Page 59 of The Writer
Another crashing orgasm floods through me at the same time as I feel him come. My eyes close as he stills on me, my fingers flexing in his because of the pain in them, until he starts moving tenderly again. It all slows then. Quiet again. Peaceful, as we get our breaths back.
“Open those eyes for me,” he says.
I do and find his stare looking down at me. Watching me breathe, watching my lips search for words. Watching my own blue eyes look into his. They're still so green. Like a forest. Long eyelashes. Wide black pupils. A firm brow and harsh cheekbones surrounding something soft for me. I run a hand through his hair, letting it cup his jaw. I could get lost in those eyes. I could trust them. I know I could. In fact, after what we’ve been through, I know Icantrust them.
His hands come up to the side of my head, strong fingers moving my hair out of the way so he can see everything, and then he’s kissing me again. Kissing. Not for fucking’s sake, but because we can. Because we can kiss forever and forget everything else outside this room for a while. We’ll do that some more first. We’ll kiss and keep going until I can work out what this means.
What he means.
~
Finally dressed from our morning’s activities, I look back at him over my shoulder and memorise the vision of him in this room. Christ knows how long it’s been since I slept in my old bedroom, but I know one thing for sure—he’s the only man that’s ever slept in it with me. It makes me smile and nod to myself, accepting the fact that this means more to me than I ever thought it would when I met him. Must do. I’ve brought him home, shown him my family. No parents yet, though.
That’s about to change.
“You ready?” I ask, watching him push back the curtains. “And you really don’t need to do that, Sophie will be in soon enough.”
“Sophie?”
“Maid.”
He sighs about something and picks his bag up from the floor, packing his belongings into it. “You really are rich, aren’t you?”
“Me? Not especially. Landon’s got far more than me, and Father’s fortune is obscene.” He zips up his bag then pulls a black T-shirt over his head, running his hands through his still-wet hair. “You’re about to meet him by the way.”
“He’s here?”
“Yes. His car’s been pulled around the front. I can only assume he’s going out soon. I’d like to catch him before he does.”
“Why?”
“Questions need answering.”
“Whose is the other car?”
I wander back to the window, looking down. “No idea. It wasn’t there before the shower. Oh, it’ll be the police. What was his name?”
“DCI Jenkins."
“Yes. Him. Interview’s in …” I check the clock on the bedside table. “One hour.”
He looks at me and walks closer, frowning. “Landon knows what he’s doing, right?” I nod, absolutely sure being a lawyer is the one thing my brother does know how to do. “I still would have done the same; you should know that. I wasn’t going to let them touch you.” He places a kiss on my forehead, as if sealing that statement. “But it would be good to avoid a prison stretch.”
“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong. Remember that when DCI arsehole starts up with the interrogation. You saved us.” Me, he saved me—again. My lips quirk at the thought, eyes scanning his body. “That’s what heroes do.”
He smiles and sucks in a breath, cricking his neck around. “Come on then. Let’s go meet the parents.” I grab his hand and start out onto the landing. “Might as well find out how hard I’m going to have to plead my case with them as well as your brother,” he murmurs.
My feet stop, body spinning round to look at him. “That stops now. There will be no pleading. I want you here, and that should be enough. They’ll see, soldier.” My lips press to his, nose rubbing comically with his as if we’re penguins, until I turn and start us off towards the stairs. “Besides, Landon’s a pussy cat really. Bastard, yes, but honestly, he’s just looking out for me. He does that sort of thing for all of us. Father wasn’t the best in the way of fatherly.”
“No?”
“No. All this glamour came at a price. That was him never being here, and the few times he was, he was both tired and mean,” I reply, walking us down the stairs into the main foyer.
“Mean?”
“Who’s mean?” Mother says. I stop and look back the other way, watching her sashay into the hall. She looks at Blake, a perfectly welcoming smile in place.
“No one, Mother.” She cuts past him and wraps me up lightly, kissing both my cheeks.
