Chapter 13
2002 - Anne-Marie
‘Y
ou’re not seriously wearing that, are you?’
Abby’s blood red lips curved into a wicked grin.
Erik had given three sharp raps on their adjoining door—‘Now you learn to knock?’ she’d asked—and the second he had opened the door and inhaled slightly, she’d known she’d made the right choice.
Her dress was perhaps slightly inappropriate for church (and yes, maybe technically it was underwear, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him ). The tiny hemline left most of the surface area of her legs bare, while the sweetheart neckline and dainty straps made of embroidered daisies exposed her chest and shoulders. Above her lipstick, razor sharp black eyeliner made her eyes look enormous.
She opened them even wider, the picture of innocence. ‘What? It’s white. That’s churchy. Pure. Virginal. All that jazz. It’s literally the Easter colour. And I am wearing stockings.’ At this, she ruched the dress up slightly so he could see the lace trim of her thigh-highs.
Erik’s jaw rolled and his hands tightened into fists in the pockets of his trousers.
Good .
‘But I could use some help with the zip. Do you mind?’ Sugar coated her words, spilling out from a sweet smile before she turned her back to him and twisted her hair into a knot that showed off her neck and the smooth, braless expanse of her back.
Another sharp intake of breath had her pressing her thighs together, desperate to relieve some of the pressure his reactions to her were producing. She’d imagined—of course she’d imagined—a world where Erik was as attracted to her as she was to him. But none of those daydreams compared to him standing behind her, fingers curled tightly around her waist, eyes dark and stormy where they met hers in the mirror, looking like he wanted to devour her.
The open back of her dress still gaping, Erik hooked a thumb into the top of her daisy-covered suspender belt. If he dropped his gaze lower, he’d see the tiny straps of her thong, matching those on her dress. A low groan told her he had, rumbling through her as he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. She arched into it with a soft whimper.
Locking eyes with her reflection again, he said gruffly, ‘Nothing about this dress is virginal.’
Abby reached behind her, wrapped his tie around her hand and tugged. ‘You’re one to talk. I can’t believe this perfectly tailored suit hasn’t got you laid at least once.’ She was certainly desperate to take it off him, already picturing herself sliding his jacket over those strong arms, fingers making quick work of the buttons of his shirt.
Although taking him from the picture of refined composure and turning that suit into a rumpled mess held its own appeal.
Erik came even closer, his body now flush with hers, and rested his hands on the dressing table, one on either side of her. It left his hips and the growing hardness between his legs pressed firmly against her. She cursed every layer of fabric between them.
‘Are you trying to punish me for being a gentleman last night?’ His voice was low and laced with desire, words separated by light presses of his lips along her back and shoulders as he finally tugged the zip up, knuckles tracing her spine.
‘I’m punishing you for getting me hot and flustered, then leaving me alone and frustrated in a cold, empty bed.’
‘I told you to play,’ he murmured into her skin, one hand ghosting over her hip.
She’d been tempted, but after the glorious moment they’d shared, she hadn’t wanted to risk marring the night with any of the negative feelings it might have borne. It seemed Erik shared none of the same qualms.
‘Did you?’ Surprise bled into her voice.
‘Well, yeah,’ Erik said. His face was sheepish where he met hers in the mirror. ‘Is that a problem?’
It wasn’t. Truly. The image that shot through her mind was extremely pleasing: Erik, naked, so desperate for her that he had to touch himself, moaning her name as he did.
But she couldn’t help wondering how they’d gone through an almost identical upbringing, with the same schooling, the same classes telling them that exploring their bodies was shameful and sinful, and he’d come out unscathed.
Maybe he could help her finally heal from it all.
‘No,’ she breathed, arching her body slightly to move against him.
Erik’s hand squeezed her once before she turned to face him, eyes flicking down to his trousers. He’d looked delicious in joggers, but didn’t everyone? The strain against the stiff, fitted fabric of his suit was even more impressive.
‘But you might need to do it again before we go downstairs, since you won’t let me take care of it for you.’
In the end, Erik simply insisted on walking down to breakfast in front of her (‘So I don’t have to watch your body move in this unbelievable dress,’ he had breathed into her neck), his jacket draped casually over one arm in a way that obscured his thighs.
He tucked his chair deep under the breakfast table, which hid his body sufficiently but also hid Abby’s hand when she rested it on his leg each time she spoke to him.
‘Mercy. Please,’ he whispered in her ear after the fourth time.
Abby smiled smugly, but relented.
After breakfast, Erik begged her to drive to the church with her parents. ‘I need twenty minutes away from you to get my body under control.’
It clearly didn’t work, as Abby noted the open hymn book on Erik’s lap when she slid into the pew next to him.
‘It’s not the first time you’ve tortured me,’ he muttered. ‘I had to learn to take evasive measures.’
‘Shall we head back to the hotel for a game of tennis before lunch then?’ Nora said cheerily as they exited the church.
Erik cleared his throat softly. ‘Actually, Abby and I were thinking of going down to the pub for lunch. We haven’t had a chance to properly catch up yet.’
The gang of parents surrounding them exchanged knowing looks that they clearly thought were terribly inconspicuous, and it was decided that they would all drive back in one car, leaving Erik and Abby with his parents’ car. This was accompanied by a lengthy lecture from Peter about looking after the old girl, which Erik endured for a full two minutes before gently reminding him that he had, in fact, driven the very same car plenty when he was much younger and less responsible. For trips around their small town, Peter had allowed him to drive it for a full year before he’d even passed his test.
‘It’s weird,’ Abby said as they navigated the twisty roads down to the pub. Erik steered effortlessly with one hand, the other stroking her knee between gear changes. ‘Seeing you with them now. You’re like a real person.’
He gave her a wry sideways glance. ‘As opposed to…a stuffed olive?’
‘You know what I mean,’ she said, swatting his arm lightly. ‘You were this really good kid who always listened to everything his parents told him. Now you stand your ground, tell them what you think. It’s just nice seeing you be assertive and standing up for yourself.
Unspoken words hung in the air between them. How she wished she could do the same with her parents. It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried, but she’d learned to pick her battles. They would never listen to her. No point exhausting and upsetting herself trying to make it happen.
Erik squeezed her leg as they approached the pub, a sympathetic look in his eyes. He by-passed the small parking lot, stopping instead in the space reserved for takeaways.
It was as close as this tiny seaside town would ever get to a drive-through, Abby mused as a skinny teenager appeared at their window to take their order.
Fifteen minutes later, she held a large brown bag filled with greasy cheese toasties and a mound of chips, and they were driving to a quiet spot further along the coast, where they could watch waves crash against rocks while they ate. She assumed Erik had chosen it for privacy as much as nostalgia: in the years their families had picnicked here on holidays, they had never seen another soul.
They ate mostly in comfortable silence. Abby had kicked her shoes off and curled her legs up onto the bench seat, nuzzling into Erik’s side as she did so. It exposed even more thigh, and his hand dropped to claim an expanse of skin, his thumb stroking while he alternated bites of his sandwich and feeding her chips.
It shouldn’t have surprised her, how quickly the tone of their absent-minded touching had turned romantic. Sarah was right: it had never been entirely platonic to start. Erik’s large hand curled around her leg just felt…right. As if it was something they’d always done.
Heavy rain was falling by the time they finished eating, and the temperature inside the car had plummeted. Erik rummaged in the backseat for a moment before unearthing a ridiculously fluffy blanket. He tucked it around them, pulling Abby even closer as he did.
‘I told you about New Year’s last night,’ he said into her hair. ‘Now I think it’s your turn to tell me a story, Sunshine.’
She thought for a moment, racking her brain for a secret she had never told him. There was an obvious option. She hadn’t planned to tell him until it was done, but she hadn’t exactly planned on everything that had happened between them the previous night either.
‘Promise not to laugh?’
Erik crossed his heart, all solemnity.
‘All those romance novels aren’t research for my thesis.’
He opened his mouth, and she cut him off with a wave of her fingers before he could comment.
‘They are research. And I am using them for my thesis, at least in part. But they’re also for a more personal project.’
Erik’s lips curved against her hairline and again she continued before he could say anything.
‘Not like that, you pervy shit.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m writing a romance novel. It started as a stress release exercise. I’ve always loved the idea of writing, and I wanted to create one thing that wouldn’t be graded. Something that was for me.’
It wasn’t the full story, but there was truth to it. Writing a romance novel had been a dream since she was fifteen and borrowing her first steamy stepbacks from the library. But until her breakup with Sam—until she had once again confronted her feelings for Erik—she hadn’t been able to find her inspiration.
‘And I know it’s silly and frivolous and—’
‘It’s not,’ Erik said, so firmly that Abby looked up at him. His eyes were stormy again, so fierce and determined that it knocked the breath out of her. ‘Don’t shit on the stuff that makes you happy. With anyone, but especially not with me. Ever. Are we clear on that, Sunshine?’
She nodded slowly, awestruck by his intensity.
Erik’s face softened slightly before he went on. ‘If you love it, it’s not silly. And I’ve read everything you’ve ever written. Everything else, I guess. You’re so smart , Abby. Smart and funny and sensitive even when you were writing a boring, pointless school essay. You can’t do frivolous. I bet it’s amazing.’
Her lips quirked up. It felt good to have someone believe in her. It felt good to have him believe in her.
‘Tell me about it?’ His voice was achingly tender.
She squirmed as she thought about the last scene she’d worked on. After Erik had left her room the night before, she’d considered writing a productive way to burn through the excess of feeling within her. She had opened the document to find herself in the midst of a passionate confession, with the hero trying desperately to convince his female counterpart of his feelings.
Time had escaped her as she had written, weaving metaphors and flowery imagery to wear down her slightly prickly heroine until even she couldn’t deny that his feelings were bold, immense, and—crucially—matched her own. The feelings she had never dreamed would be reciprocated. Emotional revelations taken care of, her own mood had sent them towards the bed. She’d been delaying writing or even planning the inevitable sex scene, sure it would be an uncomfortable confrontation of her own intimacy issues, but it had flowed easily, the love and passion between her main characters segueing easily into an explosive tryst.
She’d left them in their post-coital bliss, content with their story arc for now. Abby had sent the couple through the emotional ringer, and seeing them get their happy ending filled her with satisfaction. It was a short draft—nowhere close to a full novel—but it had solid bones, and the story could enjoy room to breathe before she returned to it.
Erik’s fingers trailing over her neck brought her back to the present and she slowly started unravelling her narrative. In many ways, it was a coming of age story: a young heroine figuring out who she was and learning to accept herself in a world that threatened to keep her caged. A girl who refused to walk the path her parents had chosen for her, leaving them behind as she followed her dreams and fought for what she believed in. But most of all, it was a love story. The tapestry she wove began with childhood friends. Pure white threads of innocence and first love became grey and confusing. Messy patches woven in the deep green of jealousy were slashed through with the red of heartbreak. And in the end, the colours twisted together to form a thick, golden string conveying a love borne from the deep, comfortable foundation of friendship.
Abby had avoided his face while she spoke, and finally looked up sheepishly when she finished her speech. She’d never pretended, even to herself, that it was subtle.
Erik caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding her firmly in place to keep their eyes locked. His voice was slightly choked as he said, ‘And these characters, they’re just entirely made up, obviously. Not at all based on anyone you might know.’
Warmth crept up her cheeks. It seemed enough of an admission for him as Erik stroked the blush absently, her favourite little smile making an appearance below his beautiful eyes, filled with tender emotion.
‘I want to read it.’
‘It’s not finished. It’s barely a story, nevermind a book.’ And I’ve already basically admitted it’s about how much I love you, but there’s no way I’ll be able to deny it once you’ve read it.
‘Whatever you have. Please?’
And…Abby had never been able to say no to that voice. A minute and a few taps on her phone later, and her messy first draft was speeding into Erik’s inbox.
Despite their closeness, despite the fact that he knew her inside and out, it felt more vulnerable sharing that one little document than it had when he’d seen her half naked that morning. No one had read it. Only her former therapist even knew it existed.
Erik smiled when his phone buzzed, promising to start reading it later as he pulled her onto his lap and brought his face close to hers.
‘What happened to dinner?’ Her voice, barely a whisper, still felt too loud in the stillness of the car.
‘I couldn’t wait,’ Erik said, closing the gap between them.
It could have been ten seconds or several hours later when a clap of thunder startled them apart. Abby found herself straddling Erik and saying a silent, thankful prayer to the people who had made old cards so spacious.
They stared at each other for a single, wonder-filled moment before Abby burst into peals of giggles. Erik chuckled in response, rubbing his face in a way she was becoming increasingly addicted to.
‘Look at me,’ he moaned. ‘Making out with my girl in my dad’s car like a horny teenager.’
It took every ounce of restraint she possessed to let a small smile be Abby’s only response to his words. The idea of being his was almost too good to bear.
‘Shit. I mean— Not my —’
Abby pushed a finger gently to his lips, stopping his panicked rambling. ‘Your girl wasn’t complaining,’ she whispered, leaning down to kiss him again.
Erik crushed her torso to his and rolled his hips up, moaning into her mouth when they connected. She gasped at the feel of him, the thin mesh of her underwear offering no protection between them. She wondered if he could feel how wet she was through his clothes. The way he whimpered her name made her think he could.
Erik finally pulled away, panting hard. ‘I have no self-control around you.’
‘We’re still clothed,’ Abby pointed out, though she was pouting at that reality. ‘You haven’t lost control entirely.’
‘Only because the first time I have sex with you is not going to be in my parents’ car. I can keep a handle on myself as long as I keep that in mind, at least.’
The first time .
Those words and the suggestion of more had her burrowing her nose into Erik’s neck to hide the happy smile that felt permanently etched into her skin.
When Erik sighed and slowly removed his hands from her back, she instantly missed the warmth and pressure.
‘We should get back to the hotel. It’s probably not safe for you to be alone with me somewhere this secluded. No one around to hear you scream and all.’
‘Good to know you’re planning to make me scream,’ Abby murmured, rolling her hips against his once more.
‘Off, vixen,’ Erik groaned, nudging her inner thigh lightly.