by Annie Dyer
“That was two years ago, K,” I said. “You waited two more years?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know there was a cut-off point.”
A nurse came by with four boxes of tablets and instructions on how to take them, then we were free to go. I ached to feel clean again, and sleep in a soft bed with silky sheets. “Any chance of a bath at your place?” I said as we headed to where a taxi was waiting.
“Yes. Have you seen the en-suite to my room?”
I shook my head. The painkillers had started to work and the pain was at least bearable. “Does it have a big bath?”
“A fucking huge one.” He gave the driver his address. “What do you want picking up from your place? Or anything from the shops? Marie sent me a message asking.”
“She’s not going to mine on her own, is she?” I said, images of there being an ambush running through my head like a scary movie.
“Denico’s with her. He’ll check yours over while he’s there and drop her off here. She’s going to stay tonight and depending on how you are, we’ll head over to Tintagel tomorrow.”
“That sounds good,” I said, letting myself lean against him in the cab. “I could do with some of my clothes to take away with us. Shorts, t-shirts. There are some long summer dresses…”
“I’ll phone her,” he said, pulling out his iPhone. “There’s no way I’ll remember all this. And you’re about to list a load of girly stuff too.”
I nodded. He pressed a couple of buttons and passed the phone to me. Marie answered almost immediately.
“Hi mum,” I said.
“It’s you. It’s good to hear your voice. Jackson said you looked terrible last night.”
“He’s a charmer, isn’t he? Killian said you were going to mine to pick some stuff up for me.”
“What do you want me to bring?”
I listed off what I wanted for the next week or so, thankful I had her to look after me. She’d been doing that for twenty-eight years and had never let me down, even when it came to choosing which clothes to bring over.
“How about underwear?”
“Grab what you can,” I said. “I can sort out what to take with me when it’s here.”
“Just don’t do too much,” she said. “I’ll be with you in a couple of hours, maybe three as I promised I’d meet Ava for lunch.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I really need to nap.”
“As long as it is sleep and not your concussion getting worse.” Killian interjected. I glared at him.
“If you don’t feel right, you must say,” he added.
“I will do.” We hung up and I passed the phone back to Killian.
“I see you’ve managed to inform all of my family of exactly how I am?”
He smiled cockily. “That’s the beauty of group chats. In my defence, I was getting bombarded with messages from them all. Rather than having to reply to each one it was the easiest thing to do.”
I yawned. “Fine. I’ll let you off. Do you have any bath foam?”
The cab stopped outside his house and he pulled out his wallet. I made a mental note to at least try to pay him back for what he’d been spending, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t accept and if he did it’d end up back with me in the form of a book or bottle of wine or some other gift.
“I’ve got something like that which my mother left.” He opened the door and let me though, the house empty as Nick and Katie had left early to get to Oxford to pick up the twins.
“That your mother left?”
He nodded. “My mum has stayed. I haven’t had any women use the bath here.”
Although clearly there had been women here. I pushed the sick feeling away, attributing it to tiredness and my dull headache as opposed to jealousy. I had no right to feel jealous.
“Do you want a drink first or just to get in the bath? I can bring you a tea or water up?”
“Show me the bath.”
By evening I had started to feel half human. The police had been round shortly after Marie left to take statements. They’d asked about Dean Lacey and the divorce, the break in at the cottage and although they took on board our concerns, there was no evidence to suggest a connection.
I snuggled down into Killian’s sofa, watching a box set on Netflix and eating pizza. Killian sat next to me, my human cushion, typing something into his laptop and frowning occasionally. He’d worked for most of the day, letting me sleep, giving me and Marie space to talk and for her to fuss. She’d brought what I needed, even remembering to pack a swim suit for the sea, although I wasn’t sure I’d actually need it. She’d also been shopping, adding luxury bath products, body washes and lotions and some new make up for a treat. I’d burst into tears again when she gave me the bag, which had made her laugh. I wasn’t an emotional person. Growing up with four brothers had made me more like a boy when it came to being demonstrative, but the events and the tiredness of the past forty-eight hours had reduced me to an emotional car crash. I needed my people.
And more of Killian’s bath.
It was huge, big enough for two and set in a bathroom that was modern and masculine. Or it had been. It was now filled with girly bath products and the scent of a Lush bath bomb, plus an orchid on the windowsill that Marie had brought. There was a TV on the wall and a huge walk in shower that had various settings.
“How are you feeling?” Killian said, looking at me as he closed his laptop. “I’m not sure how the sigh you just made should be taken.”
“I’m feeling much better. Only like a bus ran over me instead of a truck. Another bath might help.” I gave him a wide smile.
He shook his head, muttering something. “Does that mean you want me to go run it for you? And add one of those bomb thingies? My bedroom smells like a girl’s had a princess party in there now.”
It was like a kick to the gut. Inexplicably, my eyes teared up and I felt my throat tighten. “I’ll go run it. You’ve done enough.” I stood up as fast as I knew I could without falling over and shot out of the door and up the stairs.
I knew Killian well enough to know he wouldn’t follow me, not straight away. He’d be confused as to what had caused my reaction and I’d need to produce some sort of explanation, although right now I figured he might be starting to work out the truth.
After I’d had the abortion, I’d spent weeks in silent mourning. I’d imagined a little girl with my hair and Killian’s eyes and wondered what we would’ve called her. I’d pictured him running round after her when she started to talk and how he would’ve been completely besotted by her. On what would’ve been her – or his - first birthday, I’d spent the day away from my studies at a spa, indulging in massages and facials and anything to try and forget the choice my heart had wanted to make. I imagined princess parties and trips to Disneyland, pretty dresses and afternoons on the beach, searching in rock pools and paddling in the sea. Every year since I had done something to commemorate what would’ve been her birthday. The only day I allowed myself to mourn.
It had been the right decision. But it had never been an easy one. If I would have followed my heart and continued with the pregnancy, university would’ve been harder. Killian would probably not have joined the Marines and had the career he did. Our young relationship would’ve had pressure placed on it that may have caused it to crumble and my dreams for my child were more idyllic than that.
My own father and mother hadn’t been happy, although they had managed to have the four of us. My mother had post-natal depression and refused treatment; my father was working for most of the time as he was ambitious and wanted to provide for his young family. He also did not have a clue how to parent. I vaguely remembered rows and arguments. I remembered my mother crying and then finally, the day when she wasn’t there and her door never opened that morning for her to come out.
We - Max and Jackson and me - looked after Callum. I was four, Jackson five and Max six. For the next couple of years, we had a series of nannies that we terrorised; our father
like a mouse about to be pounced on by a large cat whenever he saw us.
Then he met Marie and our world found order. She was meant to be a mother. As the second eldest of nine, she was used to a lot of children and she liked us. She played with us and loved us and liked us and showed my father what to do, finding him amusing when he stood there staring at the worm Callum held in his hand and showed him as a gift as if he had landed on some other planet when people didn’t speak his language. By the time Marie had the twins and then shortly after, Ava, we were a family. A huge, happy family. There were still undertones. Max and my father had issues that had never been resolved and the rift between Callum and dad had never been bridged, although Callum was always Marie’s favourite, but we were still a slightly unhinged and definitely quirky bunch.
I stepped into the bath, this time having filled it with a lavender bath oil that would make it a nightmare to clean but would help me sleep. The water was deep and hot and soothing and I felt my sadness slip away a little. I accepted the decision I’d made and I didn’t feel regret because it was the right choice, but I would always allow myself the right to mourn.
There was a tap at the door, followed by a slight breeze of cooler air. “Claire,” Killian said, stepping into the room. “Are you okay now?”
The bubbles and water covered me, not that I was bothered. “I am now.”
“You want to tell me why me mentioning princess parties had you in tears?” He started to strip, losing his t-shirt to expose the hardened muscles underneath, his large biceps covered with tattoos and low hung sweats that displayed the happy trail leading to one of my favourite things.
It wasn’t just my head that was throbbing.
He stepped out of his sweats, lacking underwear as usual. His cock was half hard and I couldn’t bring myself to look away, aware that he was amused at my stare. “Shift up in the bath, Claire,” he said. “If you can take your eyes off my dick, that is.”
“I’m wondering if it works as good as it looks,” I said, sitting up and exposing my breasts.
He laughed and stepped into the water, wincing at the heat. “This is like being boiled alive!” he said, having to pause before he could get fully in. I splashed at his legs, his cock now fully hard.
“I thought you were a big hard military man,” I said, managing to look him in the eye.
“You can see I’m big and hard,” he said with a wry smile.
“Jesus, Killian. Get in the freaking water.”
He laughed and sat down facing me, a wave of water almost spilling over the rim of the bath. “How do you stand it this hot?”
I shook my head, his legs resting next to mine. “I’ve always liked hot baths.”
“I remember. At college when there was only a shower you used to complain. I remember a couple of weekends when you went home just so you could get a bath.”
“Only at the start of the term.” Because after that, weekends had been the time we used to steal to be together.
“Come here,” he said, “turn around and sit here.” He gestured between his legs. “If you don’t want to tell me why princess parties upset you, that fine, but let me feel that you’re okay.”
I moved slowly round to him, settling my back against his chest and leaning my head against his shoulder. Strong arms encapsulated me, the pulse of his erection against my ass and back. There was no demand and part of me missed that; I wanted to know if he needed me if he was as addicted to me as he had been or if age and time had caused it to wane.
“I’m okay, Killian,” I said, not sure that I was. “What plans do you have?” It was more of a whisper, half drowned out by the swirl of the water.
“Tonight? Or tomorrow? When for?” he said, his hands sliding onto my stomach and up to my breasts, thumbs brushing my nipples.
“The future. Where do you see yourself in five years?” I said, bracing myself for a myriad of answers.
He pinched my nipples simultaneously and I stifled a moan. “Happy,” he said. “For the company to be successful still, maybe more so than now.”
“What about a family?” I pushed the words out.
He kissed my neck. “Claire, I’m scared of saying the wrong things. It’s only few days since we declared a ceasefire on irritating each other. I don’t want to make you run away from me again.”
“You won’t. Not by answering that question.”
He was quiet for a moment, his hands still playing with my breasts. It felt luxuriously slow and decadent, just the feel of his fingers with no rush to get of me anywhere but taking pleasure in the feeling. “Then you answer it. What do you want in the next five years?”
“A house in London rather than my apartment. Someone to share it with. A family.” It was easy to tell him and I felt a lightness with sharing it, giving him an insight in to my heart.
“Not to be one of London’s most powerful lawyers?” There was both humour and a serious tone to his voice.
“My department has a brilliant reputation and don’t get me wrong, I love my job and I’ve worked hard for it. I’m where I want to be, but I don’t just want to be making more to invest it or save it. I remember when Marie first came to us and how much she enjoyed being part of this huge, mad family. She genuinely liked playing with us in the fields or taking us down to the river and helping us make rope swings. We weren’t a hassle or another job for her and I saw how happy we made her. I want that happiness.” I knew my eyes were leaking again.
“I understand that,” he said, his fingers rolling my nipples, sending pulses to my pussy. “Are you looking at me as someone who can give you that, or are you looking at me for who I am?”
He had always known exactly how to phrase thoughts without causing distress but never hiding the truth. “Both. You make me want that future. No one else ever has. No man I’ve been with since has ever made me feel what you did and what you do now.” He cupped my breasts in his hands. “Does that scare you?”
I felt his lips rest against the sensitive spot on my neck. “No.” He sounded firm and decisive. “None of that scares me. I’d like the same. I bought this house with the idea it was big enough for a couple of kids if anyone ever decided I’d be a good enough dad.”
“You’ll be an amazing dad,” I said. “But we’re only days back into this so maybe we need to save this discussion for a few months’ time, or next year.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Let’s just see.”
He left one hand playing with my nipple and dropped the other down to between my legs. “Clearly a concussion hasn’t stopped you getting turned on.” Abruptly he moved both hands away, twisting the plug to empty the bath.
“Killian!” I said. “I wasn’t done!”
“I’m definitely not done,” he responded, his voice mellow. He moved me forwards enough so he could stand up and get out of the bath. “Sleep in my bed tonight.”
“Is that so you can keep an eye on me during the night?”
“Amongst other things. How is your head?” he pulled a towel around his waist, covering his still hard cock.
“The painkillers are working. The bath worked too. So, did your hands.” I stood, enjoying watching him greedily drink in my body, my nipples hard. He took another towel off the rail and began to dry me, giving me a hand as I got out of the bath over the steep side.
I let him slowly dry every inch of my skin as if I was incapable. His touch was tender and slow, almost reverential. Then, when he was satisfied my skin was dry from the bath, he puzzled over the row of creams and balms. “This one?” he said, holding a tub of almond, honey and milk body cream. “It smells good.”
“That one’s fine.” I went to take it from him but he held it back.
“Let me. It gives me an excuse to to touch you all over.”
I laughed because it did and he took full advantage. Over my back, my shoulders, down my arms and up my legs. He massaged it into my ass and across my stomach and finally my breasts.
“You’re bigger than before.�
�
“I’m older,” I said. “I’m bigger all over.”
“Not by much. You have more curves. I like them. Especially these.” He cupped my breasts. “Claire.” He stood behind me, his hard cock pressed against my lower back. “I need to be in you. This still feels too fast but I can’t think of a reason why it can’t be that way.”
“So, do it.” I knew I was dripping for him, aching to be filled and have him thrusting in and out of my pussy, stretching me and emptying himself inside me.
He picked me up and strode to the door into his bedroom, gently putting me down on the bed. “Your head,” he said.
“Is fine. Just let’s keep it gentle this once.”
“Do I need a condom?”
“No,” I said. “I’m on the pill. Still.”
“Good. Shit, Claire, I don’t know how long I’ll last. I need to make you come first”
“In me. I’ll come when you’re in me.”
He moved over me, taking my mouth with his and plundering it sweetly with his tongue. I moved his hips lower and took his cock in my hand, running my fingers up and down it, the feel of silk over steel making my legs widen.
The kiss broke. He looked at me and took his cock away from my hand, guiding it to my my hot centre. I waited for the first frisson of pain, the point when he breached through my tightness and moaned when it happened.
He paused. “I can’t tell you how good you feel. I need to take this slow now, but when you’re better there is so much I want to do to you.”
He pressed in further, balancing on one hand and using the other to flick my clit. Then he was fully in, splitting my body gloriously in two. He moved out slowly, almost all the way and then resumed, his rhythm slow and deep, his fingers magical and it took only a few more thrusts before I broke apart around his cock, my back arching as if I was possessed.
He didn’t drop the tempo. His hand left my clit and went to a nipple, pinching and rubbing at that. I wrapped my legs around his waist, angling my hips so he hit the spot inside me. I knew I could come again, and right now, the chemicals from another orgasm were what I needed.
