He obviously knew me better than I thought. He sighed deeply as he placed his hand on my shivering thigh. ‘Can’t we just see where this goes?’ I asked. ‘You won’t hurt me. You’ll only hurt me if I let you, and I’m not planning on doing that.’
His large hand started rubbing up and down my thigh, his breathing heavy but fast as he stared at me with longing in his beautiful blue eyes. ‘Jesus, Elle; you’re making it difficult for me to stay away.’
Without giving me a chance to think, his lips were on mine in a deep, hard kiss. His tongue moved delicately in my mouth. I could hear a low growl at the back of his throat, which appeared to have a direct link to whatever it was that felt good down there.
The kiss deepened and gained pace, locking itself in my memory forever.
He reached for my right hand and placed it on his groin so that I could feel his erection through his jeans. My God, I felt powerful to cause that reaction. I was feeling all kinds of sexy and desirable to a man for the first time in my life. I wanted to find the nearest hotel so that I could lose my virginity and reward him with a view of his beautiful, hard cock in my mouth.
Shit! Had I metamorphosed into someone else? Had I turned into Abi? My eyes returned to his erection to confirm—yes—I was right. I had caused that. I had made him hard, and I was touching it in broad daylight. I was a contradictory virgin slut.
He removed my hand and tenderly stroked my back with his fingers. Just that small gesture set my whole body on edge. Goosebumps appeared across my arms and my breathing lost all semblance of order. I looked up anticipating another kiss, but all I got was a reserved smile before he sat back on the bench and stared forward, searching through the crowds, his whole demeanour quiet and passive.
‘I should go. I’m giving you mixed messages and it isn’t fair on you,’ he said, shaking his head.
I took his hand and pressed it to the heat of my cheek. ‘Don’t give up on me. Not yet. Don’t give up on us and what we could be.’ His eyes moved down to my mouth as he firmly stroked his thumb across my bottom lip, dragging the flesh with it before he kissed me softly on the top of my head. ‘Give me a chance. Let’s see where we go with this.’
‘Give me time. My head is fucked,’ he said firmly without a hint of emotion.
‘I’m giving myself to you. Take it. Don’t leave me standing here,’ I begged.
‘Come here,’ he said, pulling me towards him, cradling me into his chest. ‘You don’t know what you’re asking of me. I’m no good for you.’ He walked me to my car but didn’t attempt to kiss me again. I stood up, suddenly aware of the life rushing through my body, my pulse points throbbing and flickering and causing me to feel faint as I watched him striding purposefully across the car park and then closing his car door with a loud bang that echoed through the thick layers of my limping confidence.
Chapter Nine
The familiar streets carried me home safely as I replayed the night’s events in my head. He said he was damaged, couldn’t do another relationship, and couldn’t imagine living with anyone else. Whoever had broken his heart had done an outstanding job.
He had kissed me with a startling passion after dumping the baggage of his past in my lap. I didn’t know what to do with the information he’d left me with. I was carrying it around like a heavy suitcase, dragging it across the floor when it became too much, tentatively opening it to release more words in the hope that it would feel lighter and easier to carry.
It didn’t. It felt like it was chained to my feet.
At times in my life, self-doubt consumed me. This experience was doing nothing to relieve that. I couldn’t help but question what was wrong with me.
Stop doubting yourself.
When I returned to the silence of my bedroom, I thought about Luke. He was still living in the same world as I was, breathing the same air, and sharing the same space. Would he now be sitting at home contemplating the words he had spoken and wishing he could take them back? Or would he be secretly pleased that he had been able to say them out loud?
My limbs felt like lead as I got ready for bed, washing my face with my favourite scrub, smearing my skin with my favourite moisturiser. It didn’t mean anything tonight. Favourites, routines, normal, they didn’t matter anymore. I slipped out of my jeans and reached for my phone to text Abi.
Me: We need to talk…
Abi: Tell me all the sordid details…
Me: Nothing to tell, I think I’ve been dumped!
Abi: Dick!!
I also sent a text to Luke. Just a simple goodnight to let him know I was still alive and thinking about him. I didn’t get a reply. Four texts later, I still didn’t get a reply. Two days later, still no reply.
Abi was right. He was a dick.
‘Are you listening? Earth to Elle!’ Colin, my manager, stood over my desk. When I looked up, I immediately realised that I had been asleep for the last few minutes and hadn’t heard a word that he had just said.
Colin was a portly man with a heart of gold. It wasn’t only his large frame that filled the office, but his infectious laugh, bright eyes, and genuine care for his team. He’d lived and breathed social work since his messy divorce a few years ago. Nothing was out of bounds with him. He offered himself fully, often offering a shoulder to cry on, a sympathetic ear, and solid advice. He joked that he was given a team of younger women to manage as punishment for not having his own children. He had taken me under his wing and knew that from time to time, I would struggled to cope with the requirements of the job and some of the demands of the families I worked with.
Luke hadn’t replied to my messages or answered my calls. Over a week had passed and I searched to think of good reasons an otherwise decent thirty-one-year-old man would ignore me. Nothing came and, quite frankly, I found it infuriating. I wasn’t a blind date that he could forget or cast aside without a second thought. I was imprinted on his skin, connected by chance. Surely that meant something? Surely that warranted a text message, a call, or an email to confirm I’m still fucked up, so stay away!
I hated being ignored. It guaranteed an adverse reaction from my normally placid nature. I hated that he was causing such an unusual reaction in me. I hated that I was becoming needy and desperate. I should have hated him, but I didn’t. Despite my out of body experience these past few days, I knew I would heel like a well trained dog if he snapped his fingers, and I hated myself for that more than anything.
I was a coiled spring, a force of nature, a gale force wind angrily blowing off roof tiles and uprooting trees. I was irritable and I knew my work was suffering because of it.
‘I need you to go to the central office and pick up some money to take out to the Bramalls. They’ve called saying they have no food in the house, so I’ve agreed a food parcel. Mr Bramall has been eager with his fists again, so his wife has left.’ Colin’s voice snapped me back into reality.
The Bramalls were well known to the department. Various social workers had been involved throughout the years as Mrs Bramall expanded her family. She seemed to spend most of her adult life pregnant. Unfortunately, domestic violence was a regular occurrence and the three kids in the house were regular witnesses to the alcohol-fuelled beatings their mother endured at the hands of their father. I had been present during one such incident, which led to me taking some time out of work to get myself together. It hadn’t been easy trying to talk Mr Bramall down from his rage, but it had been even harder to watch the results.
I headed to the central office feeling slightly nervous. Not just because of the impending visit to the Bramalls, but because Luke was based there and I really didn’t want to be the centre of office gossip when I punched him in the face to release the tension of the last week. OK, so maybe I wasn’t stupid enough to punch him on work time, but in my head, I had punched him many times.
As I turned into the car park, I saw the sun bounce off the roof of his car like a shining beam or a sign saying, He’s here. Vomit before you go in. My stomach dropped. I could
n’t think of anything sarcastic enough to say to him apart from, ‘Thanks for the two dates and thanks for ignoring me for the last week. You’ve really built up my confidence to try dating again—Not.’
The shrill buzz of the door made me jump. I concentrated greatly on putting one foot in font of the other and made my way towards Audrey, otherwise known as the petty cash police. I passed her the signed document from Colin so she could release the money to buy some food items. It was only going to last them a few days, but it was better than letting the kids go without a meal for the weekend.
Audrey pursed her lips and scowled. ‘Elle, what the hell is this?’ She snatched the paper out of my hands and sighed heavily. The type of sigh that let you know without any shadow of doubt that the person in front of you was pissed off. ‘I wish your boss would grow some balls and learn to say no. Handing them a food parcel every week is not solving this family’s problems.’ I nodded my head to be polite, but my eyes were scanning the office. His chair was empty, but his coat was slung over the back. He was in the building, but not knowing exactly where he was made me edgy. I needed a Luke Simms tracking device just to calm the nerves. ‘There. Tell him Audrey says to do some actual social work rather than just giving handouts,’ she said as she slapped the cash into my hand and returned her eyes to her computer screen.
‘Of course I will,’ I winked and turned to walk down the corridor towards the door that would give me freedom, but I stopped in my tracks when I heard his voice. I let the panic bubble up and over like someone with a heavy hand pouring bubble bath into running water. His deep laugh and the sound of spoons clanking in jars told me he was in the staff room.
Avoid the staff room. Avoid the staff room.
‘Elle?’
I turned to face his blue eyes and slightly upturned mouth. I was not in the slightest bit prepared for this moment. Feelings of anger, frustration, compassion, and hunger for him hit me like a tranquiliser to the arse.
‘Hi, Luke, how are you?’ A squeaky voice escaped my throat, the sound a cross between Mickey Mouse and a pile driver, which only contributed in betraying the calm approach I had tried to achieve.
He smiled, his mouth twitching slightly, and I knew he was trying to restrain a smug grin. ‘Good, thanks. Overworked, underpaid and understaffed, but what’s new?’
‘Tell me about it,’ I replied. So, it seemed we were now reduced to small talk. Marvellous.
I needed to run a hundred miles away from him just to get safely away from the penetrating stare of those deep blue eyes that threatened to pull me into him, forgetting and forgiving the silence of the past week or so.
‘I’ll be off then,’ I said, turning quickly and almost losing my bearings, narrowly avoiding going face first into the exposed brick wall at the very last second.
What was it about Luke Simms that turned me into a clumsy, wet dishrag? He made me so angry. No, I made myself angry, so angry that I let him make me that angry. The man was infuriating.
‘See you then…fucknugget,’ I whispered, louder than I actually intended and shocked that I’d chosen a word I’d never uttered before.
As I walked towards the car, I heard his deep voice shouting after me.
‘Elle, stop.’
‘What can I do for you?’
‘Did you just tell me to fuck off?’
I felt faint. I had to press my hands flat on the roof of my car to steady myself.
‘No, I didn’t. I called you a fucknugget. Shall I text you to explain what a fucknugget is? Oh, that’s right! That would be a complete waste of time because you don’t read texts, do you? Or you do read them, just don’t reply?’
Don’t ask. I have absolutely no bleeding idea what a fucknugget is…
‘I don’t know what that means, but I guess I deserve the title. Fucknugget? That’s epic.’
Then I heard it. Laughter. And all the anger rose to the surface. ‘Yes, you do,’ I replied after considering my response for all of a second.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry? Is that all you’ve got?’ I laughed bitterly and shook my head to rid myself of the lingering thoughts of everything I had put on the line for him. I didn’t date. I had never offered the whole casual relationship let’s see where we go crap before. I had jumped so far out of my comfort zone that I found I was arse over tit on the crash mat rubbing my bum and wondering how the hell I’d got there.
‘Why did you ignore me? Why didn’t you just put me out of my misery? That’s the worst thing you could do. It drives me crazy.’ I felt my hands shake as I pressed my palm to my chest in an attempt to steady my racing heartbeat. All the tension of the last week came out to bite. ‘The wanker that dumps a girl by text is better than that. I would have taken anything over being ignored.’
‘I’m sorry. My feelings are all over the place. I was honest with you that night. I don’t want to offer something that I can’t give. But the real truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you.’
I couldn’t help but laugh at what he’d just said.
‘Not enough to reply to my texts or calls, though?’
‘Touché,’ he replied sheepishly.
Every second I was standing vulnerable and exposed in front of him led me to grow more and more frustrated. I didn’t want to humiliate myself further, but I felt like I was down on my hands and knees worshipping at the altar of sexy Luke. Damn his cocky smile.
‘I’ve got to go,’ I muttered finally as I searched my bag for my car keys.
‘You don’t have to go.’ He sighed in frustration and put his hands in his pockets. ‘It was good to see you, even though you did call me a cock.’ His eyes were twinkling and mischievous, but rage radiated through my body and overtook what I should have found sexy. I swung round to blast into him, but his hands were held up in surrender. ‘I deserved it. I can’t blame you. I’m either the ignorant fucknugget or the texting wanker. I’m not sure which I prefer.’ His sarcasm shone through his eyes and face, and I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Why are you so adorable?’ he muttered as he kissed me chastely on my forehead. And there it was. My somewhat imaginary feminist values evaporated in front of me, replaced with what could only be described as the values of a lapdog.
We were back in the game.
The house was quiet. I knew the kids would be at school, but I wasn’t sure if Mrs Bramall would be home. She often disappeared for a week or so after an incident. A woman who must have been loved and nurtured when she was brought into the world was now barely surviving in that world, living in a toxic mix of love and hate so powerful it never failed to draw her back in.
The door opened with such force I felt my hair blow back. ‘Miss Davis, how lovely to see you. Have the police sent you, or did you just want to see my handsome face?’ he scowled, looking past me, scanning the street tetchily.
Mr Bramall was the type of man you would be wary about when walking down the road. He was a frightening combination of charmer and criminal, a modern day Bill Sykes. I could see why Mrs Bramall fell for him, but my inexperience meant I failed to understand why she stayed. He had been violent for a number of years. It was usual to arrive at work on a Monday morning to find various police reports about domestic violence incidents they had attended over the weekend.
I smiled, trying to get the professional pleasantry just so. ‘You called for a food parcel this morning, so I’m here to drop it off.’
He took the bag, opened it up, and searched through hastily. ‘What the fuck? It’s all value shit. We like brands. The kids won’t eat this crap,’ he said, not looking up from his search.
The smile stayed in place, a little more strained than when he’d opened the door. I was furious, but I certainly wasn’t going to hang around long enough to show him that. I didn’t have a death wish. There were things I still wanted to achieve in life such as becoming a homeowner, dying my hair candyfloss pink, and that small issue of losing my virginity. I took a deep breath. ‘I assumed you called for a food parcel because t
he kids are hungry. If they are hungry, they will eat the food I’ve bought for them.’
‘Did you go out and buy the food because you didn’t want to give me the money? I’m not some fucking junky. I look after my kids. They come first.’ He clenched his fists as he folded his big arms across his chest. It was all for show. He was showcasing his muscles in front of me, warning me not to overstep the mark.
‘Where is Mrs Bramall?’ I asked as I looked past him into the house. I noticed a motorbike engine on the floor in the hallway and three brightly decorated samurai swords mounted on the wall, which certainly didn’t create a warm welcome to the house.
‘She’s gone. Don’t ask me where. I don’t have a fucking clue.’ I smelled alcohol on his breath. Add that to that the slurring of words and swaying of feet, and I quickly realised he was on the road to obliteration.
‘Have you been drinking today?’ He glared at me. OK. So, that had obviously touched a nerve.
‘I’ve had a can of lager. Is that acceptable to you?’ Do you have kids? Do you know how hard it is to care for them, feed them, and provide for them? No. I bet you don’t. You’re just some bitch of a do-gooder. Go on. Fuck off. You think you’re helping me with your shit food? Fuck off!’
I walked backwards towards the safety of my car, locking the doors as I got in because Mr Bramall was still at the front gate watching my every move and I couldn’t guarantee he had finished spewing his anger. I thought about the kids. They were all at school, safe. But later? Who knew what they would be walking into? I made a note in my diary to contact the duty team to alert them of a probable call from the police over the weekend.
After surviving the visit without finishing it on the receiving end of Mr Bramall’s fists, I headed back to the office. My phone temporarily interrupted my thoughts as it alerted me to a new message. I was more than a little surprised to see Luke’s name.
Luke: I’m sorry
Two words from the man himself. Progress.
Let Me Be Your First (Music and Letters #1) Page 7
