Chapter 11
eleven
. . .
artie
I gaze open-mouthed at the man on my step. Ben .
He’s changed, and I can’t help but itemise the differences to the boy I knew and loved so long ago. He’s taller, his shoulders more broad, and his hair shorter.
The last time I’d seen him was a couple years ago. I’d bumped into him on the high street, and he’d told me he was home from New York for Christmas. I’d been hurt because if I hadn’t seen him by chance, he probably wouldn’t have told me he was back.
“Surprise,” he says now, laughing as he scoops me up into a hug.
I return it, bewildered. A cough sounds from beside me and I pull back. “What are you doing here?” I ask Ben.
He gives me the wide, little-boy smile that pulls out a dimple in his cheek. “What’s up?”
That smile used to charm me, and I thought I’d see it for the rest of my life. Now, it looks a little thin, and I can’t help comparing it to the ones my formerly reticent husband has given me so much lately. Those I hoard like Rumpelstiltskin does his gold.
Ben clears his throat. He’s always had my instant attention. It must be startling not to.
“Erm, Ben.” I step back and Jed’s arm immediately clasps me to his side. “This is my husband, Jed.”
Jed directs a charming smile at Ben, and I notice it doesn’t meet his eyes.
“You’re Artie’s husband?” Ben says.
Jed nods. “Nice to finally meet you.”
Something flares in Ben’s eyes. “Aww, so Artie’s spoken about me. I’m glad he hasn’t forgotten me.”
I shift my weight, feeling suddenly awkward. I never expected to see Ben again, and having him near Jed is disconcerting.
Jed keeps his arm around me but doesn’t say anything.
“It would be hard to forget you, Ben,” I say quietly. “Your parents did take me in for a long time.”
Irritation flares, and I remember how cross he used to be if I didn’t understand him immediately. “They took you in because you and I were together. They’d have never done it for anyone else.”
I tip my head, considering this. I quickly decide it’s not worth further thought. “What are you doing here? Are you over for the holidays?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m back for good.”
“How very Take That of you,” Jed murmurs. His arm has a wire of tension vibrating through it, but he still has that smile on his face.
“I thought you were happy over there, Ben,” I say.
When the New York office offered him a job, he’d been off like a fox after a rabbit. He had no intention of inviting me along and I doubt he even looked back once.
“Well, I was, but it was time to come back. My old man promised me a corner office and their flat in Bermondsey.”
“Oh, you always wanted that.” I smile at him. “I’m pleased for you. Your mum and dad must be happy to have you home.”
His laugh has a careless edge. “I suppose so. Anyway, never mind that. I came to get you.”
“ Get me? I’m not a sack of potatoes you forgot to pick up.” I hear a soft laugh and step closer to Jed.
Ben reaches out, but Jed positions his body slightly in front of me.
Ben’s hand drops and his eyes fill with anger, but then he gives me a coaxing smile that I know very well. He uses it to get his way in all things. It’s the most successful thing in his repertoire. “Sorry. Poor choice of words. I came to take you for dinner.”
“It’s ten o’clock at night,” Jed says flatly.
“And we already had lasagne,” I add. I look up at Jed and smile. “After the lovely dance lesson.”
His face relaxes slightly, and he gives me a faint smile. “It was hungry work fucking up all those dance steps.”
I shove him, laughing, and his smile widens.
“Well, come for a drink with me instead, Artie,” Ben says coaxingly. I hesitate, and he rolls his eyes. “Surely Jed can spare you for a few minutes? Or does he need you every second of the day?”
What the hell does that mean? “Don’t be rude,” I say sharply.
Ben raises his eyebrows, obviously surprised at my tone.
Jed gives me a reassuring squeeze. “It’s fine,” he murmurs.
“Sorry,” Ben says, recovering quickly as usual. Laughing, he looks at Jed. “Please, can I take your husband?”
Jed looks steadily at him until Ben squirms—something I’ve never witnessed Ben do. Jed gives him a charming smile. “You can certainly borrow him, but I must insist you give him back.”
That gives me more of a thrill than it should, but Ben grimaces. “There you go, Artie. You have the royal permission.”
Jed’s watching me intently. When I catch his eye, he smiles and steps back. My body is suddenly cold without his touch.
“You should go,” he says placidly.
“ Really ?”
He nods. “Of course. It’s good to see old friends.”
“Well, we were a lot more than that,” Ben offers. “But we won’t mention it, eh, Artie?”
I ignore him and take the coat that Jed hands me distractedly. Then, before I can even say goodbye, Ben’s pulling me out of the door. It’s all so quick—like being a passenger on a runaway train.
“Don’t wait up,” Ben calls to Jed.
“I won’t be long,” I say.
Jed offers me a reassuring smile. “It’s fine,” he says. “Take as long as you want.”
Just before the door shuts, I look back. Jed is standing like a statue in the doorway, his expression closed and cold.
I sigh and fidget in my seat, watching Ben place another order at the bar. This is the third drink he’s had, and his conversational abilities have suffered the consequences. We’ve travelled so far down memory lane that I’ll need a bus to get back home. And my back is twinging because I’ve had to contort myself to stop Ben from touching me. The touches have been constant—light ones on my knee and hand, and firmer ones to my face—but they all feel much too intimate to give someone who’s married.
Fake married, I remind myself. I can’t help but be annoyed by Ben’s posturing as he walks towards our table clutching our drinks. There’s a swagger to his walk, and he lifts his chin so the light gleams on his golden hair. There was a time when I would’ve been breathless with admiration, but now I just want to roll my eyes and tell him to hurry up so I can go home.
This man once had the power to get me to do anything. It’s nice to realise the last vestiges of his sway over me have worn off.
“Here you go,” he says, putting my drink on the table.
“I thought I said I wanted a soft drink.” I frown at the large glass of wine.
“Lighten up, Artie. You’re old before your time. Like your husband,” he mutters.
“ What ?”
“Jesus, it was just a joke,” he says with a martyred look. “You used to have a sense of humour.”
I stare at him. “Was that because I laughed at all your jokes? I can assure you one of those things is not like the other.”
He twitches as though something’s bitten him, but he apparently decides to ignore my comments. “Budge up,” he says, gesturing to my side of the booth.
“No, I don’t think so,” I reply quietly. “You can sit over the other side.”
“What the fuck ?”
I shrug. “You’ve been sitting far too close, Ben, and touching me all the time. It’s wrong when I’m with someone. If Jed behaved the same with an old friend, I wouldn’t like it.”
I’d more than not like it, but I won’t share that.
“An old friend? I was a lot more than that.”
I note the spoilt pout of his lips and the tightness around his eyes. He’s always been unpleasant when thwarted, and I used to run rings to avoid displeasing him. It seems silly to me now that I’ve been with a man who’s so different. Jed never manipulates me or plays games. He’s honest and forthright and always puts me first.
The revelation gives me even more courage. “No, I don’t think you were ever more than a friend, Ben. I know that now.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Nothing. I think I’m going to go. It’s been nice,” I lie, standing up.
“No, wait.” He tugs on my hand, keeping me in my seat. “Why are you so anxious to get back to him?”
“Because he’s my husband,” I say patiently.
He rolls his eyes and then leans closer. “Listen, I know .”
Anger stirs at his supercilious expression. “What do you know? How to irritate me? Well, you’re completely right with that assumption.”
“I don’t think I recognise you anymore.”
“Well, we all change. You and I are different people now.”
“Not that much. I still want you.”
I gape at him. I’d have been less stunned if he’d socked me in the face with a packet of fish.
His look is almost defiant. “Why are you looking at me like that? I do. I’ve missed you so much while I was away.” He leans in closer over the table.
I pull back. “Where has this come from?”
“Listen.” He takes my hand, but I only pull away again, making his mouth tighten. “I know about your marriage.”
Alarm seizes me, and I stare at him with wide eyes. “Pardon?”
“Guess who’s my mother’s housekeeper?” he asks, his tone triumphant.
“I can’t even begin to imagine,” I say wearily. He likes a fanfare more than the king. “Is it Taylor Swift?”
“It’s Violet.”
I look blankly at him.
He gestures impatiently. “Your stepmother’s old cleaner.”
“ Oh .”
He nods, his eyes bright with enjoyment. “She told us all about the bequest.”
I take a steadying breath. “I think she needs to get her own solicitor. She might be in trouble regarding confidentiality.”
He ignores that. “You were always so determined to get that house, and I just know that Daisy’s sticky fingers are all over this.”
“All over what?” I say faintly.
“Your fake marriage, of course.”
“That’s a big leap in reasoning.” My heart hammers, but my voice is gratifyingly calm.
He sits back and sips his drink, insufferably smug. “It didn’t take much to guess. You haven’t been with anyone since me.”
“And you’d know that how?”
“Jamie knows Daisy.”
“Oh well, it must be true if your friend says so.”
He rolls his eyes. “And to make an arrangement with your boss of all people, Artie.”
Anger stirs in me so fast it makes me dizzy. “What about him?” I say fiercely.
He recoils. “ Whoa . What’s that attitude for?”
“You don’t get to sneer at him,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Sorry, but the idea that the two of you are an item is ludicrous. He’s completely different from you.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong, which is hardly surprising, seeing as you hit right about once in a blue moon.” No one gets to talk badly about Jed in front of me.
“I beg your pardon?”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I have to protect Jed. If this gets out, he’d be a laughingstock, not to mention what we did could get him in trouble. I feel fiercely protective of him.
“He is my husband,” I say calmly, regarding Ben in a pitying way. “I don’t know where you’re getting your ideas from. Maybe you’ve watched too many soaps, but I can tell you that my marriage is as real as they come, and I’m very much in love with him. We were together way before Laura died.” I settle back, pulling the sleeves of my jumper down and steadying myself. “I’m going home.” The word comes out with a yearning ache, and Ben raises his eyebrows at me.
He’s probably seeing someone who doesn’t exist anymore. We met when we were at school together. I was the quiet one while he was popular and impossibly beautiful. I couldn’t believe it when he looked at me, and I never got rid of that faint sense of being unworthy of him.
I’m so bloody different from the boy I was, and I’m realising Jed is partially responsible for my transformation. He’s mentored me over the years, always patient, encouraging and giving praise I’d never had before. I’ve blossomed from his friendship, gaining the courage to try new things. Ironically, he gave me the very courage I needed to reach for him.
I was never really in love with Ben. Love is an emotion I feel for my husband, in all its ugly and glorious beauty. If I were sitting across from Jed after not seeing him for years, I’d be feeling a desperate passion and pain that I wasn’t with him.
My feelings for Ben had the clumsiness of a first relationship, and my time with him was always underlaid with the gratitude I felt towards his parents. Even though he might not have been fully conscious of it, Ben had all the power.
I smile at him, and after he considers me for a moment, his shoulders slump. “It is real,” he says. “You’ve really moved on?”
“Of course. You know I wouldn’t go into marriage without love.” I’m not lying, so the words ring true.
Ben sighs, giving me a resigned smile in return. Relief washes over me. He won’t challenge my marriage, and Jed will be safe from scrutiny.
I pat Ben’s shoulder. “You moved on before me. I just clung to the idea of you for a little longer. You were my comfort blanket.”
He grimaces. “Just what every man wants to hear. Thank you so much.”
I chuckle. “I’m not what you want, and you must see that.”
He takes my hand, his face as serious as I’ve ever seen it. “You’re very wrong, Artie. I want you back. That’s why I’m here.” He talks over me when I begin to protest. “You don’t believe me, and I know it’s too late, but I had time to think when I was away, and I realised that no one ever fit me like you did. You looked after me and cared for me. No one ever put me first like you.”
I remove my hand with difficulty from his octopus-like grip. “And that was the problem, Ben, because you didn’t do the same for me.” I smile at him. “You miss coming first? Well, maybe in your next relationship try putting the other person first, instead. Love is a two-way street, and you were strictly one-way for me.”
“And I suppose this attitude is all down to your new husband?”
I wink at him. “I know. Isn’t it wonderful?” I check my watch and stand up. “Well, I must be off.”
He sneers. “Got to go and put your husband to bed with a hot water bottle. Maybe make him a milky drink and lay out his flannel pyjamas?”
He’s been thwarted, so his charm has vanished the way it always does. It’s his mum’s fault. She’s lovely, but she always babied him and taught him that his needs were more important than anyone else’s.
I stare at him for a moment, not shy about my annoyance, and he looks slightly chastened. “Jed doesn’t wear pyjamas because it would be a crime to cover that body up, and I don’t need to warm the sheets for him. We burn them up together.” I tap his open mouth shut. “Be happy, Ben.”
I leave the bar. I know I won’t be seeing him again, and the thought makes me feel strangely free.
My phone rings after I start the walk home, and Daisy’s contact picture pops up. “Hey, you,” I say happily. “How are you?”
There’s an almost startled pause. “Why are you talking so loudly?”
“Was I?” I grin. “Maybe it’s because I just told Ben what I thought about him.”
“Ben, your ex?”
“That’s the one.”
“Oh my god, tell me what you said to that fucking tool and make it extremely detailed.”
She never liked him, and she laughs loudly as I relate the events of the evening. “That’s fucking epic, Artie. I’m so proud of you.” She pauses and her voice is thoughtful when she speaks again. “So, let me get this straight. You were being nice to him until he was rude about Jed?”
I blink. “Yes, I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”
“But why are you so bothered by him being nasty?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I really can’t see Jed ever being bothered by anything that arsewipe had to say.”
I hesitate. “Well, I know. But Jed is so lovely to me, and I feel a certain loyalty and—” I stop as she blows a raspberry. “Daisy?”
“Oh my god, you’re sleeping with him.”
I lick my lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, Pinocchio. Save it for Geppetto. You’re sleeping with him.”
I sigh. I can never keep anything from her. “Okay, I am.”
She screeches. “I knew it.” There’s a brief silence. “Are you being careful?” she asks, her tone concerned.
My cheeks flush, probably as bright as Rudolf’s red nose. “Of course ,” I mutter. “He takes care of everything.”
“That wasn’t what I meant, sweetie. I know how you feel about him.”
“Daisy, I’m fine,” I say firmly. “I have the chance to be with him the way I’ve always wanted, and so I’ll take it for the time we have. I never thought I’d get this opportunity, and it’s all good.”
“And you say he takes care of you?”
“Yes, of course. He looks after me. He’s more than I ever thought he would be.”
There’s another long pause. Then she says, her voice light and airy, “Well, that’s great. I’m so happy.”
“You are?”
“Of course. If he looks after you, I’m happy.”
“I’m not sure we’re talking about the same thing.”
“Oh, I think we are.”
“You are a mystery wrapped up in a ridiculous conundrum tonight. Let’s talk about you, instead. Seeing anyone new?”
“Yes.”
I narrow my eyes at the unusual brevity of that reply. “And? How long have you been seeing this one?”
“For a month.”
“Wow! That’s like a declaration of eternity with you. When do I get to meet her?”
“Maybe at a later date.”
“But I always meet your girlfriends.”
“Not yet. I want to keep this to myself for a while. Is that okay?”
“Of course it is,” I say after a moment of surprise. We both seem to be doing some growing up. “You know I’m always in your corner.”
“I do. And I’m so proud of you, Artie. I know how hard it is for you to speak your mind like that, especially to Ben.”
“Thank you.”
The energy buoys me all the way home. This speaking your mind is a marvellous thing. I give a little skip and make my way up the steps, fumbling for my keys.
The door opens before I can get them out of my pocket. Jed looks down at me. “Ben not with you?” he says, peering down the street. His voice is very tight, almost monotone.
I gape at him. “I thought you’d be in bed. We’ve got a really early start for the wedding in Cornwall tomorrow.”
He stands back to let me in. “As if I’d go to bed without knowing you’re…”
“What?”
“Home and safe,” he says reluctantly.
I keep glowing as I follow him down the corridor.
“You seem happy,” he observes.
“I am.” We pass the lounge and I notice something new. “Oh, you got the sofa out,” I exclaim.
The huge new sectional sofa was delivered yesterday, but we didn’t have time to do anything with it. Now it’s set in front of the fireplace, the cushions we chose arranged, and a newspaper open on it. Flames in the fireplace crackle and pop, filling the room with the scent of applewood and making the room look so cosy. My mum’s Tiffany lamp has pride of place on a side table, and it twinkles in the firelight.
“Yes,” he mutters. Rather than stopping to admire it with me, he stalks past me into the kitchen. I direct a bewildered look at his tight back, the muscles showing gorgeous definition.
“Are you okay?” I give the sofa a last fond look and trot after him into the kitchen. “You seem very tense. Ouf !” I rebound off his back because he’s stopped dead in the middle of the room.
“Do I? Do I really ?” His eyes glitter, but his expression is unreadable. If it weren’t for the tic in his cheek, I wouldn’t know how tightly he’s holding on to control.
“What’s the matter?” I ask immediately, coming close. “What’s happened?”
“Where’s Ben?” he snaps.
“Ben?”
He rolls his eyes. “Yes, Ben. The man who you went out with tonight. The love of your life, wasn’t he?”
Oh. Is he jealous? I examine his face, but it’s hard to tell. No man has ever been jealous over me before.
“He’s fine,” I say tentatively. “He’s back for good.”
“Really? How lovely .” He spins and picks up a towel to clean the counter, but as there’s only one length installed, and it’s covered with a kettle, a toaster, and a bread bin, it doesn’t take long.
I watch as he does it again. “Jed?”
He spins around. Any sign of emotion is now gone. “I needed to say that if you want to bring him back here, I can clear off and get a hotel for the night.”
This is so out of left field that I stand there gaping at him. “What are you talking about?”
He sucks in a breath and then visibly calms himself. “I said if you wanted to bring him back, I’d get out of your way.”
I put my hands on my hips, anger stirring. “And you’d be okay with that? What happened to our agreement that we wouldn’t see other people during this arrangement?”
He looks down at his hands. He’s clenching the tea towel so tightly his knuckles are white. He folds it neatly and sets it down. “That was before someone you really care about came back on the scene. I could never stand in the way of you being happy.”
The earnestness in his voice is so endearing that my anger drains away. “So, would you be okay if he came around here again to see me?” I ask, examining his face carefully.
His gaze shifts towards the window, but hiding won’t work, as his distraught face is reflected clearly in the glass. “Of course,” he says woodenly.
“And you’d be okay if he sleeps in my bed?”
His face spasms, and he closes his eyes.
I’m abruptly ashamed of myself. “Jed, I?—”
“No,” he snaps, spinning around, and now everything is naked on his face—jealousy and pain and something else. “No, it’s not okay.”
“Why?” I say steadily. His eyes flare, and he steps towards me. And when he takes another slow, purposeful step, I move back, slightly regretting pulling the tiger’s tail. Which is why it’s bemusing to find myself saying, “It doesn’t seem like you’re okay with me seeing Ben?”
“Don’t say his name,” Jed snaps.
I gasp as he drags me into his arms and takes my mouth. The kiss is furious and hard, but the passion behind it makes it the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
“I don’t want you to see him,” he says between kisses. He pulls at my clothes, fabric tearing and falling to the floor as he strips us naked. He stops to rummage in the pocket of his jeans for a packet of lube and a condom, and then he grabs my arse, hoisting me up and pressing me against the wall.
His effortless strength turns me on, and I stroke his bulging biceps and wind my legs around him.
“Don’t fuck him,” he says, kissing me between words. He shoves his tongue into my mouth and sucks on mine. “Please don’t fuck him.”
“I won’t ,” I promise feverishly, holding him tight and pulling at his hair.
He gives a pained grunt. “I mean it. I couldn’t stand it. You’re mine while this is going on.”
I’m always his, but I can’t say it, so I kiss him back, rutting against him, feeling the pressure of his abs against my cock.
“He means nothing,” I promise, gasping as he presses rough kisses to my throat. “I told him I wouldn’t see him again.”
“Good.” He examines my face intently, both of us drawing in hoarse gasps of air. I wriggle against him, groaning as he grips my arse. “Come here,” I whisper, and he obeys.
Our kisses become deeper and more lush as we suck and lick each other’s lips. His hands sting as he clenches my arse, holding me as if he fears I’ll run away. That’s not going to happen, and I tell him so in heated whispers as I rub against him, delighting in his rough chest hair on my nipples. They’re swollen with the abrasion, and I cry out as he bends to take one in his mouth, sucking at it before biting it gently. The pain is sweet and bright, and my balls tighten as if I’m going to come. I stay still for a second, hearing my breaths come fast and hard.
“Oh god,” I whisper, twining my hands in his hair and clutching him close. “Do that again.”
My head falls back against the wall, and I stare sightlessly up at the ceiling as he bites and sucks on my nipple until it hurts—hurts and feels so good at the same time. And when he takes the other nipple between his fingers and pinches it hard, pleasure runs through my body like an electric shock.
I clutch him close and let everything go—all my worries and concern, the hopes and the love I feel for him—all lost in this passion between us.
When he pulls away, his mouth is swollen, and the colour is high on his face. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he pinches my nipple again. Another sharp, vicious pinch, and his face is dark with want as he watches me squirm.
“You like that?” he says hoarsely.
“I love it,” I whisper.
His eyes flare. “No one else can do this for you.” I nod, and he hands me the lube packet. “Open it,” he orders, and I make haste to obey him. “Now get yourself ready.”
It’s awkward but he lifts me higher so that I can contort and reach for my hole. The first touch makes me screw my eyes closed. “God,” I whisper.
“Eyes open. I want to see,” he snaps.
My eyes fly open. Our gazes clash and hold as I insert my finger. I’m tight, and in the pain is a flare of dark pleasure.
“Keep looking,” he orders.
I hold his gaze as I open myself up with one and then two fingers while he watches me with hungry, avid eyes.
“Enough,” he finally says. “Give me your hands.”
I lift my arms, groaning as he grabs my fingers and sucks them. “They taste of you,” he says, and I squirm to get closer. “Arms around my neck. Hold on tight.”
I hasten to obey, bracing myself as he reaches between us and slides the condom on. The sight is so arousing that I fear I’ll come. But then he thrusts inside me, making me give a sharp cry.
He goes still, panting, his breath hot on the side of my face. “Okay?” he gasps. He kisses me, and I cling onto him, feeling the stretch and burn.
“It’s perfect ,” I say fervently.
The sex is hot, fast, and furious. He hammers into me, grunting loudly with each thrust while I cling on like a limpet, wrapping my arms and legs around him and forcing myself down on his cock. In this position, he’s hitting my prostate almost constantly, and I shudder in his arms, gasping, my toes curling. Sweat clings to both of us making us gloriously sticky. His hot breaths strike my throat, and I suddenly need to see him. I grab his hair, and his face comes up. His lids are lowered sexily and sweat runs down his cheek. His lips are drawn tight, and his cheeks are ruddy.
“Jed,” I groan.
“Fuck,” he grunts, pushing into me again. “I just want to fucking live inside you.”
I curl my arms around his neck, dragging him closer and groaning as his hair-roughened body rubs against me, the wet tip of my cock painting stripes on his stomach.
“I’m close,” he says, burying his head in my neck and biting down on the tender junction at my shoulder. “Do you need my hand?”
The bite lights me up like a pinball machine, and I clench my arse. A loud groan escapes me as I come all over him. He follows me quickly with a long, drawn-out moan. I feel the warmth of his come.
“I wish you weren’t wearing a condom,” I gasp, shuddering as another wave goes through me. “I want to feel you come inside me.”
A deep shiver rocks his body, and his head comes up. We stare at each other. He looks dazed with pleasure, which makes me feel good.
“You’d want that?” he asks.
I clench around him in response.
He jerks like he’s been electrocuted. “Artie, have some pity, or I’m going to drop you on the floor.”
I frame his face in my hands. “I want to feel it running out of me.”
A wry look crosses his face. “And there’s the minx again.”
We both grunt as he slips out of me, and I wind my arms around him tight. “No, don’t go,” I whisper.
He kisses the side of my head. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers. “But it’s cold. Let me take care of you.”
“I don’t need that,” I say, looking into his eyes.
He arches one eyebrow. “Maybe I do.”
I consider that and then smile at him. “Go ahead, then,” I say magnanimously.
“Thank you so much.”
He strips off our remaining clothes and then despite my protests, he carries me up the stairs and sets me on the counter next to the newly installed bath in our en suite. The bath is enormous and easily able to take two men, and it’s set in the corner in front of a tall window looking out over the common.
“What are you doing?” I ask, kicking my legs idly.
“Running a bath.” He turns on the taps. “You’re freezing cold.”
“For both of us?”
He hesitates. I drag him closer, using my feet. When I wind my legs around him, he grunts and falls against me.
He trails his fingers down my thigh, his expression worried. “I was rough. I think you might be bruised.”
“I liked every single thing you did to me,” I tell him.
“I had no right to that caveman display. It was very petty.”
“It was actually glorious .”
He groans. “You’re supposed to be telling me off.”
I run my hands down the sides of his muscled torso, feeling the hair under my fingertips. “Why would I do that, when I loved it?” I reach in and lick up his neck, sucking on his earlobe and feeling him shudder. “I loved every single thing you did to me, and those bruises make it even hotter.”
He’s quiet, but I hope he’s listening, because I mean every word. He needs to realise that I’m not breakable.
I tug on a strand of his hair. It’s darker now, with only a few golden strands giving hints at the past summer. “Were you jealous?” I whisper, holding my breath.
He examines my face, his expression wry. “And would you like that, minx?”
I grin at him. “Maybe.”
“Really?” His lip twitches as he moves away to light the candles on the shelf. “Then maybe I was.” He narrows his eyes, and I’m pretty sure he’s about to lecture me, but then I shiver, and he shakes himself. “You’re cold.”
He checks the water and then helps me into the tub. I look at him steadily and gesture to the bath. “You, too.”
“You’re extraordinarily bossy, do you know that?” he says, but there’s a wry cast to his lips, and he slides in behind me. I rest back against him with a sigh of happiness.
We lie in contented silence for a few minutes, the room lit with the glow of the candles. It’s extraordinarily romantic, but I won’t enlighten him about the fact. He reaches forward and starts the jets, and we both sigh as they pummel us. His hands slide down my arms before he picks up one and examines my fingers. He lifts them to his mouth and kisses them with a courtly gesture that’s somehow so him. He manages to combine raunchiness with a gentleness that seems effortless and gets me every time.
Catching my expression, he rolls his eyes wryly and grabs the sponge. He pours the soap that I like onto it and runs it along my shoulders and arms, pausing occasionally to rinse me with hot water.
“Did you bathe with Mick?” I ask and put my hand on his thigh to stop him from moving away. “It’s a simple question,” I whisper. “I’d like to know something about him, Jed.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “For you. It doesn’t do you any good to keep him locked inside you. It’s not fair on him, either.” I hold my breath, and when he says nothing, I sigh. “I’m sorry,” I say immediately, feeling dreadful. “My experience of speaking my mind to Ben has obviously gone to my head. I have absolutely no right to lecture you on your own bloody grief.”
There are a few seconds of silence, and I wish I could see his face.
“You spoke your mind to Ben?” His voice sounds odd, but he holds me still when I try to turn.
“ That is what you’re focusing on?”
I feel him shrug, his skin sliding wetly against mine. “Answer the question.”
“Yes, I told him that what we had was gone.”
His hand clenches on my leg. “So, he did come to get you back?”
“Violet is his mum’s cleaner.”
“And she told them about the clause.” He puts it together as quickly as I expected him to.
“You can relax. I told him we were already together when Laura died. He believed me.”
“And he was trying to get you back? I knew it.”
Why is he focusing on that, rather than possible legal ramifications? “It actually came as a surprise to me.”
“Of course it did. You don’t see yourself.”
“And how is that?” I ask breathlessly.
He’s silent for a second. “You’re brilliant. Clever and funny and sweet as sugar with a snarky bite to you that stops you from being too sweet.”
“That’s actually the nicest thing I’ve had said to me.”
“Well, that’s just disappointing. Men should’ve been falling over you.”
“I’m not sure I’d like that. It sounds painful and ultimately very irritating.”
There’s a second’s pause, and then he bursts into laughter and drags me against him, kissing the side of my face. “Never change.”
“Well, I did change towards Ben. I told him that he was selfish in our relationship.”
After a moment, he simply says, “Good,” and takes up the sponge again.
After a few minutes, he says, “Mick didn’t like baths.” I hold my breath, unwilling to distract him. “Said he couldn’t abide lying in your own filth. He liked showers.” He chuckles. “He used to love these shower steamers with essential oils. You throw them on the floor but unfortunately, they are by nature oily, and one day I stepped in after him and fell flat on my arse. I broke my collarbone.”
I snort. “I’m so sorry.”
“Save it. He laughed, too.”
“He sounds nice,” I say when his words seem to have dried up.
“He was.” He pauses. “He was also incredibly strong-willed. He’d been on his own for too long and was also very rich, so he was used to getting his own way.”
“I bet he was surprised with you.”
“Then you’d be wrong. I was very malleable with him.”
“ You ?” His mum’s words about their relationship suddenly come to mind.
“Yes, me. He was so much older and worldly, and he lived in a part of society I didn’t know and couldn’t get used to. His friends were the same.” He runs the soap over my arms, his voice distracted. “They thought I was just his latest—something different to excite him. They couldn’t believe it when he married me.”
“I completely understand why he did.” I can imagine a young Jed, and I bet he was gorgeous.
He kisses my shoulder. “Thank you. It was a good marriage. Not always easy and definitely not what I expected.” He taps my arm and says slowly and almost reluctantly, “Remember in the future to be honest about what you want from the bloke you end up with, or you’ll have problems when the shine wears off.”
I wonder how he can say that to me at this moment. I hate imagining him with other men. He falls silent, and I can feel his body tense behind me. Is he thinking of another bloke with me?
I sag a little. He’s probably just thinking of Mick.
“Did you do that?” I ask tentatively. “Were you honest about what you needed?”
“No, I didn’t, and we were incompatible in a lot of ways.” He stops talking, and I’m just thinking the conversation is over when he speaks again. “He wanted to bring men into our bed.”
“ Really ?” I blurt loudly. I’m surprised. Jed has never struck me as the kind of man to share. He seems very possessive, but who am I to judge those things about him? He’s a stranger to me in many ways.
“The first time he invited someone, I was hurt. And that’s why I’m telling you to make yourself clear in a relationship.” He pauses and his next words are passionate. “I would hate to see you unhappy.”
Would seeing me in a relationship upset him? A short while ago, I’d have said no, but my opinions have been changing over the past weeks. I caress his hip soothingly, feeling him slowly relax under my touch.
“I’ll be clear about what I want,” I finally say. Of course, what I want is him, but it’s not the time to tell him that.
“Good. Because that way lies trouble. There’s nothing wrong with an open relationship. Lots of people do it, but it has to suit all the partners. He said he wanted to introduce new men because he didn’t want me to get bored with him.” He pauses and then says softly, “It took me a long while to realise that he was actually talking about himself getting bored.”
I twist to face him, touched by the doubt I hear in his voice. I want to reassure him and make his world right again. “I can’t imagine anyone ever getting bored with you,” I say honestly.
A smile crosses his lips. He boops me on the nose. “It’s very early days. You don’t know me.”
I’ve just had the same thought myself, but I do know a lot about him. I know that he takes responsibility for everyone and doesn’t seem to know how to turn that off. I know he’s kind, funny, and a bit geeky when it comes to music. I know he can more than physically stand up for himself, but he doesn’t like to use his strength and the power of his body in that way.
Fortunately, I don’t have to debate saying all this for long, because he stands up and grabs a towel to swaddle me in.
“Bed,” he says.
Our conversation is over, but I’m still happy we had it. He’s opened up to me and he doesn’t do that with many people. Surely that has to mean something?
“To sleep?”
He winks. “Probably not.”
“Oh good ,” I breathe.
He laughs as he follows me into the bedroom. I know I’ll be thinking about all this later when he’s asleep, but hope is already a swelling pressure in my heart.