In Your Silence

by Grace Lowrie

  And he’d just said he loved me...

  But that was only the sex talking, wasn’t it? The heat of the moment? I was pretty sure I loved him, but could he really feel the same way? About me of all people? It seemed unlikely.

  ‘I’ve made coffee; are you ready to come downstairs, or... I mean, I could bring it up...?’

  I shook my head and moved towards the door and he carefully, politely stepped aside to let me pass; as if we hadn’t just fornicated like animals on his living room floor.

  He followed me back downstairs and when I perched on the sofa he brought me a plain, white mug full of steaming decaffeinated coffee. It was black and no doubt full of sugar, exactly the way I liked it.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ he asked, taking the nearby armchair.

  I nodded, averting my eyes from the wine glass I was trying to ignore, and burned my tongue as I took a large gulp of coffee. It felt weird between us all of a sudden and I knew that was my fault. Back at the pub Liam had kissed me right in front of his friends and even introduced me to them, albeit briefly. He wasn’t ashamed of me, and that concept alone was amazing, but love... what did I even know about love?

  Without looking I could sense Liam scrutinising me. Retrieving my phone from his jacket pocket he passed it to me. ‘Talk to me, please.’

  Setting aside my coffee I looked down at the phone in my hand and then back at him, unsure what to say.

  ‘I meant what I said before – about loving you – and I don’t expect you to feel the same way, but I do need to know if I’ve freaked you out, or scared you off or anything... you look so confused,’ he added softly, lifting his warm fingers to the side of my face and smoothing back my hair.

  I tapped out a question and showed it to him: Isn’t it just sex?

  His face paled as he read my words, the light dying in his eyes as he looked back at me. It occurred to me that I might have wounded his pride with my careless use of the word ‘just’ so I tagged on a few extra words for emphasis: Really great sex.

  He smiled at that, but not properly; the light didn’t return to his face.

  ‘Not to me,’ he spoke so quietly that I almost missed it. He cleared his throat. ‘It’s more than really great sex to me, Mel – I care about you; I like being with you; I—’

  Standing up, more abruptly than I intended, I cut him off and almost tripped over the coffee table as I jerkily picked up the offending wine glass to show him. His expression quickly morphed from surprise to comprehension to worry as he registered the evidence trembling in my hand.

  ‘Oh God, Mel, that’s nothing.’ Standing, he took it from me and set it aside. ‘Bridget dropped by unexpectedly yesterday for a drink, and I told her I couldn’t see her anymore – that I was seeing you. She’s the woman I went on a couple of dates with ages ago, but nothing ever happened between us, I swear. It was nothing like you and I...’ The anxiety in his voice was obvious, but his eyes were earnest and sincere. ‘You do believe me, don’t you? I wasn’t keeping it from you deliberately; to be honest I’d forgotten all about her visit...’

  And the redhead?

  He stared at the screen, and then at me, and then back again, mouth opening and closing, utterly confused.

  Impatiently rolling my eyes I elaborated: From the pub.

  The perplexed expression on his face would be comical if I wasn’t so concerned about what his reply was going to be. ‘Do you mean Poppy? Adam’s sister...?’

  I nodded, watching him closely for tell-tale signs. Signs of what, I wasn’t quite sure.

  ‘Why...?’ The greatest actor on Earth couldn’t have bettered the pure incredulity on Liam’s face at that moment. It was immensely reassuring and I realised that I was being unfair to him. ‘Poppy’s an events planner; very friendly and bubbly; but she’s like a little sister to me; to all of us. I don’t... there’s nothing...’

  OK.

  He still looked concerned. ‘And I know you found some of Cally’s stuff upstairs but things have been over between us for months. She’s moved on, I’ve moved on...’ He held my gaze so openly that it was hard to doubt him. ‘There’s only you, Mel...’

  Regardless of what I’d read about most men only caring about one thing, and despite my own fears and reservations, I believed this man; I trusted him.

  Liam Hunt loved me.

  At this realisation an excited kind of joy surged up in my chest making my fingers shake as I typed: I lobve you too.

  He laughed, as much with surprise and relief as at my typo. ‘You do?’

  Nodding I stretched up and kissed him, and he gazed at me, still disbelieving.

  ‘Really...?’

  I nodded again.

  ‘You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?’

  Can I be your girlfriend?

  He laughed again; a deeper chuckle rumbling outwards through his chest as he took my head in his rough palms.

  ‘Yes – absolutely – nothing would make me happier.’ He pressed his mouth to mine and I wrapped my arms around his big warm body, drawing him closer to me.

  ‘I want to make love to you,’ he muttered against my lips.

  Hesitating, I shook my head and let go of him.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he said, searching my face as I returned my attention to my phone.

  Not here.

  ‘No, OK, let’s go upstairs, it will be far more comfortable...’

  He took my hand, but again I shook my head. As much as I wanted to be with him, and as glad as I was that Bridget and Poppy were not an issue, that bed upstairs was still his and Cally’s. I accepted that whatever they’d had was over, but her name still echoed in my ears, her perfect image lingered in my mind, and her spirit still lurked up there in the wardrobe. If I was going to completely exorcise that particular ghost I needed to know the full story of their relationship. But not right now; not tonight; I didn’t think I could take it. All of this love and potential happiness between Liam and me was so strange and new and fragile, and I didn’t want to spoil it.

  It’s late and I’m tired, I’m going to go home.

  ‘Oh. OK... I’ll drive you home in the van – we can put your bike in the back.’ He looked disappointed, and I gave him my most reassuring smile. ‘I haven’t said or done anything to upset you have I?’

  I shook my head and kissed him again for good measure.

  ‘I guess we’d better get dressed then.’

  Chapter Forty-one

  I was kicked awake by a small foot jabbing at the back of my knees, and when I failed to respond quickly enough, the foot was joined by a tiny fist prodding between my shoulder blades. Rolling over I squinted at Mel and smiled.

  ‘Morning, beautiful.’

  She pressed a warning finger to her lips and scowled. So far, waking up beside the girl of my dreams was not as idyllic as I’d imagined. Shoving her Swatch watch under my nose she tapped at it impatiently. It was gone 9 a.m. but I was exhausted. Mel hadn’t wanted to stay over at my place last night, so I’d driven her home in the early hours of the morning and accidentally fallen asleep in her over-the-top four poster bed.

  ‘Shit, is that really the time?’

  This time she pressed a finger to my lips to silence me and held up a piece of paper between us. The message scrawled in black eye-liner read:

  Mrs Daly’s here, you must get out before she realises you’re in the house.

  ‘Mrs Daly?’

  She rolled her eyes impatiently and scribbled: Housekeeper.

  ‘Oh right, OK.’ Propping myself up on one elbow I blinked at her. ‘Can I steal a kiss first?’

  Her whole face softened and she smiled and nodded as I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers. She had smudged panda eyes, hair stuck to her cheek and stale breath, but she was soft, warm and beguiling and I loved her and she loved me. As she pressed her near-naked body against mine, my morning wood begged for attention.

  Pulling her head back she silently giggled, brushing her fingers over the stubble round m
y lips by way of explanation.

  ‘Does it tickle?’

  She nodded and I gently rubbed my cheek along her jaw and down her neck, luxuriating in her intoxicating scent as she writhed against me. As I found her breast through her thin nightshirt with my stubbled lips, she gasped and shuddered, goosebumps spreading out across her skin.

  ‘Mmm,’ I whispered around her nipple, ‘I think I’ve just got time to make love to my girlfriend before I go...’

  Grabbing my hair she yanked my head back, hard, so that I was looking at her face. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure and her pupils dilated, but she had a steely look in her eye as she shook her head.

  God she was sexy. Sighing I let her push me over to the edge of the bed where I sat up and pulled on my jeans, shirt, socks and jumper from the day before. If I couldn’t have Mel this morning I’d settle for a shower, a shave, a clean set of clothes and breakfast, but it seemed all that was out of the question. Wrapped in her dressing gown, Mel jotted down clear instructions for leaving the house unseen and escaping into the grounds.

  ‘I could do with going home first – half my tools are there and...’

  Mel shook her head, adamantly, her eyes glaring. She’s seen your van – it will look suspicious if you go and come back again – you’ll have to pretend you arrived early this morning, she wrote.

  ‘Well I kind of did...’ I said, shrugging into my jacket and picking up my shoes.

  She smiled, despite her worries, and I kissed her again before turning to leave.

  I must have looked ridiculous; a man of my size tiptoeing about in socked feet, but I successfully made it to the far end of the house, out the front door and into the stables without drawing attention to myself. It was a cold morning and while the kettle was boiling I pulled my waders on over my jeans, to keep myself warm as much as to protect them. Thankfully I’d left a sweatshirt behind in the summer, so I swapped it for the collared shirt and jumper I was wearing, in order to look less conspicuous.

  Why was Mel so nervous about the cleaner discovering our relationship anyway? It was none of her business, and the fact that she’d informed me when Mel was ill implied that she already knew at least something about us. That arse Sinclair would have to find out about us eventually. Maybe I should be trying harder to get him on side...

  I was busy sanding the weathered timber walls of the boathouse when Mel came to find me later that afternoon. She crept up behind me and tried to push me into the lake, but wasn’t physically strong enough and lost her balance, almost falling in herself. As we laughed she reached up to tenderly brush dry flakes of paint and dust from my hair and clothes, before realising that we might be seen from the house. With one hand she dragged me inside the boathouse out of view, where I pulled her against me and kissed her. She was wearing a thick, oversized, cream-coloured knitted jumper as a dress. It was cinched in at her waist by a shiny blue belt, with the cuffs rolled up to reveal her hands. Below the knitwear she wore an opaque pair of lacy white tights and a set of traditional Dutch wooden clogs on her feet. She looked like some sort of pixie, but no less sexy for all that.

  ‘Hey beautiful, what’s in the bag?’

  Slipping a faded chintz carpet bag off her shoulder, she delved inside with one hand and presented me with a shrink-wrapped stack of sandwiches and a grin.

  ‘Oh, you star, I’m starving, thank you.’

  A small rowing boat took up most of the interior space in the shed, raised and mounted a foot off the ground in a sturdy metal frame. Stripping off my waders I climbed inside, and once I’d seated myself in the stern, Mel settled herself opposite, our knees gently touching. While I tucked into the sandwiches she talked to me via the screen on her mobile. She had questions about the rugby session she’d witnessed the day before, but really I think she was curious about my friends from the pub.

  ‘James, Adam and I all went to school together – Lester and Maire too, but they were a couple of years above. James owns Southwood’s Garden Centre, y’know; the one on the edge of town...?’

  Mel shook her head.

  ‘Well it’s full of pretty plants; I think you’d like it there; I’ll take you sometime.’ Mel pulled a face. ‘I think you’d like James’s girlfriend, Kat, too.’

  Why do you say that?

  ‘Because she’s kind and plain-speaking and she’s not as loud and gregarious as Poppy.’

  Doesn’t mean she’d like me.

  ‘Of course she would! What’s not to like? All my friends will love you if you give them a chance.’

  Melody looked distinctly unconvinced and uncomfortable, but before she could change the subject I plucked my phone out of my back pocket and clicked through to my messages.

  ‘Look – ever since I introduced you in the pub yesterday I’ve been bombarded with excited texts from my friends – they all want to meet you properly...’

  I kept eating and watched Mel intently as she clicked and scrolled through my inbox. Most of the messages were from Adam, Lester and James; vaguely rude, back-handed compliments like: “You sly dog!” and “Get back here you pussy, and let us meet her!” and “Are you ashamed of us or what?” and “No wonder you’ve been keeping Melody to yourself – she’s way out of your league mate!”. Poppy had texted: “I can’t believe you’ve been seeing someone in secret! She’s gorgeous! When can I meet her??” and Maire had said: “I’m so happy for you – the two of you look great together, you must come for dinner soon.”

  Once Mel had read them all, some of them twice, she passed my phone back to me and picked up her own.

  Aren’t they all friends with Cally?

  ‘Yes... but we had a fairly amicable break up, so it’s not like they have to choose sides or anything, and anyway Cally has been living in London – I don’t think anyone’s seen much of her for months.’ While Mel tapped out something else, I balled up the cling-film, tossed it back in her bag and took a swig of orange juice from the carton she’d brought.

  Were you together long?

  ‘A few years. But when I look back on it now, it was more like a friendship than a romantic relationship – it was nothing like this – you and me. The way I feel about you is... huge; all-consuming; life-changing...’

  Leaning forwards Mel kissed me, and I cradled her face in my hands and tried to kiss her back with all the truth of my feelings for her; I wanted her to understand that she was it for me; my one and only, and that no-one else could ever compare. By the time she withdrew she was flushed but smiling.

  On the surface she seemed to be coping amazingly well with all my baggage, especially when you considered that relationships as a whole were so new to her. But I was afraid of pushing her too hard too soon, so I changed the subject.

  ‘The weather forecast is set to be fair for the next week or so; cold but dry,’ I said. ‘I wanted to make the most of it so I’ve arranged for Olly to come and help me glaze the glasshouse on Monday – I just wanted to warn you...’

  She shrugged and smiled.

  ‘You sure you don’t mind? I know you don’t like him being around...’

  Maybe he’s not so bad – I don’t know him.

  ‘He’s a walking, talking headache, is what he is, but I’ll try not to let him get on your nerves too much.’

  I’d been stroking her leg, almost unconsciously, but the unexpected discovery that her tights were in fact stockings was arousing. With my fingers I explored the smooth bare skin of her thighs and traced the lacy edge of her knickers with my thumb. Between her legs I could tell she was already aroused and she shivered with anticipation as she reached for my fly.

  ‘We can’t. Unless you have any more condoms on you...?’ I said, hopefully.

  She looked disappointed and shook her head.

  ‘I meant to bring some, I’m sorry.’

  I was uncomfortable inside my jeans and it was a relief when she continued to free me; her hand wrapped snugly around my shaft. But then she released me to tap out a message on her phone, leaving me ex
posed.

  I want to watch you. She stared at me expectantly as I read the words.

  ‘Watch me? You mean...?’

  She nodded.

  ‘You want to watch me... masturbate...?’ Her request was surprising but as she made me say the words I throbbed in my hand.

  As her burning gaze dropped to my lap I began to work my length slowly in my palm. I’d only ever jerked off in private before, and it seemed shameful to be doing it here, in this boathouse, in front of a lady. But the way Mel brazenly lusted after me and bossed me about with barely a word turned me on beyond all belief.

  Her eyes never leaving my lap, she spread her legs wider and began to touch herself, making me groan. For someone so new to sex, Mel was an accomplished seductress. Sitting there in that boat, working myself in my fist, I watched, mesmerised, as she swiftly brought herself to a shuddering climax.

  ‘Jesus, Mel, I want... I need...’ I was incapable of finishing my sentence.

  Still recovering, and breathing hard, she abruptly stood up over me, and yanked my head back by my hair. As she forced me to look at her, darts of pain shot straight from my scalp directly to my groin and I erupted in my hand with a groan, shooting semen all over her stockings. How did she know? This glorious, extraordinary woman – how did she know exactly what I wanted; what I needed, when I hadn’t even known myself?

  Loosening her grip, she perched herself delicately on my knee and pressed a tender kiss to my lips; as if, in her own quiet way, she hadn’t just conquered me entirely.

  It was several minutes before I recovered the power of speech. ‘Sorry about your stockings,’ I said at last.

  Shrugging, she produced a wodge of paper serviettes from her bag and cleaned up her legs and my hand. Smiling impishly, she kissed me again and stood up.

  ‘You’re not going...?’

  Shouldering her carpet bag she picked up her phone and I waited while she tapped out a reply.

  I love you, but you have work to do – this boathouse won’t sand itself.

  Laughing I shoved my fingers into my hair, wincing slightly at the lingering burn in my scalp.