Chapter 28 #2
What I don’t say is how life-affirming, how right, it feels to have Zach needing me—or, more accurately, to feel like I’m helping him. Do I have some kind of saviour complex? Or do I feel like this because I genuinely care about him? Both prospects are equally alarming.
He raises his head and buries his nose in the crook of my neck. ‘Mmm,’ he groans. ‘You smell amazing, and you feel so… alive.’
I laugh weakly. ‘I’d say that bar’s pretty low.
There are at least seven billion other people who could oblige you on that front.
’ But I can imagine what he means. I’m young and pretty energetic—I suppose if I were him, and my wife had been diagnosed as terminally ill and dropped dead pretty much out of nowhere, I’d find youth and energy pretty appealing in a person.
In a woman.
‘I’d put money on none of them feeling as good as you,’ he murmurs against my skin. His hand roams down and cups my bum. ‘Bloody hell,’ he says. He squeezes my entire cheek hard. ‘I’ve just realised what you’re wearing.’
‘You must have been seriously sleep deprived if you didn’t notice these before,’ I joke.
‘Seriously.’ He’s definitely making up for lost time, copping a pretty good feel down there. ‘Aren’t these a bit kinky for work? Not that I’m complaining.’
‘You’re so old. They’re super fashionable. And they’re Balenciaga.’
I don’t for a second think Zach cares about whether my leggings are Balenciaga at the best of times, and certainly not this morning, but maybe he needs some normality.
And normality from me usually comes in the form of vacuous fashion-focused commentary. So.
He inhales against the skin of my neck again. ‘Well, they’re very sexy.’ The words come on a deep sigh of exhaustion and despair and God knows what else.
I rake my fingers through his thick hair slowly, thoroughly, enjoying far too much the sensation of his hand burrowing under my sweater to the bare skin of my lower back, and of his nose, his lips, pressed against my neck.
‘Is there anything that helps?’ I ask him. ‘Anything at all?’
His voice is barely audible against my skin. ‘This. You.’ He tightens his hold on me and I lie there, enveloped by him and wondering out of nowhere what spending a night together like this would be like. Wrapped up in each other, but without the clothes, obviously.
We lie there for a few minutes until he lowers his head onto the pillow, planting a soft kiss on my lips.
‘You didn’t sign up for this,’ he murmurs. ‘You signed up for lots of orgasms, not me dumping on you.’
‘I signed up for making you feel better,’ I tell him, ‘and if that includes this, then I’m grateful I can help.’
‘I’m not treating you well,’ he argues.
I pull my face away enough to see him properly. ‘Bollocks to that. What gave you that idea? Did you not see me on the floor of the shower yesterday?’
He frowns. ‘I mean this isn’t a great setup for you. It’s all on my terms. I should be looking after you better—I’m not that guy who rams his cock down a woman’s throat before he’s made her come. I’ve never, ever been that guy, except with you it seems I am.’
‘Hey.’ I still my hand. ‘I know you’re not. But you don’t do that with me because you’re damaged—you do it because it’s hot. It gets us both off when you dominate me, and you know it.’
God, his blue eyes are killing me. ‘I know,’ he says. ‘It’s just one more thing that makes me feel shitty. I’d like to be in a position to look after you better.’
Okay. I have some things to say, and he needs to hear them. I pull myself up onto one elbow and look down at him.
‘First, I don’t need to be looked after.
I’m in a good place. And second, you have one job, and that’s looking after your daughters.
Honestly, don’t go inventing work for yourself, because that’s a big one.
And no one’s looking after your needs, so if I get to do that in any tiny way, even if it’s just by making you come whenever I get the chance, then I’m delighted. ’
He looks up at me, his mouth twisting in a joyless smile. ‘You’re an angel.’
That makes me laugh. ‘No one has ever called me that. And I’m not. I’m doing this for me as much as for you.’
‘I do have people looking after my needs, you know,’ he says. ‘The guys upstairs, and our families and friends, and our nanny.’
‘I’m sure they help, and I’m sure they care very much about you.
But keeping your girls from losing the plot with grief falls to you, and that’s a heavy burden, matey.
So, for the love of God, please stop worrying about me and everyone else and just worry about yourself and the girls.
I’m a big girl—I can look after myself.’
He takes my hand and lifts it to his lips. ‘Thank you.’
I nod briskly. ‘You’re welcome. Is there anything I can do—outside of the bedroom, I mean? Is there anything else that makes the girls feel any better?’
‘Distraction.’ He gives a weak shrug, still holding my hand.
‘I know they have to face their trauma, and all that crap, but honestly, distraction is the best and easiest method. I try to surround them with people and activities that are full of joy and light so they know life isn’t all darkness and tragedy. ’
‘That makes sense,’ I say. I mean, it does. As long as they’re not bottling it all in, it makes sense that he wants to remind them that being alive, being human, is a wonderful thing.
‘Speaking of light, they talk about you a lot.’
I can’t help it. I beam at him. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yep. All the time. They ask me when they can see you again.’ He releases my hand and burrows back under my sweater, stroking my stomach this time. ‘You made quite an impression—or rather your makeup bag did.’
I smile smugly. ‘It is pretty epic. And I liked my girls’ night with them. Belle and I can do one another time, if they want.’
‘Honestly, they’d love that. Belle and Rafe are coming over on Thursday for pizza night—we have a pizza oven in the garden.’ He brushes his knuckles over my stomach, and I shiver. ‘Would you like to join us?’
I narrow my eyes at him as I try to work out his angle here. ‘As your… friend, I assume?’
‘Yeah,’ he says hurriedly.
‘Got it.’ I’m not sure why I feel so emotional at the thought of Zach inviting me round to his home, and of spending a cosy evening with him, his kids and the very loved-up Belle and Rafe, even if I’m going as his ‘friend’. ‘I love pizza,’ I manage. ‘Count me in.’
‘Thank you,’ he says, letting his eyes drift closed for a second. I marvel at how deep and dark those shadows look beneath his eyelashes.
‘You should stay here and get some sleep,’ I say, allowing myself to brush my knuckles over his cheek.
‘Mmm,’ he murmurs. ‘Maybe I will.’
I reluctantly extricate myself from his embrace and lay a throw over him. I think he’s asleep before I even close the door behind me.