Page 85 of Cream & Sugar
“Nah. Takes m-more than a little cold to send me packing. And I m-meant hot in the literal sense, of course.” His hand wanders down my back and squeezes my butt. “How could I mean anything else?”
Clearly someone’s feeling better. I ignore him, though his hand can stay where it is.
“You’re not shivering so much now,” I say, like a doctor assessing his patient, though I’m not sure my technique is exactly NHS approved. “In a minute, I can run you a warm bath?”
Freddie grins. “T-trying to get me naked?”
“I’mtryingto save you from hypothermia, you beautiful fool.”
He manages a shivery laugh.
“Don’t worry,” he nuzzles in closer, “I’m w-warming up already.”
Even if I plan on telling him off later, for now I’m just so glad he’s okay. Now I know he’s feeling better, I allow myself to enjoy the intimacy of the moment, how in spite of everything, his body feels so perfect against mine. Like a jigsaw piece finding its neighbour. I could lay here all night.
Freddie scoots his hips forward, into mine, and I feel every inch of him, warm and hard.
“Don’t move,” he whispers.
I plant a soft kiss on top of his head.
“Not even if you paid me.”
I knock on my bathroom door to check on Freddie. “Just checking you’re okay in there?”
A faint splash of water from inside. “I haven’t drowned if that’s what you mean.”
I scratch my beard, nervously. “The water’s not too hot? It’s not good to take a scalding bath right after being cold. I tried to make it warm, but not too warm. Is it okay?”
“If you’re that worried, why don’t you come in and check?”
Despite his repeated offers to join him, I insisted on giving Freddie his privacy in the bath. Mostly because he’s a little drunk, quite high, and possibly still hypothermic and while I’ve just got over the whole “he’s my employee” hump, I don’t want anything else to happen until I’m sure he’s compos mentis. Still, I made sure he left the door unlocked. In case of emergencies.
“Just let me know if you need anything!” I call through the door.
“Boo,” comes Freddie’s reply, dripping with sarcasm. “I’m almost done anyway.”
“Want another hot chocolate?”
“Twist my arm, why don’t you?”
Glad for something to do other than wait around and worry, I leave Freddie to it and go make him another mug.
With the heating turned all the way up, the flat is balmy and I long since shed my sweater for the T-shirt underneath. As I pour Freddie’s drink, I catch my reflection in the chrome surface of the coffee machine. Despite the paunch, and the worry lines on my face, I think I look good. Judging by the trails blazed by Freddie’s wandering hands on the sofa, he doesn’t seem to mind the belly I’ve grown.
An echo of a voice that sounds a lot like Lara’s rings through my head, telling me I should probably slim down before summer. Strangely, it has a lot less impact than it normally would and is easily brushed away by the ghost of Freddie’s touch. I’m almost certain Freddie would never say anything like that; there isn’t a judgmental bone in his, admittedly, perfect body.
As I top off his hot chocolate with the mandatory “skooshy cream,” a golden truth dawns on me—the reason I feel so comfortable around Freddie: he accepts me for who I am, something Lara never did. She was always trying to make me better. Maybethat’s why all those years I spent with her, I never felt like I was good enough.
The bathroom door clicks open and, in a cloud of billowing steam, Freddie emerges, one of my towels wrapped around his waist. I’m thankful to see Zombie Freddie came off in the wash. His skin has returned to its normal radiance. The tight muscles of his upper body glow and glisten with moisture. His damp hair cascades to his shoulders in a messy sprawl. The sight of his bare body doesn’t fully incapacitate me anymore, but it’s still near impossible to look away. He really is the most gorgeous thing.
“Aw, would you look at that!” Freddie rests his hands on his hips. “I’m half-naked and you’re not. Hardly seems fair, does it?”
“I suppose not,” I say, sprinkling a few decorative mini marshmallows onto Freddie’s hot chocolate.
“Guess you’d better take your shirt off too. Level the playing field.”
“Or you could put some clothes on?” Wow. That didn’t even remotely sound like I meant it.
