The Eliza Flint Island Hours Inner Circle
Not Going Upstairs
Nina had locked First Ferry Bakery for the night when Mal made the mistake of assuming he knew where they were going.
“Upstairs?”
“No.”
He stopped with one hand on the back of the chair he had been stacking.
The bakery was empty. Properly empty, not Rosehill empty, which generally meant three people remained outside discussing why the lights were off. The display cabinet had been wiped, the coffee machine cleaned and the last tray of tomorrow’s dough was where it needed to be.
Nina picked up her handbag. Mal looked at the ceiling. Then at her.
“Your flat has moved?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Would have been difficult to miss.”
She walked towards the front door.
Mal followed.
“You said no.”
“Yes.”
“To upstairs.”
“Yes.”
“Are we going somewhere?”
Nina unlocked the door.
Outside, Rosehill Harbour had settled into evening. The last passenger ferry had already arrived and the bus loop connected to it had finished twenty minutes earlier. The terminal lights remained on across the road. A few passengers were still making their way towards parked cars, family lifts and the pub with the particular looseness of people who had completed the water portion of their day.
Nina stepped outside and waited while Mal joined her.
She locked the bakery.
Mal continued waiting.
It was one of his more irritating talents.
He could wait through almost anything. An elderly passenger finding the exact coin she knew was somewhere in her handbag. A tourist explaining why a timetable should contain exceptions for poor planning. Nina deciding whether she intended to finish a sentence.
“Well?” he asked eventually.
“That was not much waiting.”
“I’ve been waiting seven years.”
She turned.
Mal’s expression remained innocent.
“Do not use historical investment to manufacture impatience.”
“All right.”
“You may also stop looking pleased with yourself.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“A little.”
Nina adjusted the strap of her handbag. Mal noticed the bag. He always noticed bags.
Occupational damage, perhaps. People boarded his bus carrying groceries, luggage, beach equipment, medical folders, plants and occasionally objects whose safe transport required optimism unsupported by physics.
“That’s larger than usual.”
“It is my handbag.”
“Yes.”
“You have seen it before.”
“I have.”
“Then there is no issue.”
“I didn’t say there was.”
Nina began walking.
Mal fell into step beside her.
They reached the corner before he said, “Where are we going?”
“Your place.”
He stopped. Nina took another two steps before noticing the absence beside her. She turned. Mal stood beneath the streetlight looking at her.
“What?”
“My place.”
“Yes.”
“For dinner?”
“If you have food.”
“I have food.”
“Then dinner seems likely.”
His eyes moved to her handbag again. Nina narrowed hers.
“Do not.”
“I said nothing.”
“You are developing theories.”
“I’m a bus driver. Route prediction is part of the work.”
“This is not a route.”
“It appears to have a destination.”
She resumed walking. Mal caught up.
They said nothing for nearly half a minute. Then he asked, “Are you staying?”
Nina kept her eyes ahead. “That depends.”
“On?”
“The quality of dinner.”
“That feels professionally unfair.”
“You stated you had food.”
“I do.”
“You did not state its condition.”
“I have chicken.”
“Cooked?”
“Not yet.”
“Vegetables?”
“Yes.”
“Which?”
Mal named them. Nina considered.
“Acceptable.”
“Strong praise.”
“It was an inventory assessment.”
“I heard warmth.”
“You frequently hear things unsupported by evidence.”
They continued.
The quiet between them had changed. Nina knew it. Mal knew it. Neither improved matters by naming it.
Two weeks had passed since the bakery stopped being temporary headquarters for every fear Rosehill possessed about the ferry. The work had not vanished. Meetings continued. Figures continued. Patrick continued. But the crisis no longer entered every hour wearing a different folder.
Mal had spent more nights above the bakery than at his own place during those two weeks. His mug had acquired a shelf. His phone charger had acquired a wall socket. Three shirts had appeared in Nina’s cupboard and were already behaving as if precedent were a form of ownership.
Nina had permitted all of this without describing it as permitting anything. Tonight she had made a different decision. That was all.
Mal unlocked his front door. Nina had been inside before. Many times. Tea. Dinner. Once when his hot-water system had made a noise he described as concerning and Nina described as expensive despite having no expertise whatsoever in hot-water systems. However, she had never arrived carrying clean underwear and a toothbrush.
Mal held the door open. Nina entered.
His house smelled faintly of timber, laundry powder and whatever he had cooked the previous evening. The sitting room was tidy without looking arranged. His work shoes stood near the back door. A newspaper occupied one end of the table. Two mugs sat on the draining board.
Nina set her handbag down. Mal looked at it.
“Chicken,” she said.
“Yes.”
He moved towards the refrigerator. Good.
Nina took off her shoes and left them beside the chair.
Mal noticed that too.
“Cooking,” she reminded him.
“Yes, Nina.”
He cooked.
Nina was helping and found the chopping board without asking.
The knives were less satisfactory.
“This is blunt.”
“It cuts things.”
“That is a low standard for a knife.”
“It has succeeded so far.”
“At what?”
“Tomatoes.”
“This explains their condition.”
Mal looked over.
“You’ve been here three minutes.”
“And already your kitchen is benefiting.”
“Should I be frightened?”
“Probably.”
He smiled and returned to the pan.
They ate at his kitchen table with the windows open to the mild night. The chicken was good. The vegetables had not been overcooked. Nina told him so.
Mal placed his fork down.
“I’d like that recorded.”
“No.”
“For morale.”
“No.”
“Future reference?”
“You may remember it privately.”
“Thank you.”
After dinner, Mal washed. Nina dried. The arrangement was not negotiated. This bothered Nina enough that she considered objecting to it and pleased her enough that she did not.
She dried the final plate. Mal wiped the bench. Nothing happened. No ferry failed. Nobody rang. No one attempted the front door. There was no public issue requiring translation into responsible action. The evening simply remained available to them.
Mal turned towards her. Nina was holding the tea towel. He was holding nothing. His eyes dropped briefly to her mouth. There it was.
Nina put the tea towel down. “Bedroom?”
His eyebrows lifted.
“That was efficient.”
“I have been awake since four.”
“Practical.”
“Do not ruin this.”
“I’m trying not to.”
He came closer. Nina caught the front of his shirt before he could become considerate enough to irritate her. She kissed him. Mal’s hands found her waist.
The kiss began warm and familiar then deepened almost immediately because neither of them had spent the evening discovering anything. They knew.
They knew the shape of the other’s mouth. The pressure that meant more. The shift in breathing that meant stop talking unless the talking was useful.
Mal backed against the edge of the kitchen table. Nina felt it happen and laughed into his mouth.
“What?”
“You.”
“Specific.”
“You’ve trapped yourself against furniture.”
“I thought you were directing.”
“I am.”
“Then excellent work.”
She kissed him again. His hands slid beneath her shirt and across her back. Nina moved closer until her hips fitted between his thighs. Mal made a low sound. Better. She liked that she could do that to him. Liked it without needing the liking explained.
Her fingers opened his shirt. One button. Two. Three. Mal watched her.
“Do not become observant now.”
“Difficult.”
“Try.”
She pushed the shirt from his shoulders.
His body was familiar now. Broad chest. Grey beginning through the hair there. The small pale scar near his ribs she had asked about once and been told involved a fence, an argument and nineteen-year-old judgement. Nina kissed it. Mal’s breath shifted. Then she kissed lower. He became very still.
“Nina.”
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
She looked up.
“If you require an operational briefing, the evening will deteriorate rapidly.”
His laugh caught halfway out.
Nina reached for the fastening of his trousers. The laugh disappeared.
“Ah.”
“Improved comprehension.”
“Yes.”
She lowered herself carefully. Mal immediately reached for her arm.
“Floor.”
“I am aware of it.”
“Your knees.”
“I own them.”
“I know.”
“Then let go.”
He did. Not reluctantly enough to annoy her. Nina opened his trousers and freed him.
Mal’s hand went to the edge of the table behind him.
She looked at him once. Then took him into her mouth. His whole body reacted. That pleased her almost indecently.
“Nina.”
She ignored him.
His cock was hard and hot against her tongue. She took him deeper then eased back, learning how much control disappeared from his face when she used her mouth instead of her hands. Quite a lot, apparently.
Mal’s fingers tightened against the table. Nina changed the pressure. His head dropped back.
“Christ.”
She smiled around him. His eyes opened.
“That was smug.”
She lifted her mouth.
“You may complain.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
“Good.”
She took him again. This time his hand came gently to the back of her head. Not directing. Holding. Nina allowed it.
She worked him until his breathing became rough and his thighs tightened beneath her palms.
Then Mal said, “Stop.”
She did. Immediately.
He looked down at her, chest rising hard.
“What?”
“If you continue, this becomes very brief.”
“That was the idea.”
“No.”
Nina sat back on her heels.
“No?”
His mouth curved.
“I have plans.”
“Unapproved plans?”
“Negotiable.”
“That is better.”
Mal reached for her hands and helped her stand. Her knees objected slightly. She ignored them. Mal did not.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
“Sure?”
“Yes. And if you mention my knees again, your plans will encounter governance.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It is.”
He kissed her. Hard. Nina’s back met the wall beside the kitchen doorway. His mouth moved down her neck while his fingers opened her trousers. Nina caught his wrist. He stopped.
“Bedroom.”
“Because of your knees?”
“Because I refuse to have sex beside a knife I have already criticised.”
Mal laughed against her throat.
“There she is.”
They left clothes behind in stages. His shirt stayed near the kitchen table. Nina’s shirt landed in the hall. One of her socks disappeared somewhere before the bedroom door and neither stopped to investigate.
Inside, Mal switched on the bedside lamp. Nina looked around. She had seen the room before. It was different now.
The bed was larger than hers. His book lay face down on the bedside table. A pair of reading glasses sat beside it. She pointed.
“You need glasses?”
“For small print.”
“You have never mentioned this.”
“You’ve never audited my bedside table.”
“Apparently I should have.”
He stood behind her and kissed one shoulder.
“Tomorrow.”
Nina turned.
She was wearing her bra and knickers. Mal wore nothing. This imbalance required correction eventually. Not immediately.
Nina placed one hand flat against his chest.
“Sit.”
He sat against the headboard. The expression on his face made her warmer.
“Comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She removed her bra. Mal’s gaze dropped. Nina did not look away. Then her panties. She climbed onto the bed and lay beside him instead of over him.
His eyebrows lifted.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You had a theory.”
“Several.”
“That is your error.”
Nina turned onto her side with her back towards him. She took his hand and placed it on her hip. Understanding arrived. Mal moved close behind her. His mouth touched the back of her neck. Nina shifted until the hard length of him pressed against her backside. His breath warmed her skin.
“This?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her shoulder.
His hand moved over her waist then stopped.
“Need anything?”
Nina reached down between her own thighs. Mal went still behind her.
“No.”
Her fingers found her clitoris. His breath changed.
“Oh.”
“Problem?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She stroked herself slowly while Mal watched over her shoulder. The intimacy of that surprised her.
Not being touched. Being known while touching herself.
Mal’s hand tightened slightly at her hip. Nina spread her thighs enough to make room.
“Now.”
He guided himself into her pussy from behind. Slowly. Nina exhaled as her body opened around him. The angle was deep without asking either of them to perform acrobatics better suited to people with younger lumbar spines and worse judgement. Mal stopped when he was fully inside her.
“All right?”
“Yes.”
She moved her hips.
“Mal.”
He understood. His first thrust was slow. The second less so.
Nina kept her fingers between her thighs while he fucked her from behind, his chest warm against her back, his mouth at her shoulder.
The rhythm built without hurry. She could feel everything. His cock sliding deep. Her own fingers circling exactly where she wanted them. The low broken sounds Mal made when she pushed back to meet him.
He reached around and cupped one breast, thumb moving over the nipple.
Nina’s hips jerked.
“That,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Again.”
He did. She tightened around him. Mal swore softly.
“Careful.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
“It is becoming one.”
Nina smiled. Then the smile vanished because the pleasure had sharpened too quickly. Her hand moved faster. Mal’s rhythm changed behind her.
“Stay there.”
“I’m staying.”
“Mal.”
“I know.”
He did know.
His hand remained on her breast. His mouth pressed against the back of her neck. His thrusts stayed deep and steady while Nina worked herself towards the edge.
Her orgasm arrived hard enough to pull a sound from her she would have denied under formal questioning. Her body tightened around him in waves. Mal groaned.
He held the rhythm for another few strokes then came, up inside her with his face pressed against her shoulder, body shuddering against her back.
For several seconds neither spoke. Nina’s fingers stopped moving. Mal’s hand stayed over her breast.
The room was warm. Somewhere outside, a vehicle went past. Nothing about it required them.
Mal kissed her shoulder.
“That was different.”
Nina laughed.
“From?”
“Anything I expected when you said my place.”
“You expected dinner.”
“I hoped for more.”
“You received more.”
“Yes.”
“Then do not become ungrateful.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
He eased away carefully. Nina rolled onto her back. Mal looked at her.
“What?”
“You brought the bag.”
She stared.
“You are thinking about the bag now?”
“It returned to me.”
“You have terrible timing.”
“I waited.”
“Not long enough.”
He grinned.
Nina sat up.
“I need a shower.”
“Yes.”
“And then sleep.”
“Yes.”
“And I begin work at four-thirty.”
“I know.”
“You do not.”
“I have observed mornings.”
“You visit mornings. You do not manufacture bread in them.”
“True.”
She climbed out of bed. Mal followed.
In the bathroom Nina opened her handbag. Mal leaned against the doorframe. She removed a phone charger. He said nothing. That was worse. Nina placed it beside the basin. Mal continued saying nothing.
“It is a phone charger.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“It does not constitute residence.”
“No.”
“It does not imply a schedule.”
“No.”
“I may take it home tomorrow.”
“You may.”
She turned.
Mal’s expression was unbearably soft.
“Stop that.”
“What?”
“That face.”
“My face?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve had it for years.”
“It is currently behaving badly.”
Mal came towards her. Nina pointed at him with the phone charger.
“Do not make this significant.”
He stopped.
“All right.”
“Good.”
He looked at the phone charger. Then at her.
“Can I make it useful?”
Nina lowered her hand.
“That would be acceptable.”
Mal kissed her. No declaration. No claim. No question about drawers, nights or which home counted more. Just his mouth on hers in the small bathroom while Nina’s phone charger stood on his bathroom counter.
Later, after the shower, Nina discovered the floorboard beside the bathroom complained under her left foot. She stepped on it again.
Mal looked out from the bedroom.
“What?”
“Your floor.”
“What about it?”
“It makes a noise.”
“I know.”
“You should fix it.”
“It’s been doing that for years.”
“That is not a defence.”
“It tells me when someone’s coming.”
“That sounds like surveillance.”
“It’s a floorboard.”
“Convenient position.”
Mal got into bed.
Nina hung her black bra over the back of the bathroom door.
He watched.
“Do not.”
“I said nothing.”
“You noticed.”
“Yes.”
She turned off the bathroom light.
When Nina climbed into bed beside him, Mal lifted the sheet without ceremony. She settled on her side. His arm came around her waist.
At four twelve the next morning, her alarm went off from inside the handbag in the kitchen. Nina opened one eye. Mal did not move. The alarm continued.
“Your house is badly designed,” she said.
His voice came muffled from the pillow.
“My house?”
“The phone is too far away.”
“You put it there.”
“That does not improve the architecture.”
The alarm continued.
Mal rolled out of bed. Nina watched his naked backside disappear down the hall. This improved the morning considerably.
He returned carrying the handbag. He handed it to her. Nina silenced the alarm. Mal got back into bed.
“You have eighteen minutes,” he said.
“Before?”
“You said you need to leave at four-thirty.”
“I need to be downstairs at four-thirty when I sleep above the bakery.”
Mal opened his eyes. Nina did the calculation. He waited. She closed hers.
“This is inconvenient.”
“Yes.”
“The walk changes things.”
“Yes.”
“I will need to leave earlier.”
“Yes.”
“This arrangement lacks efficiency.”
“A little.”
Nina opened her eyes again.
Mal was smiling.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That is not nothing.”
“No.”
She reached under the sheet and wrapped her hand around his cock. His smile disappeared.
“That,” he said, “is poor time management.”
“I have sixteen minutes.”
“Nina.”
“Fifteen.”
He laughed as she pulled him closer. They did not manage another complete shag before she had to leave. However, they made a respectable attempt.
At four thirty-eight, Nina dressed while Mal made tea. At four forty-one, she found the missing sock under his bedroom chair. At four forty-three, she stood in the bathroom and looked at the phone charger.
Mal appeared behind her holding two mugs. Nina left the charger where it was. He did not comment. Good man.
At the front door, he handed her tea in a travel mug.
“I’ll bring this back.”
“I know.”
“That is not permission to create a mug system.”
“No.”
“Or toiletries.”
“No.”
“Or drawer allocation.”
“No.”
Nina looked at him.
“You agree too easily.”
“I’m learning.”
She kissed him once. Then again because the first had been insufficient.
When she stepped outside, dawn had not yet begun. Rosehill remained dark and mostly asleep. Mostly.
Beryl Knox’s kitchen light was on three houses away. Nina looked at it. Then at Mal.
“If she asks, I was discussing transport.”
“Very late meeting.”
“Early.”
“Strong distinction.”
Nina started down the path. Mal called after her.
“Nina.”
She turned.
He stood barefoot in the doorway.
“What?”
“You left your charger.”
“I know.”
Nothing else.
Nina walked towards the harbour with Mal’s travel mug warm in one hand. Behind her, his front door closed. Ahead, First Ferry Bakery waited for her day to begin. The phone charger remained exactly where she had put it.
I hope you've enjoyed spending this time with Nina and Mal.
Not Going Upstairs the bonus chapter begins immediately after the events of The Last Ferry Home, when Nina and Mal are finally hoping for one quiet evening together without a ferry problem, a committee, a neighbour or the rest of Rosehill taking an interest.
Naturally, Rosehill has other ideas.
Read your exclusive bonus chapter below.
Feel free to subscribe to the Eliza Flint Readers Inner Circle while you're here!
Thank you for reading The Last Ferry Home
The Eliza Flint Island Hours Inner Circle
Not Going Upstairs
Nina had locked First Ferry Bakery for the night when Mal made the mistake of assuming he knew where they were going.
“Upstairs?”
“No.”
He stopped with one hand on the back of the chair he had been stacking.
The bakery was empty. Properly empty, not Rosehill empty, which generally meant three people remained outside discussing why the lights were off. The display cabinet had been wiped, the coffee machine cleaned and the last tray of tomorrow’s dough was where it needed to be.
Nina picked up her handbag. Mal looked at the ceiling. Then at her.
“Your flat has moved?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Would have been difficult to miss.”
She walked towards the front door.
Mal followed.
“You said no.”
“Yes.”
“To upstairs.”
“Yes.”
“Are we going somewhere?”
Nina unlocked the door.
Outside, Rosehill Harbour had settled into evening. The last passenger ferry had already arrived and the bus loop connected to it had finished twenty minutes earlier. The terminal lights remained on across the road. A few passengers were still making their way towards parked cars, family lifts and the pub with the particular looseness of people who had completed the water portion of their day.
Nina stepped outside and waited while Mal joined her.
She locked the bakery.
Mal continued waiting.
It was one of his more irritating talents.
He could wait through almost anything. An elderly passenger finding the exact coin she knew was somewhere in her handbag. A tourist explaining why a timetable should contain exceptions for poor planning. Nina deciding whether she intended to finish a sentence.
“Well?” he asked eventually.
“That was not much waiting.”
“I’ve been waiting seven years.”
She turned.
Mal’s expression remained innocent.
“Do not use historical investment to manufacture impatience.”
“All right.”
“You may also stop looking pleased with yourself.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“A little.”
Nina adjusted the strap of her handbag. Mal noticed the bag. He always noticed bags.
Occupational damage, perhaps. People boarded his bus carrying groceries, luggage, beach equipment, medical folders, plants and occasionally objects whose safe transport required optimism unsupported by physics.
“That’s larger than usual.”
“It is my handbag.”
“Yes.”
“You have seen it before.”
“I have.”
“Then there is no issue.”
“I didn’t say there was.”
Nina began walking.
Mal fell into step beside her.
They reached the corner before he said, “Where are we going?”
“Your place.”
He stopped. Nina took another two steps before noticing the absence beside her. She turned. Mal stood beneath the streetlight looking at her.
“What?”
“My place.”
“Yes.”
“For dinner?”
“If you have food.”
“I have food.”
“Then dinner seems likely.”
His eyes moved to her handbag again. Nina narrowed hers.
“Do not.”
“I said nothing.”
“You are developing theories.”
“I’m a bus driver. Route prediction is part of the work.”
“This is not a route.”
“It appears to have a destination.”
She resumed walking. Mal caught up.
They said nothing for nearly half a minute. Then he asked, “Are you staying?”
Nina kept her eyes ahead. “That depends.”
“On?”
“The quality of dinner.”
“That feels professionally unfair.”
“You stated you had food.”
“I do.”
“You did not state its condition.”
“I have chicken.”
“Cooked?”
“Not yet.”
“Vegetables?”
“Yes.”
“Which?”
Mal named them. Nina considered.
“Acceptable.”
“Strong praise.”
“It was an inventory assessment.”
“I heard warmth.”
“You frequently hear things unsupported by evidence.”
They continued.
The quiet between them had changed. Nina knew it. Mal knew it. Neither improved matters by naming it.
Two weeks had passed since the bakery stopped being temporary headquarters for every fear Rosehill possessed about the ferry. The work had not vanished. Meetings continued. Figures continued. Patrick continued. But the crisis no longer entered every hour wearing a different folder.
Mal had spent more nights above the bakery than at his own place during those two weeks. His mug had acquired a shelf. His phone charger had acquired a wall socket. Three shirts had appeared in Nina’s cupboard and were already behaving as if precedent were a form of ownership.
Nina had permitted all of this without describing it as permitting anything. Tonight she had made a different decision. That was all.
Mal unlocked his front door. Nina had been inside before. Many times. Tea. Dinner. Once when his hot-water system had made a noise he described as concerning and Nina described as expensive despite having no expertise whatsoever in hot-water systems. However, she had never arrived carrying clean underwear and a toothbrush.
Mal held the door open. Nina entered.
His house smelled faintly of timber, laundry powder and whatever he had cooked the previous evening. The sitting room was tidy without looking arranged. His work shoes stood near the back door. A newspaper occupied one end of the table. Two mugs sat on the draining board.
Nina set her handbag down. Mal looked at it.
“Chicken,” she said.
“Yes.”
He moved towards the refrigerator. Good.
Nina took off her shoes and left them beside the chair.
Mal noticed that too.
“Cooking,” she reminded him.
“Yes, Nina.”
He cooked.
Nina was helping and found the chopping board without asking.
The knives were less satisfactory.
“This is blunt.”
“It cuts things.”
“That is a low standard for a knife.”
“It has succeeded so far.”
“At what?”
“Tomatoes.”
“This explains their condition.”
Mal looked over.
“You’ve been here three minutes.”
“And already your kitchen is benefiting.”
“Should I be frightened?”
“Probably.”
He smiled and returned to the pan.
They ate at his kitchen table with the windows open to the mild night. The chicken was good. The vegetables had not been overcooked. Nina told him so.
Mal placed his fork down.
“I’d like that recorded.”
“No.”
“For morale.”
“No.”
“Future reference?”
“You may remember it privately.”
“Thank you.”
After dinner, Mal washed. Nina dried. The arrangement was not negotiated. This bothered Nina enough that she considered objecting to it and pleased her enough that she did not.
She dried the final plate. Mal wiped the bench. Nothing happened. No ferry failed. Nobody rang. No one attempted the front door. There was no public issue requiring translation into responsible action. The evening simply remained available to them.
Mal turned towards her. Nina was holding the tea towel. He was holding nothing. His eyes dropped briefly to her mouth. There it was.
Nina put the tea towel down. “Bedroom?”
His eyebrows lifted.
“That was efficient.”
“I have been awake since four.”
“Practical.”
“Do not ruin this.”
“I’m trying not to.”
He came closer. Nina caught the front of his shirt before he could become considerate enough to irritate her. She kissed him. Mal’s hands found her waist.
The kiss began warm and familiar then deepened almost immediately because neither of them had spent the evening discovering anything. They knew.
They knew the shape of the other’s mouth. The pressure that meant more. The shift in breathing that meant stop talking unless the talking was useful.
Mal backed against the edge of the kitchen table. Nina felt it happen and laughed into his mouth.
“What?”
“You.”
“Specific.”
“You’ve trapped yourself against furniture.”
“I thought you were directing.”
“I am.”
“Then excellent work.”
She kissed him again. His hands slid beneath her shirt and across her back. Nina moved closer until her hips fitted between his thighs. Mal made a low sound. Better. She liked that she could do that to him. Liked it without needing the liking explained.
Her fingers opened his shirt. One button. Two. Three. Mal watched her.
“Do not become observant now.”
“Difficult.”
“Try.”
She pushed the shirt from his shoulders.
His body was familiar now. Broad chest. Grey beginning through the hair there. The small pale scar near his ribs she had asked about once and been told involved a fence, an argument and nineteen-year-old judgement. Nina kissed it. Mal’s breath shifted. Then she kissed lower. He became very still.
“Nina.”
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
She looked up.
“If you require an operational briefing, the evening will deteriorate rapidly.”
His laugh caught halfway out.
Nina reached for the fastening of his trousers. The laugh disappeared.
“Ah.”
“Improved comprehension.”
“Yes.”
She lowered herself carefully. Mal immediately reached for her arm.
“Floor.”
“I am aware of it.”
“Your knees.”
“I own them.”
“I know.”
“Then let go.”
He did. Not reluctantly enough to annoy her. Nina opened his trousers and freed him.
Mal’s hand went to the edge of the table behind him.
She looked at him once. Then took him into her mouth. His whole body reacted. That pleased her almost indecently.
“Nina.”
She ignored him.
His cock was hard and hot against her tongue. She took him deeper then eased back, learning how much control disappeared from his face when she used her mouth instead of her hands. Quite a lot, apparently.
Mal’s fingers tightened against the table. Nina changed the pressure. His head dropped back.
“Christ.”
She smiled around him. His eyes opened.
“That was smug.”
She lifted her mouth.
“You may complain.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
“Good.”
She took him again. This time his hand came gently to the back of her head. Not directing. Holding. Nina allowed it.
She worked him until his breathing became rough and his thighs tightened beneath her palms.
Then Mal said, “Stop.”
She did. Immediately.
He looked down at her, chest rising hard.
“What?”
“If you continue, this becomes very brief.”
“That was the idea.”
“No.”
Nina sat back on her heels.
“No?”
His mouth curved.
“I have plans.”
“Unapproved plans?”
“Negotiable.”
“That is better.”
Mal reached for her hands and helped her stand. Her knees objected slightly. She ignored them. Mal did not.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
“Sure?”
“Yes. And if you mention my knees again, your plans will encounter governance.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It is.”
He kissed her. Hard. Nina’s back met the wall beside the kitchen doorway. His mouth moved down her neck while his fingers opened her trousers. Nina caught his wrist. He stopped.
“Bedroom.”
“Because of your knees?”
“Because I refuse to have sex beside a knife I have already criticised.”
Mal laughed against her throat.
“There she is.”
They left clothes behind in stages. His shirt stayed near the kitchen table. Nina’s shirt landed in the hall. One of her socks disappeared somewhere before the bedroom door and neither stopped to investigate.
Inside, Mal switched on the bedside lamp. Nina looked around. She had seen the room before. It was different now.
The bed was larger than hers. His book lay face down on the bedside table. A pair of reading glasses sat beside it. She pointed.
“You need glasses?”
“For small print.”
“You have never mentioned this.”
“You’ve never audited my bedside table.”
“Apparently I should have.”
He stood behind her and kissed one shoulder.
“Tomorrow.”
Nina turned.
She was wearing her bra and knickers. Mal wore nothing. This imbalance required correction eventually. Not immediately.
Nina placed one hand flat against his chest.
“Sit.”
He sat against the headboard. The expression on his face made her warmer.
“Comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She removed her bra. Mal’s gaze dropped. Nina did not look away. Then her panties. She climbed onto the bed and lay beside him instead of over him.
His eyebrows lifted.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You had a theory.”
“Several.”
“That is your error.”
Nina turned onto her side with her back towards him. She took his hand and placed it on her hip. Understanding arrived. Mal moved close behind her. His mouth touched the back of her neck. Nina shifted until the hard length of him pressed against her backside. His breath warmed her skin.
“This?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her shoulder.
His hand moved over her waist then stopped.
“Need anything?”
Nina reached down between her own thighs. Mal went still behind her.
“No.”
Her fingers found her clitoris. His breath changed.
“Oh.”
“Problem?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She stroked herself slowly while Mal watched over her shoulder. The intimacy of that surprised her.
Not being touched. Being known while touching herself.
Mal’s hand tightened slightly at her hip. Nina spread her thighs enough to make room.
“Now.”
He guided himself into her pussy from behind. Slowly. Nina exhaled as her body opened around him. The angle was deep without asking either of them to perform acrobatics better suited to people with younger lumbar spines and worse judgement. Mal stopped when he was fully inside her.
“All right?”
“Yes.”
She moved her hips.
“Mal.”
He understood. His first thrust was slow. The second less so.
Nina kept her fingers between her thighs while he fucked her from behind, his chest warm against her back, his mouth at her shoulder.
The rhythm built without hurry. She could feel everything. His cock sliding deep. Her own fingers circling exactly where she wanted them. The low broken sounds Mal made when she pushed back to meet him.
He reached around and cupped one breast, thumb moving over the nipple.
Nina’s hips jerked.
“That,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Again.”
He did. She tightened around him. Mal swore softly.
“Careful.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
“It is becoming one.”
Nina smiled. Then the smile vanished because the pleasure had sharpened too quickly. Her hand moved faster. Mal’s rhythm changed behind her.
“Stay there.”
“I’m staying.”
“Mal.”
“I know.”
He did know.
His hand remained on her breast. His mouth pressed against the back of her neck. His thrusts stayed deep and steady while Nina worked herself towards the edge.
Her orgasm arrived hard enough to pull a sound from her she would have denied under formal questioning. Her body tightened around him in waves. Mal groaned.
He held the rhythm for another few strokes then came, up inside her with his face pressed against her shoulder, body shuddering against her back.
For several seconds neither spoke. Nina’s fingers stopped moving. Mal’s hand stayed over her breast.
The room was warm. Somewhere outside, a vehicle went past. Nothing about it required them.
Mal kissed her shoulder.
“That was different.”
Nina laughed.
“From?”
“Anything I expected when you said my place.”
“You expected dinner.”
“I hoped for more.”
“You received more.”
“Yes.”
“Then do not become ungrateful.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
He eased away carefully. Nina rolled onto her back. Mal looked at her.
“What?”
“You brought the bag.”
She stared.
“You are thinking about the bag now?”
“It returned to me.”
“You have terrible timing.”
“I waited.”
“Not long enough.”
He grinned.
Nina sat up.
“I need a shower.”
“Yes.”
“And then sleep.”
“Yes.”
“And I begin work at four-thirty.”
“I know.”
“You do not.”
“I have observed mornings.”
“You visit mornings. You do not manufacture bread in them.”
“True.”
She climbed out of bed. Mal followed.
In the bathroom Nina opened her handbag. Mal leaned against the doorframe. She removed a phone charger. He said nothing. That was worse. Nina placed it beside the basin. Mal continued saying nothing.
“It is a phone charger.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“It does not constitute residence.”
“No.”
“It does not imply a schedule.”
“No.”
“I may take it home tomorrow.”
“You may.”
She turned.
Mal’s expression was unbearably soft.
“Stop that.”
“What?”
“That face.”
“My face?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve had it for years.”
“It is currently behaving badly.”
Mal came towards her. Nina pointed at him with the phone charger.
“Do not make this significant.”
He stopped.
“All right.”
“Good.”
He looked at the phone charger. Then at her.
“Can I make it useful?”
Nina lowered her hand.
“That would be acceptable.”
Mal kissed her. No declaration. No claim. No question about drawers, nights or which home counted more. Just his mouth on hers in the small bathroom while Nina’s phone charger stood on his bathroom counter.
Later, after the shower, Nina discovered the floorboard beside the bathroom complained under her left foot. She stepped on it again.
Mal looked out from the bedroom.
“What?”
“Your floor.”
“What about it?”
“It makes a noise.”
“I know.”
“You should fix it.”
“It’s been doing that for years.”
“That is not a defence.”
“It tells me when someone’s coming.”
“That sounds like surveillance.”
“It’s a floorboard.”
“Convenient position.”
Mal got into bed.
Nina hung her black bra over the back of the bathroom door.
He watched.
“Do not.”
“I said nothing.”
“You noticed.”
“Yes.”
She turned off the bathroom light.
When Nina climbed into bed beside him, Mal lifted the sheet without ceremony. She settled on her side. His arm came around her waist.
At four twelve the next morning, her alarm went off from inside the handbag in the kitchen. Nina opened one eye. Mal did not move. The alarm continued.
“Your house is badly designed,” she said.
His voice came muffled from the pillow.
“My house?”
“The phone is too far away.”
“You put it there.”
“That does not improve the architecture.”
The alarm continued.
Mal rolled out of bed. Nina watched his naked backside disappear down the hall. This improved the morning considerably.
He returned carrying the handbag. He handed it to her. Nina silenced the alarm. Mal got back into bed.
“You have eighteen minutes,” he said.
“Before?”
“You said you need to leave at four-thirty.”
“I need to be downstairs at four-thirty when I sleep above the bakery.”
Mal opened his eyes. Nina did the calculation. He waited. She closed hers.
“This is inconvenient.”
“Yes.”
“The walk changes things.”
“Yes.”
“I will need to leave earlier.”
“Yes.”
“This arrangement lacks efficiency.”
“A little.”
Nina opened her eyes again.
Mal was smiling.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That is not nothing.”
“No.”
She reached under the sheet and wrapped her hand around his cock. His smile disappeared.
“That,” he said, “is poor time management.”
“I have sixteen minutes.”
“Nina.”
“Fifteen.”
He laughed as she pulled him closer. They did not manage another complete shag before she had to leave. However, they made a respectable attempt.
At four thirty-eight, Nina dressed while Mal made tea. At four forty-one, she found the missing sock under his bedroom chair. At four forty-three, she stood in the bathroom and looked at the phone charger.
Mal appeared behind her holding two mugs. Nina left the charger where it was. He did not comment. Good man.
At the front door, he handed her tea in a travel mug.
“I’ll bring this back.”
“I know.”
“That is not permission to create a mug system.”
“No.”
“Or toiletries.”
“No.”
“Or drawer allocation.”
“No.”
Nina looked at him.
“You agree too easily.”
“I’m learning.”
She kissed him once. Then again because the first had been insufficient.
When she stepped outside, dawn had not yet begun. Rosehill remained dark and mostly asleep. Mostly.
Beryl Knox’s kitchen light was on three houses away. Nina looked at it. Then at Mal.
“If she asks, I was discussing transport.”
“Very late meeting.”
“Early.”
“Strong distinction.”
Nina started down the path. Mal called after her.
“Nina.”
She turned.
He stood barefoot in the doorway.
“What?”
“You left your charger.”
“I know.”
Nothing else.
Nina walked towards the harbour with Mal’s travel mug warm in one hand. Behind her, his front door closed. Ahead, First Ferry Bakery waited for her day to begin. The phone charger remained exactly where she had put it.
I hope you've enjoyed spending this time with Nina and Mal.
Not Going Upstairs the bonus chapter begins immediately after the events of The Last Ferry Home, when Nina and Mal are finally hoping for one quiet evening together without a ferry problem, a committee, a neighbour or the rest of Rosehill taking an interest.
Naturally, Rosehill has other ideas.
Read your exclusive bonus chapter below.
Feel free to subscribe to the Eliza Flint Readers Inner Circle while you're here!
Thank you for reading The Last Ferry Home
Romance with genuine emotional, spicy heat.
We deserve romances about people who should know better, but choose the beautiful, sun-drenched trouble anyway. Real love is messy, witty and worth the gossip.