Page 82 of You Had Me at Chateau
He reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is gentle, and I can feel my breath catch in my throat. We’re so close now, I can see every detail in his eyes, feel the heat radiating from his body, the excitement building in him too, as every part of him tenses up.
‘Amber,’ he says softly, and there’s a question in his voice.
‘Caleb,’ I whisper back, not sure what I’m saying, only that I don’t want this moment to end.
Whenever I’ve seen people get together in movies, and they’ve had that synchronised, unspoken moment where their bodies just snap together, because they know the time is right, I’ve always wondered if that actually happens. It turns out it does. It’s like our bodies are speaking to each other, going over our heads, making plans of their own, and all we can do is go along with them.
As we kiss, Caleb scoops me up in his arms, grabbing me by the bum as I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.
‘Bedroom,’ I mumble to him between kisses. ‘I don’t see why this underwear should have all the fun, it’s you that I want.’
‘And you told me you didn’t know how to be spicy,’ he replies, in a breathy voice, as he does as he’s asked.
Caleb lies me down on his bed and slowly removes my stockings, one after the other, unwrapping me, like I’m a present that he wants to savour.
I bite my lip as I watch him at work. He kisses his way up my leg, until he’s at eye level again, and as his body presses down on me, and his lips meet mine, everything falls into place. It’s not that I’m not a spicy kind of girl, I just needed the right person to bring it out of me.
42
Waking up in Caleb’s arms, everything just feels right.
Last night was beyond incredible. I didn’t think nights like that existed outside the movies, but it turns out they do.
Caleb is nothing short of phenomenal in the bedroom. I remember once having a taster session with a personal trainer, during a brief stint where I had a gym membership (which, hilariously, was only for research for a book, not to be healthy), and the whole time I was there it felt like he was carrying me. He was great, strong, agile, and just generally knew what he was doing, and I was just doing my best to keep up. It was a bit like that. Actually, it was a lot like that.
He has retrospectively obliterated every other man I’ve slept with by being so, so much better than them in every way. I can still feel it all, if I let my mind wander back a few hours.
The soft rise and fall of his chest beneath my head feels like the most comforting rhythm in the world. Caleb is still sleeping, and even though I’m awake I’m tempted to stay here forever, basking in the warmth of his arms. I could get up, and I could write, because I have never felt so inspired, but, really, I just want to be here, with him, like this. I just want to lie here, tracingthe contours of his abs with my fingertips, and smile smugly to myself.
Life has other ideas, though. There’s a loud banging on the door and the sound of a woman shouting, which makes me jump and wakes Caleb up. He listens for a moment and then groans.
I look at him, as if to ask what’s going on, only to see his expression shift from confusion to recognition as the familiar voice of his ex, Annabelle, echoes through the chalet.
‘It’s Annabelle, and I’m not going anywhere until you let me in, we need to talk,’ she calls out.
Her tone is like a siren, demanding attention (or warning of danger), and I can’t help but wonder why she’s here, why she’s so mad, and what she will do when she finds out I’m in here.
Caleb grabs his phone from the bedside table and his face drops as he scans his notifications. Whatever he sees doesn’t seem to sit well with him.
‘Shit,’ he says to himself softly. His tone seems to change all of a sudden. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was mad at me.
‘Stay here and stay hidden,’ he tells me, with all the warmth of a drill sergeant. ‘I’ll go get rid of her.’
‘Okay,’ I reply softly.
I do as I’m told and stay in the bedroom while Caleb goes into the living room, to let Storm Annabelle inside.
As I strain to listen from my hiding place – aka Caleb’s bed – while he chats to his ex in the other room (standard stuff), I’m almost impressed at how Annabelle’s voice pierces the air with a mix of anger and hurt.
‘I can’t believe you, Caleb! How could you let people think those pictures are me?’ she snaps at him. ‘The one that hit the net last night, oh my God, everyone thinks it’s me, going down on you in a car, and then I look on your Insta, to see where you are, and I find out that it is you, you are here, and you’reparading around with some weird body double of me, posting pictures of the two of you, do you know how messed up that is?’
I don’t know if Annabelle gives Caleb a chance to reply, or if he has nothing to say for himself, because the next voice I hear is Annabelle’s.
‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ she presses him. ‘Do you really think this is okay?’
‘You broke up with me,’ he reminds her. ‘I thought you would be happy, to see me moving on.’
‘But have you moved on, Caleb? Have you really?’ Annabelle’s voice wavers with emotion. ‘Because you’re running around France with some kind of cheap knock-off, and I’m seeing pictures of you, and her, and you’re up to all sorts and… and you just look so happy… and, truthfully, it was like a knife to the heart.’
