Kitabı oku: «Love Affairs», sayfa 19

CHAPTER FOUR

THE REST OF the day crawled by.

She admitted her acute abdo, moved on to a wrist fracture, dealt with indigestion that turned out to be a partially blocked coronary artery and went home, her emotions in turmoil.

She was meeting him that evening at his house, at nine. Time for her to put the girls to bed and get ready, time for him to finish his shift and put his grandfather to bed and come home. She’d phoned and asked her mother already if she would mind babysitting that evening, made the excuse of being busy at work to avoid getting trapped into a difficult conversation, and now she was walking up the path to the matriarchal version of the Spanish Inquisition.

Not that her mother would ask any questions, or anything. She didn’t need to. She’d just look, and know, in that uncanny way mothers had. Annie understood that. She was beginning to do it herself. Which made it even more disturbing.

The girls, however, were on their own, to her relief, kneeling up at the dining table in a riot of paper and crayons.

‘Mummy!’

The welcome, as ever, centred her and she crossed over to them, bathed in the sunshine of their smiles.

‘Hello, my lovelies,’ she said, hugging them and admiring their drawings, and then her mother came back into the room and her guilt came rushing back to haunt her.

‘Hello, darling. Good day?’ she asked, putting the kettle on, and then without missing a beat asked, ‘What time are you going out?’

‘Just before nine,’ she said, and she could feel colour crawling up her neck and heading for her face. ‘I’ll just go and change out of my work clothes.’

She fled, shutting herself in her room and pressing herself against the inside of the door. She could feel her heartbeat, a steady, insistent throb that echoed throughout her body, and she did not want to have this conversation with her mother in front of the children!

Should she lie?

Maybe, this time at least, because if it was a total disaster, if he took one look at her naked body and wanted to run, then she wouldn’t have the humiliation of having to explain to her mother why it wouldn’t be happening again.

Cutting off that line of thought before she talked herself out of going, she stripped off her clothes, pulled on her jeans and a T-shirt and went back to the kitchen and normality. ‘That’s better. Oh, is that tea for me? Thanks, Mum.’

She sat down at the table with the children and listened to their chatter with half an ear. There had been a bit of a ruckus at nursery. One of the boys had pushed one of the girls over, and he’d been made to stand on the naughty spot all day! Well, according to Chloe it had been all day, but Grace thought it was only after milk and biscuits, so that wasn’t all day. All day was breakfast to supper, wasn’t it?

‘I expect it felt like all day,’ she said, mediating with the bit of her brain that wasn’t wondering what on earth she’d agreed to. ‘Right, girls, put the crayons away, please, it’s nearly time for your bath and bed.’

‘But I haven’t finished!’ Chloe protested.

‘So put it away and finish it tomorrow. Come on, it’s bathtime and if you mess around now you won’t get a story.’

Chloe put it away. Stories were sacrosanct, and the mere suggestion was enough to ensure her cooperation. If it hadn’t been, Grace would have taken the picture from her and put it away herself, she thought with an inward smile.

She chivvied them into the bathroom, perched on the loo and listened to more of the little boy’s misdemeanours as the girls played in the bath and soaped themselves.

‘Don’t get your hair wet, it doesn’t need washing tonight,’ she reminded them, and then one by one she dried them, cleaned their teeth and sent them to get into their pyjamas.

They had two stories, mostly because she felt so guilty about the ‘me time’ that was coming that she was overcompensating, and then, unable to stall any longer, she tucked them up in bed and went to brave her mother.

‘Gosh, that smells good,’ she said, going back into the kitchen.

‘Shepherd’s pie. Nice and simple, and the girls love it.’

‘I love it, too. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate coming home every evening to a cooked meal and safe, happy children. Will you marry me?’

Her mother laughed and hugged her. ‘Silly girl. I’d be lonely without you all.’

‘Well, good, because it’s not likely to happen.’

And seamlessly, as if the two thoughts were connected, which they probably were, knowing her mother, she said, ‘So, where are you going tonight? Anywhere nice?’

Her heart skipped a beat. ‘I’m meeting Ed for a drink,’ she told her. It was the truth, or as close to it as she intended to get. She was sure that at some point in the proceedings they’d have a drink, and it was a nice simple social thing that didn’t necessarily have any massive implications.

Except that of course it did, for them, and she felt her heart thump and the colour creeping up again towards her cheeks.

‘That’s nice,’ her mother said, setting the pie dish on the table and pulling up her chair. ‘So what are you going to wear?’

‘Oh, nothing smart,’ she said, wondering herself what would be appropriate. Lacy underwear? No underwear—?

‘Jeans and a top?’ she offered hastily, mentally fanning herself.

‘Will you be inside or out? It can get chilly if you’re sitting outside at the pub.’

‘Oh, I doubt if we’ll do that. It’s a bit breezy today.’ Especially with no underwear—

‘Well, take a jacket just in case. There’s nothing worse than being too cold.’

Cold? Cold? Not a chance she’d be too cold. She was practically catching fire at the thought of what was to come. The only thing that was stopping her from spontaneous combustion was the little icy finger of dread crawling up her spine at the thought of taking off her clothes in front of someone so beautiful and having to endure the disappointment in his eyes.

‘I’ll take a jacket,’ she said. ‘I’m going to walk there and back in any case. Yum, this is delicious. Thank you. So, what have you been up to today? Done anything nice?’

* * *

So there it was.

Number fifty-six, in shiny letters on the gate. She glanced up and down the street, but it was deserted, and she opened the gate and went through into the carport. There was a car in there, a sleek, wicked-looking BMW convertible that had bad boy written all over it, and as she closed the gate she heard the scrape of a chair and he ducked through a curtain of wisteria and walked slowly towards her.

He was dressed, like her, in jeans, with a washed-out blue cotton shirt open at the neck, and he looked good enough to eat. He gave a slight smile, and she thought he looked—relieved?

He stopped a few feet away. ‘Hi. I wasn’t sure you’d come,’ he admitted, and the touch of vulnerability took away some of her nerves.

‘I said I would,’ she told him, although she’d hesitated at the gate. Her heart was trying to climb out of her chest, her mouth was dry and her legs felt like boiled noodles, but he held out his hand and she walked up to him and put her hand in his, and he drew her to his side, dropped a gentle, undemanding kiss on her cheek and ushered her through the trailing wisteria to the secluded garden.

It was beautiful, heavy with the scent of honeysuckle, touched with the last rays of the evening sun, and it enclosed them in a little green haven. It could have been the garden of Eden, and any minute now she expected the serpent to appear with an apple.

No serpent. Just Ed, his hand warm on her spine, leading her to a little bistro set tucked into a sheltered corner. ‘I’ve got a bottle of Prosecco on ice, or if you don’t fancy that I have wine, juice, tea and coffee—all sorts,’ he said.

There was an ice bucket on the table, next to a pair of elegant champagne flutes and a cluster of bowls, and she sat down just before her legs gave way.

‘Prosecco sounds lovely. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. How was your mother about it?’

‘Fine. I told her I was going for a drink with you.’

‘Well, you’re not lying, then, are you?’ he murmured, and twisted the cork out with a soft pop. Vapour poured like smoke out of the open neck of the bottle, and he poured the wine carefully into the glasses, put the bottle back on ice and then handed her a glass.

‘To us,’ he said softly, and she met his smouldering eyes and felt the heat in them spread through her body like wildfire.

‘To us,’ she repeated, and then she didn’t quite know what to say, so she dragged her eyes away from his before she drowned in their midnight depths.

He snagged a handful of nuts and sat down, sprawling back in the chair and crunching them up with those almost perfect, even teeth, and she reached for an olive and bit into it for something to do.

The tension was palpable, and she took a sip of the Prosecco. Bubbles tickled her nose and she wrinkled it, and he smiled. ‘Tickles, doesn’t it?’ he murmured, and she nodded.

His eyes searched hers, and he smiled ruefully.

‘Annie, relax. We’re having a drink. That’s all.’

That was all? She felt the tension drain out of her like a punctured balloon, and then a wash of something that felt curiously like disappointment.

‘OK.’

He chuckled and leant forward. ‘It doesn’t have to be all,’ he clarified. ‘It could be more.’ And his eyes trapped hers and dragged her in.

More? Oh, Lord, she wanted more...

‘Why don’t we start with the drink?’ she said, almost managing to keep the squeak out of her voice, and his mouth kicked up at the side.

‘Good idea. How are the kids?’

‘Fine,’ she said, not wanting to think about the fact that she was a mother. Not now, not in this situation. It seemed—inappropriate, somehow, as if that was another person. ‘How’s your grandfather?’

‘Rubbish.’ His smile died, and he looked away. ‘He’s going downhill. I don’t know how long he’s got, but I hope it’s not much longer. It’s just so painful to watch, and it’s tearing my grandmother apart.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah.’ He was silent for a moment, then he took a breath and turned back to her. ‘I meant to tell you, there’s a little wooden playhouse in their garden. They had it for my brother’s children, but they’ve outgrown it. I wasn’t sure if you’d got room for it or if you’d want it, but you’re welcome to it if it’s any use.’

‘Oh, Ed, thank you. The girls would love a playhouse! Does it come to pieces?’

‘I’m sure it will. I’m not sure how. It might be bolted together. I’ll have a look. It needs new felt on the roof, but otherwise it’s fine.’

‘Don’t they mind?’

He smiled sadly. ‘Grumps is past caring and Marnie would love it to go to a good home. I was talking about you yesterday, and she mentioned it.’

That surprised her. ‘You were talking about me?’

‘Well—yeah. She has a way of getting things out of me,’ he admitted ruefully.

Annie gave a hollow laugh. ‘Sounds like my mother. We’ll have to make sure they never meet. We wouldn’t have a secret left.’

He chuckled and topped up her glass. She hadn’t even realised it was empty. She was obviously drinking faster than she’d realised. Nerves? Probably. She was terrified this was going to be a disaster, terrified he’d take one look at her and run, terrified he’d break her heart if she gave him the chance. What was she doing? She grabbed a couple of olive breadsticks to blot up the alcohol. ‘These are really nice.’

‘They are.’ He took one, too, then reached for another one at the same time as her and their fingers brushed. Heat shot up her arm like lightning, and she gave a little involuntary gasp and pulled her hand back.

Their eyes clashed—and held.

Her heart started to race, her lips parted, her mouth dried. She swallowed, and slid the tip of her tongue over her dry lips, and he sucked in a breath. Audibly.

For what seemed like minutes but was probably only a few seconds, they sat there, eyes locked, unmoving, and then he got slowly, deliberately, to his feet.

Without breaking the silence he put the breadstick down with exaggerated care and held out his hand to her. Her breadstick fell to the floor, unheeded, and she took his hand and let him pull her up. Gently, inch by inch, he eased her up against him, bent his head and touched his lips to hers, and her body went up in flames.

‘Ed...’

She breathed his name against his lips, and he lifted his head, staring down into her eyes as if looking for an answer, and clearly he found it.

‘Not here,’ he growled softly, and, threading his fingers through hers, he towed her in through the conservatory, through the open kitchen dining space, up the stairs and into the front bedroom.

It was white.

Pure white. All of it, the whole house.

Like a sanctuary, she thought, cool and calm and safe.

And then he cupped her face in his strong, long-fingered hands, bent his head and kissed her, and her brain emptied of everything except sensation.

His mouth was hot.

Hot, firm, his lips slightly damp so they clung to hers, tugging them as he nipped and suckled. She felt his tongue stroke the crease between her lips, and her mouth opened, parting for him, his tongue following, delving, probing.

She delved back, duelling with him, dragging a groan up from deep inside his chest.

She felt her legs buckle, but he grabbed her, hauling her hard up against him so she felt the heat pouring off him, the pressure of his erection, the pounding of his heart against her breasts.

And the need. Oh, God, the need. She felt it too, felt the wanting, the desperation, the compulsion to tear off their clothes and feel his skin against hers.

She pushed him away, and he dropped his hands, stepped sharply back and met her eyes. He was fighting for control, struggling for breath, and his eyes were wild.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ he asked, his voice ragged, and she gave a fractured laugh, her nerves driven out by something far greater.

‘Only if you want me to kill you.’

His eyes shut briefly, and when he opened them she was smiling. ‘Hell’s teeth, Annie. Come here, woman.’

He pulled her back gently into his reach, his fingers shaking as he undid her blouse one infuriating little pearly button at a time. Why the hell hadn’t she worn the jersey dress? One move and it would have been off, and he’d be touching her, holding her, burying himself inside her—

Hanging on to his control by a thread, he peeled the blouse back over her shoulders, trapping her arms, and then he let his eyes rake her breasts.

Pretty, delicate lace encased them, coffee and cream. He wondered idly if it was the same bra he’d soaked in coffee the other day. Hell, if he’d only known this was underneath those scrubs...

He swore under his breath, lowered his head and trailed his tongue slowly, so slowly around the edge of the lace, blowing lightly over the damp skin. She whimpered, but he didn’t stop. Instead he slid one hand up her back, fisted it in her hair and pulled her head back gently, his mouth trailing upwards, over her throat, pausing in the hollow where her pulse was pounding.

He could feel it under his tongue, the heavy throb of her need. Good. He wanted her with him every step of the way.

She whimpered again, writhing against him. ‘Kiss me...’

‘I am.’

Not like that. More...

His lips moved along her jaw, up to her ear, his tongue brushing the lobe and sending arrows stabbing through her core.

‘Ed, please...’

He lifted his head and stared down at her. ‘Tell me what you want.’

Oh, mercy.

‘You,’ she said bluntly. ‘Right now. I’ve been thinking about this for days and— Oh!’

She landed in the middle of the bed, arms still trapped behind her by her sleeves, and he unzipped her jeans.

‘Lift up,’ he ordered, and she dug her heels in, lifted her bottom and he stripped the jeans off her legs and threw them on the floor. One finger hooked into the top of her tiny lace shorts, and he gave a little tug. She lifted again, and he eased them down, down, over her knees, past her calves, over her ankles, his eyes following them every inch of the way.

They fell to the floor, and she lay there staring up at him, propped on her elbows and feeling desperately vulnerable, while his eyes raked her body dispassionately.

No. That was wrong. He looked up at last, and there was nothing dispassionate about the fire that burned in those eyes. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him, and she squirmed with frustration.

‘Please...’

The word came out jagged and broken, and his mouth kicked up in a teasing, wicked smile.

‘Since you ask so nicely.’

He didn’t hang about. He pulled his shirt off over his head, shucked his jeans and boxers in one movement, and then reached for a foil packet.

‘Let me.’

She struggled up, freeing her arms at last from the wretched blouse, and took it from him, rolling the condom slowly, firmly down the silken shaft of his erection.

He sucked in his breath, held it for a second then tipped her backwards, coming down on top of her, every muscle taut with control. Her legs wrapped around him, drawing him closer as he surged into her, filling her and bringing tears of relief to her eyes, and she clung to his shoulders, her fingers digging in, gripping him as he drove into her again.

‘Oh, that’s so good,’ he ground out, and then he rolled over, taking her with him, lying flat on his back as he looked up at her.

‘And that’s even better,’ he murmured, his hands reaching up and cupping her breasts, still in the confines of her bra. ‘Take it off for me. I want to see you.’

She hesitated for a second, swamped by doubts again. Her breasts were no longer pert and firm. She’d fed twins, for heaven’s sake! But he arched a brow in mock impatience, so she sucked in a breath and reached behind her back, arching a little to do it, and he lifted his hips and she gasped. ‘Ed—’

‘Nice?’

‘Nice isn’t really the word,’ she gritted, and he gave a slow, warm laugh that vibrated deep inside her.

The bra dropped away, freeing her breasts, and for a moment she held her breath. She needn’t have worried. He lifted his hands, cradled them gently and sighed.

‘Oh, that’s better,’ he murmured, his thumbs grazing gently over her nipples, dragging out every last ounce of sensation until she cried out and writhed against him. And then he smiled that wicked smile again and started moving, and she felt the tension grip her tighter, felt it spiral up until at last he flipped her beneath him, pinning her down as he drove into her again and again and took her with him over the edge into freefall.

* * *

Wow.

Just—wow.

He hadn’t really expected this. He’d been half joking when he’d asked her. Not that he hadn’t meant it, but he’d never for a moment imagined she’d take him seriously, far less say yes.

And she’d blown him away, with her openness, her courage, her astonishing responsiveness. He still couldn’t quite believe it had happened.

He touched her face gently with his fingertips, and she tilted her head towards him and smiled shyly. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi, yourself. OK?’

Her smile widened, and she nodded. ‘Very OK.’

‘Good. I’ll be back in a moment,’ he murmured. He eased his arm out from under her, snagged his jeans off the floor and headed for the bathroom, then went downstairs, locked the back gate, brought the Prosecco and nibbles back in on the tray and carried them up to the bedroom.

‘Interval refreshments,’ he said with a wicked grin, and got back into bed beside her, propping himself up against the pillows and holding out her glass.

She sat up cross-legged in the bed, tucked the quilt around her and took the glass from him. ‘Thanks. I wondered where you’d gone.’

His grin was wry. ‘I thought a little security might be in order. We left the back gate unlocked and the doors hanging open.’

‘Ah.’

‘And the Prosecco downstairs.’

‘Bad move. That would have been a waste.’ She sipped, then frowned, and he could see reality starting to intrude. ‘What time is it? I forgot to put my watch on after my shower.’

‘Ten past ten.’

Her shoulders dropped. ‘Oh. That’s good. I thought it must be later.’

‘What time is your mother expecting you home?’

She shrugged, lifting her shoulders and causing the quilt to slip enticingly. ‘I told her it would probably be elevenish.’

His smile was slow and lazy, and full of promise.

‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘That gives us lots more time. Drink up.’

* * *

He walked her home.

‘You don’t need to,’ she told him, but he just arched a brow.

‘Yes, I do,’ he said, his voice implacable, and he walked her right to the door.

She turned to him, unsure what to say. Thank you for the best sex of my life? That didn’t seem quite appropriate, but it was the truth.

In the end she just looked up at him, and he smiled knowingly. ‘We should do that again some time,’ he said innocently, and she nearly laughed out loud.

‘That would be lovely.’

She went up on tiptoe and pressed a fleeting kiss to his cheek. ‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’

This time there was no mistaking the meaning in his eyes, and she swallowed and took a step back. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Annie. Sweet dreams.’

He didn’t kiss her goodnight. He’d already done that very thoroughly before they’d left the house, but he stayed there until she was safely inside.

She closed the door quietly and leant against it, centring herself, listening to the sound of his retreating footsteps. The television was still on in the sitting room, and she went in, wondering if she looked as thoroughly loved as she had been, and smiled brightly at her mother.

‘Hi. Want a cup of tea?’

‘No, thanks, darling. I’m just watching the last five minutes of this and I’m off to bed. Good time?’

‘Yes, thanks. Very nice.’

Hardly the word, but there you go. But it had been nice in many ways. Very nice. Nice to have time to herself, nice to be the focus of someone’s undivided attention, nice to be so thoroughly and spectacularly loved.

Except it wasn’t love, and she didn’t want it to be. And neither did he.

But it had certainly been spectacular.

Win-win.

‘I think I’ll just get a glass of water and go to bed, then, if you’re not staying up,’ she said, glad she didn’t have to stay and chat while her mother grilled her. ‘Thanks for looking after the girls. I take it they didn’t wake up?’

‘No, they’re fast asleep, I haven’t had a peep out of them.’

‘Bless you. I’ll go and tuck them up. ’Night, Mum.’ She dropped a kiss on her mother’s cheek, checked the girls and went into the bathroom. She caught a glimpse of her naked body in the mirror, and her eyes widened.

Whisker-burn, over her nipples, around her collar bone, a touch of it across her lip.

She touched it, remembering the feel of his mouth, the slight rasp of stubble on her body. So, so sexy. And he hadn’t recoiled in horror when he’d seen her. Far from it. He’d even come back for more...

Smiling to herself, she cleaned her teeth, took off her make-up and went to bed.

* * *

He strolled slowly home, the smile that wouldn’t seem to fade teasing the corners of his mouth.

For some crazy reason, probably because it had been a while, he’d been really wound up before she’d arrived, but her own nerves had calmed him and once he’d kissed her, any hesitation had gone. Well and truly.

He blew his breath out slowly through his mouth. She’d been so responsive, so warm, so ready, so generous. She’d held nothing back, and neither had he, and it had been amazing.

As far as he was concerned, the evening had been a definite success. He was pretty sure she agreed, but time would tell. He’d see her at work in the morning. Sheesh. That would be a challenge. It had been difficult enough before.

He shut the gate behind him and locked it, then walked across the garden. There was a crunch, and he looked down and saw the breadstick on the paving. She’d dropped it when he’d pulled her to her feet, right before he’d kissed her. He closed his eyes briefly as the memory crashed over him, leaving fire in its wake.

He wanted her again. Now. This minute.

But he couldn’t have her. There was a time and a place, and this wasn’t it.

He sent her a text.

Great evening. Thank you. See you tomorrow.

His phone pinged, and he pulled up the reply.

The pleasure was all mine ;-) A x

He smiled, keyed in his reply and hit Send.

Two streets away, Annie opened his reply.

I think not. We should check it out again some time soon.

She grinned. It couldn’t be soon enough.

Whenever you’re ready.

She typed with her lip caught between her teeth, excitement and anticipation fizzing in her veins.

She hit Send, put the phone down on her bedside table, snuggled down under the quilt and lay there hugging her feelings to her chest. He’d been—amazing, really. Warm, funny, sexy—oh, yes, so-o-o sexy—and after the initial few moments he’d seemed more relaxed than she’d ever seen him.

She thought about his grandfather, and ached for him. He was gutted. It was obvious how much he loved the old man, obvious how much they were all hurting. No wonder he’d needed this so much, a time out from the inescapable reality of life and death.

Old age could bring many joys and pleasures, but it could also bring great sadness. She knew this. She’d lost her father before she was old enough to understand, but she’d watched her grandmother and mother cope with the loss of her own grandfather only a few years ago, and she knew first-hand the impact such a loss had on a family.

Well, that was fine. He could chill out with her, take time out from the hellish emotional roller coaster they were riding, and she could have some simple, uncomplicated fun, something that had been sorely lacking from her life for the past three years.

Except for the girls. The girls were fun, great fun, and she adored them, but tonight...

Tonight had been personal.

Deeply personal, she thought, and heat washed through her again at some of the things he’d done to her. She was sure they’d barely scratched the surface of his repertoire, but it hadn’t for a moment felt sordid or tacky. Far from it. He’d made her feel special, cherished. Beautiful.

She rolled to her side, hugged her pillow close and waited for sleep to come. She wouldn’t sleep, she knew that. She was so wired—

The yawn caught her by surprise. Her muscles ached, she felt tired and relaxed, as if she’d just had a workout. Her mouth tilted into a sleepy smile. Funny, that...