by Shae Banks
Folding her arms over her chest, she glowered at me. “Well, that’s a load of shit, you’ve known him all your life.”
“It’s like talking to the wall,” I said, turning back to the class instructor as she clapped her hands to indicate it was time to continue with the session. “I need time. He moves too fast. We sorted it before he left though. I think…”
She sighed. “Well you’ll find out a week from Friday, won’t you?”
“I said I’d call tomorrow,” I said quietly as the class resumed.
I sat in the car, radio playing, looking at my phone. It felt like days since I had last spoken to him, not a few hours. There was no logic to it. We weren’t a couple. I shouldn’t miss him, not after just two nights together. Certainly not after the conversation we had that morning. I’d been so embarrassed. I didn’t know men could tell if women faked it. I didn’t think they gave a shit. I assumed they were just in it to get theirs and go to sleep. If nothing else, I’d learned something.
Jason was different.
I should have known he meant it. He really wanted to make me happy. He cared how I felt. It was how he’d always been, right up until he left. One thing I didn’t expect was for him to accept the scars that marred my body. I expected questions and revulsion, not tender kisses and reassurances.
There wasn’t much daylight left, and I looked through the windscreen at my house. Almost everything of consequence that had happened in my life after Jason, had taken place in this house. My whole adult life was contained in these four walls. I’d hated it for a long time, but not as much as I did in this moment. I didn’t want to go inside. I didn’t want to return to a life that brought me so much misery. It hadn’t been the easiest two days, but faced with my empty house and the ghosts that followed me around it, I knew which I preferred. But he wasn’t here. He couldn’t be. We lived different lives. I worked, paid my bills, and spent time with my only real friend when we had time. He ran a multi-million-pound company, lived in Cambridge near his mum, and probably spent time with his family. His life was hours away and didn’t include me. It couldn’t.
Grabbing my water bottle, I opened the car door and stepped out onto the drive. The same familiar shiver ran down my spine, and I steeled myself against the flood of memories. Anyone else would have moved. Anyone else would have walked away from that house. But I’d never been one for running away. I used the feelings the memories invoked as a shield. I spent seven years drawing strength from everything I’d lived through, but it wasn’t working. Not tonight.
I was almost at the door when my phone rang.
I answered and stuck my key in the lock. “Hello?”
“I know you said tomorrow, but I needed to know you were okay.”
The relief was instant. I didn’t care if he heard the breath I exhaled. “I am now.”
There was a moment’s silence. I stood on my front step with the key still in the lock, waiting for his response.
“Good. I mean, I was worried. I didn’t want you to… Well, I wasn’t sure if I’d offended you and…”
I smiled at his rambling and pushed open the door. “It’s fine, Jase. Thank you for checking in though.”
I went straight into the kitchen and looked at the fridge, then turned around and went straight upstairs as he said, “Am I intruding?”
“No,” I replied quickly, going into my room and sitting on the edge of my bed. “I just got in from a workout, and I’m shattered. I assume you got home okay?”
“Yeah, the roads were quiet. One of the teams was called out to a leak in Norfolk. I swung by to help, so I just got back myself.”
“That was quick,” I said, wiggling out of my gym clothes and putting them in the laundry basket inside my wardrobe. Then I stood in front of the mirror on the door and looked at myself. At the squishy parts of my body I hadn’t managed to tone up. At the scars that weren’t covered by my underwear, wondering how he’d kept from recoiling from them. I traced them with my eyes but didn’t touch them. I hated how they felt as much as I hated how they looked. Raised blemishes that felt smooth to the touch, but I couldn’t feel anything around them because the nerves there were damaged, which explains why I hadn’t realized he’d felt them. Each one was a constant reminder, an imprint of a part of my life I would be reminded of every time I looked at myself.
He laughed, pulling my attention away from my body and back to him. “A rival company had it first, turned out they couldn’t handle it. They’d already dug it out and had the water turned off. I called and had them turn the water on as soon as I got there, fitted the rig and left the guys to clean it up.”
I turned off the light and climbed into bed. “What time will they get home?”
“They won’t, I sorted them rooms for the night. Any other work questions or can we get back to talking about you?”
My stomach turned over at the notion being important enough to be the sole topic of conversation. “I don’t like talking about me.”
“Humor me,” he said seriously. “What are you wearing?” He changed to a playful, cheeky tone.
I choked. “What?”
He was silent. Waiting. I couldn’t even hear him breathing.
I pressed my lips together and closed my eyes. “Just underwear. I’m in bed.”
“I’d rather be there with you.”
A flutter of excitement turned in my stomach. “Where are you?”
“Sitting in my car in the garage in the dark, thinking about you in your underwear.”
“That’s…”
“Yeah, sounds creepy when you say it out loud. But it’s true. Well, the underwear part is a new development since you brought it up. I’m not that big a pervert, but you mentioned it and my mind does stuff.”
I set off laughing. “I miss you.” It was out before I could stop it. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.
“If I could be back up there sooner, I would be. Really. I have stuff I’m needed for here, otherwise I’d be on the road.”
I believed it. I wanted it. But he had responsibilities like I did. Bigger. I almost offered to go to him but lost my nerve at the last second. “It’ll fly,” I said instead. “We can always call each other, can’t we?”
“What sort of workout do you do?” he asked, changing the subject.
Confused by his sudden change in direction, I answered, “Just kettlebells. I need it for core strength after… after the accident. It’s kept me right for years. Haylie isn’t a fan, but she comes with me when she can.”
“But she goes with you even though she doesn’t like it?”
“Yep. She came with me when I first started for moral support. It ended up being a sort of habit. She does that with me, I do karaoke with her.” Talking about her made me feel so grateful for her friendship. I smiled to myself.
“Sounds like a fair trade off to me. So, you still sing?”
“I drink too much and shout down a mic. Yeah,” I teased. I’d forgotten he used to listen to me sing. I often won the karaoke contest in our local pub and kept us in free jugs of beer on Thursday nights.
“I’ll have to remember that. Nat, sorry, I have to go,” he said abruptly. “Can I call you tomorrow?”
I frowned. “I thought I was calling you?”
“What time will you be home?” he asked. He suddenly seemed in a rush to end the call.
“From six. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day. I’ll call tomorrow.”
“Okay. Erm… Goodnight.”
“I’ll be thinking about you.”
The call ended before I could respond, and I dropped the phone on the bed at my side and flopped back on my pillow. I was probably reading too much into it, but his hot then cold manner had me wondering what was wrong with him. He called me, he wanted to speak to me, then he couldn’t wait to get off the phone. He hadn’t behaved that way the last two days. It was weird.
Could someone have interrupted him? I
pushed the thought away. That assumption wouldn’t lead anywhere positive, and he’d told me he was single. I had no reason to think he’d lied to me. He was probably just tired. I knew I was, and I hadn’t been crawling around in a hole all evening. It had been a long twelve hours, and he’d had the same start to the day I had.
I turned on my side and opened my phone. Before I lost my nerve, I sent a message.
Thanks for checking in. I know I said I’d contact you tomorrow, but I think I really needed it.
I watched three little dots bounce at the bottom of my screen and felt a flutter in my stomach.
I’m thinking about you ;)
I fell asleep feeling positive. I had a job that was perfect for me. I had the best friend anyone could ever ask for. Jason was back in my life, and for the time being, it wasn’t terrible. The ghosts of my past that usually tormented me were quiet tonight, and I hoped they’d stay quiet after. It was silly, but I was sure Jase had chased them away.
Chapter Eleven
The light was on.
“Trust me.”
It was barely a whisper as his tongue circled my right nipple. I wanted to. God, I wanted to with as badly as I wanted him. It had been the longest ten days of my life, waiting for him to come back, but he didn’t know what he was asking of me.
His hand was stroking my inner thigh. With each down stroke, he came closer and closer to the apex of my thighs, and I wiggled my hips in encouragement.
His lips were beside my belly button, and he smiled against my skin. “Not yet.”
It was the worst kind of torture. I wanted to scream in frustration. I might not have reached an orgasm, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t love the feel of him inside me, and that’s what I wanted. “Ja… Jase.” I couldn’t speak. I was nervous and excited all at once, my stomach churning in anticipation of what he was planning to do. Longing to feel more of him.
“Trust me.”
His mouth moved lower. His breath was hot on my inner thigh where his hand had been moments before, then his lips brushed the sensitive skin.
“It’ll be worth it.”
He sucked. At first it was painful, but it changed instantly, the sensation triggering a response elsewhere. My abdominal muscles clenched, and I pushed my hips down into the mattress. He followed, closing his mouth over my clit and rolling his tongue over the exposed nub.
It felt wrong. No. Not wrong. It felt good. Just, unfamiliar. I wanted to roll away from him. To make the sensations stop. But he wasn’t going to let me. Not unless I specifically told him no. If I said that one word he’d back off. He’d promised. But he had specifically said he wanted to watch me come before he got his.
I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I grasped his hair. All that did was push his face further into me. His response was to suck harder on my clit.
A wave of coldness ran through my body from my feet up. “Please.” In my head, I screamed it. The reality was I’d just about managed a whisper. “Oh…”
Two fingers slid inside me, moving in time with his mouth. He was going to tease an orgasm from me if it killed him. I could feel it building, and I didn’t know what to do about it.
Hot and cold. I could feel the two sensations racing through my veins, vying for control of me as Jason inched me closer and closer. My hips were moving, my fingers tangled in his hair, and I could feel the orgasm he’d been determined to give me surging to the surface. I was right there, on the edge of a precipice, and he felt it. He felt me clench around his fingers, my mind warring with the need to let it go and the need to suppress it.
Keeping his fingers inside me, stroking my g-spot, he moved up the bed and kissed me. I could taste myself on him, the salty tang of my arousal, and that undid me. I clung to him as the force wracked my body. It ran through me in waves, the epicenter clutching at his fingers still inside me and moving out through my extremities.
It hadn’t stopped when he pulled away from me and moved down my body again.
“Oh, god... Please…”
He ignored my panted plea and ran his tongue over my clit again. My body jerked, and he withdrew his fingers, looked up at me, and grinned. “Go with it.”
He drew a second from me without much effort, using his mouth to massage my clit with expert skill. It tingled on my skin for what felt like minutes as the waves of pleasure ebbed away.
I was panting when he lowered himself over me, settling between my legs. He stroked a hand over my hair and kissed me as he slid inside. I froze.
“Did you…”
“Yes.” He smiled before kissing me. Then he began to move. Each grind of his hips was slow, controlled, and he watched me. “Are you okay?”
I let out a small laugh and smiled, running my hands over his shoulders and up the sides of his neck. He shivered at my touch and groaned, bending his head to kiss me. His thrusts became longer. Deeper. They felt amazing after my two orgasms, he filled me, satisfied me, felt right inside me. Then he picked up pace. With his head bowed, breathing heavily in my ear, he came to his own orgasm quickly.
“Fuck…”
His orgasm wracked his body. I held him for a few moments, stroking the back of his head before he rolled off and removed the condom. “Sorry.”
I turned my head to the side. “What? Why?”
“I didn’t think… Well, it’s been a couple of weeks… Are you okay?”
I grinned. “Perfect.”
It was true. I hadn’t been this vulnerable with anyone in so long, and I wasn’t sure I would be able to relax. I was so nervous. He’d told me he’d wait all night if he had to, and he wasn’t getting off until I had. The fear of disappointing him was crippling.
I had missed him terribly, though. Every phone call had built the anticipation. Every conversation had been a step closer to being with him again, and the promise of having him, of feeling like myself again, had overridden the nerves.
He rolled onto his side and looked into my eyes. “You’re so beautiful, Nathalie. I can’t believe I found you again.”
I lowered my eyes and felt my cheeks flush.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, catching my gaze.
“I’m not. I mean, I don’t feel…”
He moved so quickly I couldn’t stop him from parting my legs and kneeling between them. I lay there and looked up at him, watching him as he studied my body.
“Jase…” I said, reaching for the blanket to cover myself.
“Stop. I think you’re beautiful.” He reached out a hand and ran a finger over some of my scars. “These don’t affect that. I don’t care about them. They aren’t what I love about you.”
I blinked up at him. He carried on, “You’re beautiful in every way a person can be. I don’t know what exactly you’ve been through, but you came out on the other side, and you’re still the same woman I loved all those years ago.”
I licked my suddenly parched lips.
“Say something.”
I shook my head.
“Are you going to tell me how you got them?”
I closed my eyes and sighed, then shuffled up the bed, teasing the duvet down. I arranged it so I was fully covered, hiding beneath it, before meeting his gaze.
“I was run over.” My voice shook.
He moved closer, reaching for my hand. I let him take it, and he rubbed his thumb over my palm as he waited for me to find the words.
I decided on the spot to tell him. If I concentrated too much I’d lock up, and he needed to know. He wouldn’t keep pressing if it weren’t important to him. It wasn’t how I wanted to tell him, but for the first time I was able to. He’d seen the mess. He deserved to know what caused it.
“I got in from work late…” I paused, wondering if I was making a mistake. He squeezed my hand reassurance, so I carried on, “I knew better, but I got talking to an old friend from school. She asked how I was, I told her I was married. Asked who to.” I smiled sadly. “Her face was a picture when I said his name. He’d been shagging her for
months. Obviously, I was furious. I walked through the door, and he grabbed me as soon as it was closed, which was normal if I was late. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. Demanded to know who I was fucking. My answer was ‘well it’s not Michaela Jones.’”
His brows raised as he recognised the name, but he didn’t say anything.
I took a breath. “He punched me in the face. My nose broke immediately. He usually kept it to where it wouldn’t be seen, but I think I shocked him. I started screaming at him. He lost his temper, probably more shocked that I was defending myself, and really went for it. I managed to get out of the house, no idea how, but he caught up with me in the drive. Another slap, I fell, and he jumped into his Defender. I must have hit my head, because I didn’t get out of the way. The pain must have made me black out again. But…” I paused and ran my free hand over my abdomen. “The neighbors heard, phoned the police and an ambulance. I landed in the worst possible position, they said. Three tons of Land Rover crushed my pelvis. It took twenty-four hours and two surgeries to get the internal bleeding under control. Another one to pin my pelvis and femur.”
My throat was dry. He hadn’t moved an inch while I’d told him the whole story, his hand still holding mine. His face was expressionless. Not knowing if that was good or bad I swallowed, took a steadying breath, and kept talking while I still could.
“They got me on my feet then sent me home. I carried on with therapy and was good to go back to work two years later. I made it to the hearing, dragged myself into court on crutches. He was sentenced to seven years. That was a reduced sentence with conditions. He gave me the divorce I demanded, signed over the house I paid for anyway, and agreed to adhere to a lifetime restraining order. It wasn’t enough, but it was all the justice I was going to get. So I sorted myself out, got back to work, and here I am.” I tried to smile, but that was a step too far, so I chewed my bottom lip and waited for him to respond.
“What is his name?” he asked eventually.
