my fingertips. It’s already tingling in anticipation, I can feel it. I imagine how I would caress it lightly, swirling my fingertips over it so that it buzzes with pleasurable vibrations. I’d feel the honeyed juices rise to meet me, taking a little on my fingertip to allow me to circle the bud all the more easily. I’d increase the pressure slowly, letting it harden under my teasing, and feeling the pulses of pleasure it sends out grow in power…
      Oh God, I want to do it… I need some relief from this hunger…
      But it wouldn’t be enough. He’d only have to walk through the door and I’d be enslaved by need again instantly.
      Then my lust dies away in a sudden sensation of unease. How long has he been gone? I’ve had such complete faith in him, and such trust that he’s indestructible, that I haven’t been worried. Now, though, I realise that he’s been gone for a long time, over an hour. Long enough for my rage against him