Book One: Thirty Days, Book 1

by Bibi Paterson

  “But—”

  “Not tonight, Taylor!” I say, more sharply than intended. “I…I just can’t deal with anything else tonight,” I say in more moderate tones.

  “Okay. I’ll be back in a minute.” Taylor leaves the room, and I hear banging around. I am lost in my thoughts when Taylor returns with a tray holding a steaming bowl of soup and some bread—chicken soup, I think, judging by the delicious aroma. “You need to eat something so you can take those painkillers.”

  Despite the delicious smell, I am not sure I can hold anything down. I take a tentative mouthful, and while I know I am not going to manage more than a few sips, I do my best, even managing to force down a sliver of bread.

  “I am sorry, Taylor. That’s all I can manage,” I say, pushing the tray gently away. Without a word, he hands me two pills, and I swallow them with some of the water he hands me. I can see Taylor is struggling with some inner demons, and I sense he needs to talk but is trying desperately to give me the space I want. Taking the tray, Taylor heads back to the kitchen, and I crawl under the covers. The painkillers and pain take their toll, and I have barely rolled over before I am asleep.

  .........................

  The pain is astonishing. Hands beat me and voices scream words like ‘whore’ and ‘bitch’. I struggle to free myself, but my arms are held firm. I hear Richard laughing and smell the stench of his breath on my face. I scream.

  “Abby. Abby, wake up. It’s only a dream.” Taylor’s words jolt me back to the present, and I can feel the sweat pouring off me. Taylor’s hands work to free my arms from the sheet I have managed to tangle myself up in. I am breathing hard, and I can feel the tears leaking down my face. When my arms are finally free, I fling them round Taylor’s neck and sob into his chest. He cradles me gently, stroking my hair until I calm down a little. Tender kisses fall on my head, my cheek, my ear. Instinct drives me forward, and I turn, pulling Taylor’s mouth to mine. We kiss slowly and Taylor cups my face, taking care not to press on my damaged cheek.

  The kiss intensifies, and all I want is Taylor to make me whole. I can feel the lust building in Taylor, and I wriggle around until I am lying on my back and Taylor is hovering above me, his strong thighs between my legs. As if suddenly coming to his senses, Taylor starts and pulls back. “No, Abby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Please, Taylor. I feel like he is still all over me. Please take that away. I need you to replace the dark and ugly with light. I need you.” The pleading in my voice is clear, but I can see Taylor is uncertain. “I know you would never hurt me. If it gets too much, I’ll tell you.”

  “Promise?” Taylor whispers.

  “Promise,” I reassure him, and his gaze softens. Slowly Taylor starts placing gentle kisses all over my body. His hands place loving caresses across my skin, raising goosebumps across my sensitive flesh. I can feel my arousal building and sense his surprise when he cups my sex and finds me wet and aching for him. He slides his fingers across my clitoris, and warm sparks fill my belly.

  “Abby, you are so beautiful. Always so ready.” Taylor’s murmur tickles my ear as I feel him reach across me into the drawer beside the bed. He freezes and I hear his curse under his breath. “Shit, I’m out.” It takes me a moment to realise he doesn’t have any condoms, and decide that I need him too much. I pull Taylor’s face back to mine.

  “Please, Taylor. I was tested after what happened to me. I am clean. Please, I need you.” Taylor’s eyes bore into mine, and I can see momentary hesitation.

  “Are you sure about this, Abby? I mean, I have never been without a condom, but still, are you sure?”

  “I am sure. Please, Taylor. I’ll sort it tomorrow. I just need you in me. Please.”

  Taylor searches my face and then nods slowly and brings his lips down to mine. I feel Taylor nudge his head at my opening, and I pull my legs further apart to allow him access. Very gently he eases into me, cradling my body as if I am made of porcelain. When I am finally full, I feel the smile stretch on my lips, knowing that this is where I belong. Still kissing me with the utmost tenderness, Taylor starts to rock into my body. I can feel myself responding, my muscles clenching around him with a ferocity that surprises us both. I can feel my orgasm building as he strokes my clit and his cock starts pushing at that very sensitive place deep within my core. When we both come, it is not the normal fast-and-furious sensation of stars and falling but, rather, the most overwhelming wave of pleasure I have ever felt, and it seems to last a millennia. When I look into Taylor’s eyes, I know that I have fallen deeply and irrevocably in love.

  “That was amazing, baby,” Taylor murmurs into my ear, breathing heavily. “You are amazing. The feeling of me in you like that, I never knew it could be like that.” Taylor slowly eases out of me, kissing my brow and the tip of my nose. I smile up at him shyly, feeling just as affected by what has just happened. Taylor scoops me into his embrace and continues kissing the side of my face and neck until I slip into a peaceful slumber.

  The Twelfth

  Taylor is gone when I wake up. I test my limbs and surprisingly I am in better shape than I anticipated. Thank heavens for super-strength painkillers! I throw on a robe and make my way to the kitchen, where I find a pot of hot coffee, more painkillers and a cinnamon muffin waiting for me. A short note lets me know that Taylor has had to duck out for a meeting and will be back after lunch. The kisses at the end of the note cause the butterflies in my stomach to swirl. As I drink my coffee and take small bites of my muffin, knowing I need to eat before I can take any more of the magic painkillers, I reflect back on our lovemaking last night. Because that was what it was, not fucking or doing ‘it’, as many people so eloquently put it. I pad back into the bedroom to retrieve my phone, which Taylor had so thoughtfully plugged in beside the bed to charge, and make a call to get an appointment with my doctor. Pregnant at twenty-one is not part of my life plan!

  I look over at my pile of clothes, and a feeling of revulsion fills me. I have nothing else to wear, so I gingerly pick through them. My jeans are fine, but my jumper and T-shirt are covered in blood and I can’t find my pants. There is nothing else for it but to raid Taylor’s cupboard. As I step into his dressing area, I am overwhelmed by the scent of him. I feel guilty for going through his drawers, but I know I need something to wear home and then I can change. I pull on a pair of Taylor’s boxers, a plain white T-shirt and a forest-green hooded sweatshirt that I find neatly folded on a shelf. I pull on my jeans, slip my feet into my Converse and find my bag, which somehow Taylor remembered to bring with him despite everything going on last night. I check the contents and am relieved to find my keys, which I couldn’t remember pocketing before Richard attacked me.

  My trip home is quick and uneventful. I listen to music on my MP3 player to keep my nerves in check. As I round the corner, I start getting flashbacks to the previous night. My whole body starts to shake, but I steel myself and walk determinedly to the front door. I check several times that there is no one lurking before I let myself in and quickly slam the door shut. There is no evidence of what happened last night bar a small dent in the wall where Richard pushed me.

  I walk through quickly and head up the two flights of stairs to get to the top landing. Call it intuition, or something else, but the higher I climb the more the hair on the back of my neck starts to stand on end. By the time I am facing my door, my stomach is telling me something is seriously not right. It is then that I notice my door is slightly ajar. Images of every horror movie I have ever watched flick through my mind as I slowly walk towards the door. It is normally at this point that I am screaming at the stupid girl to walk down the stairs and out the door and call the police, but something compels me forward.

  I push the door open and gasp at the scene of devastation in front of me. Stepping backwards, I fumble trying to retrieve my phone from my bag. Scrolling into my phone, I find Taylor’s text message and hit the number to dial it with shaking fingers. Taylor answers on the second ring.


  “Morning, beautiful. How are you this morning?” His voice is a balm to my nerves, but even so, I can’t control the tremble in my voice.

  “Not good, Taylor,” I whisper. “Um, my flat…it’s been trashed.”

  “What the fuck?” Taylor’s voice is steel, and I visibly flinch. “What the hell are you doing there, Abby?”

  Tears fall silently. “I made an appointment with the doctor to sort out last night, but I needed some clean clothes. Please don’t be mad at me, Taylor.” I can’t bear that his anger is directed at me.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Taylor’s voice is softer, but I can still detect the anger as he hangs up the phone. I slump down in the hallway and sob quietly while I wait. The minutes pass, and before I realise what is happening, Taylor is scooping me up in his arms and kissing the top of my head. “I am so sorry, baby. I am not mad at you.” He wipes the tears from my eyes and turns to step into the flat. We walk into the centre of my studio, and in a few glances I can tell nothing has been spared.

  Everything has been emptied out of cupboards and drawers. My clothes have been slashed, my pictures smashed or ripped. My bedding, including the quilt Nonna made for me, and pillows have been ripped apart, and there are feathers everywhere. I turn to the kitchen and it doesn’t look like anything there has been spared either.

  “I am calling the police.” Taylor’s voice is arctic, and I suppress a shiver.

  “Okay,” I say in a small voice. With a start I remember my laptop. I am normally lazy and shove it under the bed when I shut it down at night, and this seems to have played in my favour. I drop to my knees and see it is still where I left it, untouched. I know better than to touch anything whilst we wait for the police; I have watched enough of those CSI crime shows. I walk back into the hallway and wait while Taylor taps away on his phone.

  The police are very efficient, and when Taylor explains what happened the previous evening, they immediately start asking lots of questions. I am in a bit of a daze and struggle to be coherent, but I manage to get main points across. They want me to come down to the station to photograph me, and Taylor agrees to a time later that afternoon. My head and side start to throb with pain as the painkillers start to wear off. Noticing my pallor, Taylor insists on taking me home, leaving our contact details with the sergeant in charge.

  We have just pulled away when Taylor’s phone rings. I can hear the person on the other end talking urgently and see Taylor’s whole body tense up. “Fuck!” he explodes as he hangs up, thumping the steering wheel with his hand. I have never seen Taylor like this, and if I am honest, I am starting to feel uneasy.

  “Change of plan, Abs. We can’t go back to the apartment today.”

  “Um, okay? Can I ask why, or are you going to yell at me?” I try to keep it light, but I can see the veins in Taylor’s neck pulsing.

  “Richard has just broken into the apartment.” Taylor’s voice is low, and I can see he is trying to rein himself in.

  “What? How?” I stammer. “How on earth did he get in? I mean, you have so much security.”

  “Exactly.” Taylor’s mouth is set in a grim line, and I can see the cogs whirring. I pity the poor person who will be on the end of Taylor’s wrath. He bangs his hand against the steering wheel before doing an abrupt U-turn. I close my eyes to try and ease the throbbing in my temples, when I feel Taylor’s hand taking mine and rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. The roar of the car’s engine dulls my senses, leaving me to drift into my thoughts.

  I am brought back to the present when the engine abruptly shuts off. I open my eyes to find Taylor has already jumped out and is opening my door. “Where are we?” I query.

  “The Savoy. Come on.” Taylor pulls me out of the car, and I am immediately blown away by the opulence of the front hall as he leads me towards the reception desk. I notice a couple of people staring, and I can feel the blush rising in my face, aware of how I must look in my jeans and sweatshirt, plus the great big bruise on my face.

  Within minutes we are being led into a suite with the most amazing views of London and the Thames. It is simply spectacular, and I am not really sure why we are here. I turn to Taylor but notice he is already on the phone, talking urgently in low tones.

  “That’s not good enough, Henry. How the hell was Richard able to get into the apartment?” I can’t make out the response on the other end, but it doesn’t seem to please him.

  “Well, just get it sorted. I can’t ever have Abby in that kind of danger again.” He puts down the phone and walks across to me, enveloping me in an all-consuming hug. In his arms I feel completely protected, despite everything that is going on.

  “Abby, look, we need to talk about all of this, but I have to get some stuff sorted first and then we need to head down to the station. Can you trust me to pick this up later?” I find his words odd, but I realise that I trust Taylor with my life. And truthfully, my head is still pounding and all I want to do is take a painkiller and lie down.

  “That’s fine, Taylor. I think I will just lie down and have a nap, if that’s okay with you?”

  “Of course, sweetheart.” Taylor kisses the top of my head and leads me through to the bedroom. I strip off my trousers and sweatshirt but leave on Taylor’s underwear and T-shirt while he fiddles around in the mini bar, getting me some water. When he turns around and takes in what I am wearing, he chuckles and I can see the desire in his eyes. I smile back at him as he crosses the room and takes me in his arms.

  “You little minx. All I can think about is fucking you right now.” The growl in Taylor’s voice is fierce but sends sparks right through me. “But you need to sleep, so into bed, my little one, before I lose control of myself.” Taylor pats me lightly on the bottom, making me giggle. He tucks me in, making sure I take a painkiller, and then gently strokes my injured cheek before kissing me lightly on my lips. I close my eyes and drift away.

  It feels like minutes, but in truth half the day has gone by when I open my eyes again. I can see the lights of London going on through the window, and it makes me remember where we are. I smile as I take in the luxury of the room. It is not really my taste, but I can appreciate it nonetheless. The furnishings are exquisite, and I cast my memory back to an article I read about this famous hotel’s restoration. This is beyond what I could have ever imagined, and here I am. Little old Abigail James, a nobody, staying in such a fancy place.

  I notice Taylor sitting through the door, working on his laptop. As if sensing I am awake, he looks up and catches my eye. “Hey, gorgeous,” he says as he comes to sit next to me. “I was just about to wake you up. How are you feeling?” The concern in his voice touches me to my core. I have never had anyone else look after me like this apart from Nonna.

  “All good, thanks,” I murmur. “What time do we need to get to the station?” I ask, suddenly remembering.

  “I have arranged for them to come here in thirty minutes,” Taylor explains. “I managed to persuade them to come here rather than taking you down to the station.”

  “Wow, you must have some powers of persuasion, then.” I giggle gently.

  “Don’t you know it, baby.” Taylor’s voice is husky, and I am instantly turned on. Oh my, this man manages to make even the simplest conversation sexy.

  “Hmmm,” I murmur as I feel the wetness in my pants, or rather, Taylor’s.

  “You are just too delicious in these,” he says, flicking the waistband gently. “You’ll have to wear my underwear more often.”

  “Oh, will I now?” I tease.

  Taylor slowly slides his hand down, his fingers brushing through my pubic hair until he finds my sweet spot. “Always so wet and ready for me,” he murmurs before slipping his finger inside of me. I stifle a moan as he starts fucking me slowly with his finger. I find his lips, greedy for more kisses, and tug on his lower one. Taylor grunts and I can feel him getting harder through his trousers. Taylor slips his finger out of me and sucks on it with a wicked grin on his face. I am so turned on I th
ink I am about to burst into flames.

  “Please, Taylor, now.” I am panting hard, and the need to have him inside of me is driving me crazy. In seconds Taylor is naked, his back into the pillows as he pulls me so that I am straddling his hips. He pulls on a condom and then gently guides my hips down until I am full to the hilt. At this angle I feel everything. Gripping my hands, he starts moving his hips, never breaking eye contact. I feel wanton and free, so different from when Taylor is on top of me, and I throw back my head, arching my back fully. Taylor reaches up to caress my breasts with one hand, all the while maintaining our pace with his other hand on my hip. It is too much, and the flames building in my abdomen crackle and explode. I come with a ferocity that surprises us both. Taylor is not far behind, and as his breathing slows he pulls me forward so that my forehead is resting on his. Gently he kisses me on the tip of my nose, an action that is becoming more and more familiar to me, and I kiss him back, closing my eyes to savour the moment. Taylor slowly lifts me off his lap and checks the time.

  “I think we need to get presentable,” Taylor says with a grin. “Detective Stanton is going to be here shortly.” I give him a grin and head into the en-suite, where I find the biggest walk-in shower I have ever seen. I shower quickly, using the gorgeous-smelling complimentary toiletries I find in the bathroom. I walk back through wrapped in a towel and glance down at my clothes in dismay, wishing I had something clean to wear. Taylor walks through the door, completely dressed again in his usual work trousers and button-down shirt.

  As if he has read my mind, Taylor holds out a large yellow Selfridges bag to me and says, “I thought you might want something clean to wear.” I grin at him in response. “You’d better hurry. They are on their way up,” he adds.

  I tip the bag onto the bed and sort through the jumble of clothes. I have no idea how Taylor knows my size, but everything looks like it will fit perfectly. I have plenty of curves and normally struggle to find clothes that fit nicely. Plus I usually would never dream of wearing designer clothes, as my parents have always drummed it into me that I was too ‘big-boned’ to get into anything couture.