Chapter 9 Amber
Amber
Watching Bas laugh earlier on the bank of the lake—at my expense, I may add—was the highlight of this trip to Holland so far.
Not that this is really a ‘trip’, but whatever.
I have never seen him laugh like that. He’s gorgeous every minute of the day, but smiling and laughing like that really makes it impossible to remember why I shouldn’t fall for him.
As I try to peel myself out of these soaked jeans, I realise I’m smiling, thinking about him laughing.
How he tickled me. Having his big hands on me—even to tickle me—is heaven.
And walking back in each other's arms was everything I ever dreamed it would be. I love how petite he makes me feel and how my entire body comes alive in his presence. I wish so desperately that things could be different. It feels like a physical ache in the pit of my stomach that I can’t have him.
“Bell?” Bas calls from his bedroom.
“Yeah?” I shout at the door between us.
“What size shoe are you?”
“A UK size six. Why?” I frown.
“Okay, I’ll check through Sanne’s shoes here and see if she has anything that you could use in case you should need them. Yours could take a few days to dry out.”
“Thank you!”
I wonder if I need to order anything for my time here.
I’ve no idea just how long I’ll be here, how long my life has to be on hold and is potentially in danger.
I need to speak to Dad again today, even though he embarrassed the shit out of me yesterday, talking to Bas like I was a teenage girl, not a fully grown adult.
I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
I need to know if they are any closer to ending whatever this is so that I can go back to my life.
If not, I’m hopping on and ordering pajama’s, boots, trainers, socks and a whole host of other things I forgot. Holland has , right?
Why does it feel like someone has suctioned these sodding jeans onto my bloody legs?
“URGGHHHH!” I shout as I sit on the floor with my jeans down to my thighs, kicking my legs like a goddamn toddler.
“Amber?” Bas calls through the door again.
“I’m fine, I just can't get my bloody jeans off! That lake water is like glue!”
I just hear his laughter get further and further away.
“Bastard!” I call after him with no malice in my voice whatsoever.
After what feels like a hundred years, I manage to get them off, thank goodness.
Note to self: never get jeans soaked while wearing them again.
I throw the rest of my clothes into a pile with my jeans and Bas’s hoodie and walk into his extremely impressive shower.
As the hot water hits me, I let out a sigh and close my eyes.
Like his bathtub, this is heavenly. After I’ve wet my hair, I realise my toiletries are in the bloody bedroom.
Bugger. I eye Bas’ hair and body products in the built-in shelf.
Would he even notice if I used them? He wouldn’t mind.
I grab his shampoo—well, I think it’s shampoo—but it's all in Dutch, so I have to make a very uneducated guess. I dump a load into my hand and soap up my hair, and it’s at this point that I realise I haven’t brought any of my hair products with me from home.
Shit. It will end up super frizzy and out of control.
I’ll end up looking like a blonde Ronald McDonald.
Great. Suuuper sexy. Well, at least this shampoo is nice, it smells so good, like high-end salon products.
After I’ve rinsed out all the bubbles, I apply conditioner, finger-comb it, and then leave it to work its magic while I begin to wash myself.
Oh my God, his shower gel smells divine.
Like citrusy, but clean, with a hint of sandalwood.
I use way too much and take too much pleasure in knowing his shower gel is all over my body.
As I wash myself, I start thinking about Bas being in here again, and I my body begins to heat up.
I become very aware of my breasts, the weight of them and how good it feels squeezing them lightly…
but no, I have to stop thinking like this.
Urghhh. I just don’t have time for this, as I need to speak to Dad and find out if there’s any progress.
Plus, I need to check in with Jess today.
I get out of the shower, unhappy that I didn’t have time to scratch the itch that thinking about naked Bas always leaves me with.
But maybe I’ll make myself come in his bed tonight.
Yummy. I quickly dry myself off and walk into his bedroom, where I find he’s left out some stripy pajama trousers and a clean t-shirt for me.
I drop the towel I had wrapped around myself and lift his clothes to my face and breathe deeply.
I love the smell of him. It makes me feel calm, which I can’t explain, but it does.
It fills me with a sense of peace that I yearn for more and more, but I know I’ll never be able to keep it permanently.
“Oh my God, Jess! You did not meet up with Mr Wears-a-Suit-to-the-Pub!” I screech, laughing so much I snort.
“You bet your bum I did! I was bored… there was nothing else to do,” she whines at me.
“So, you thought you’d ‘do’ him? That picture he sent you is still scarring my retinas, by the way.”
“I know, but he turned up not wearing a suit, and he very much knows what to do with his dick. FYI, he’s a grower, not a shower.”
“I really did not need to know that, Jess!” Bas enters the chat.
“Sorry, I’ve got you on loudspeaker while I oil my hair, and Bas just walked into the bedroom,” I explain, giggling as I watch him screw up his face.
“Bedroom? That was quicker than I thought it would be. Hey B-man! How’s it going with the unexpected house guest?” Jess asks.
“Fine. Except she forgot almost everything she needs, so she’s wearing my pajama trousers, which, when not rolled up, cover her feet, and she’s using my hair oil. Otherwise, fine,” he says, smiling.
“You oil your hair, like a girl?”
“Hey! I’ve got wavy hair, I learnt the hard way that I need to look after it,” Bas explains, flexing his biceps to defend his manliness, making me roll my eyes at him.
“Imagine if you’d run away with Ben from WP Jones’. He’s bald, you’d be fucked for hair care items, Bell,” Jess laughs.
“First of all, I didn’t run away with Bas; I went on the run with him. Two very different things,” I explain. “I wouldn’t have been able to use his shampoo and conditioner like I just did Bas’ either,” I giggle, peeking up at him.
“I knew it! I could smell it. Anything else you want to borrow? I mean, you just help yourself anyway.”
“Now now, children. Let’s not argue. I’m going to leave you two to your lovers’ tiff.
Glad you are okay, Bell. I’ll pass everything on to Bea and Lauren for you.
FYI, Bea was NOT okay when I explained what was happening, but when she knew you were with Bas, she calmed a little.
Keep in touch. Gotta go. Love you, babe,” Jess says and ends her call before I can reply.
Laughing as I think about Jess and her antics, I finish off oiling my hair, because I really don’t want to be Ms Fuzzy Fuzzball around Bas.
“She’s got a way about her, that girl,” Bas laughs, filling the silence.
“I’m sorry I used your stuff; I was in a rush and mine was in here. I’ll buy you refills of everything, I promise. But I actually blame you for having a bathroom that big. It’s the size of my living room at home. If I were at home, I could have gotten my toiletries in about three steps.”
“Bigger is always better, right? And there is no need to buy me refills, it's no big deal. Please just use what you need,” he replies before he leaves the room, leaving me hoping he doesn’t read too much into Jess’ words.
I finish pinning up my hair because Bas may have lush shampoo, conditioner, and hair oil, but he doesn’t have a hair dryer.
I look in the mirror and have to laugh. I look absolutely ridiculous.
I’ve rolled up his pyjama trousers about six times, so they are at my ankles, and I’ve used a hair tie to try to cinch the waist in.
And I could wear his t-shirt as a dress, it’s that long.
I’m not wearing any underwear again because, one, I’m pretty sure he noticed this morning that I was bare under his t-shirt, so I want to test that theory—and his restraint—again, and two, I like knowing it's his clothes rubbing against me in all the best places.
I smooth out the bed where I’d sat on it, grab the pile of clothes from the bathroom and go in search of a washing machine.
“Bas?”
“Yeah?” He shouts from somewhere above me, making me frown and look up.
“Where are you?”
“I’ll be down in a sec,” he tells me, making me want to know what’s up there. Stupidly, I hadn’t even considered an upstairs, but of course there’s one. It’s a bloody windmill.
I walk into the kitchen and start to open every cupboard door under the countertop to see if it’s a built-in washing machine, but as I open the last one, my search comes up empty.
He must have it in a separate room somewhere.
I decide to make a cuppa while I wait for him, as I don’t want to go snooping around his home.
I mean, I do, I really really do, but I have to show some self-control.
It took everything in me last night not to open his bedside drawers; I had to literally lie on my hands at one point.
I’d love to know what he keeps in his drawers.
It’s probably different to the contents of mine; lip balm, hair ties, cotton pads, Q-tips, nail files, and a purple curved, G-spot Rampant Rabbit vibrator.
“And what has caused your cheeks to heat like that, Little Miss Bell?”
“Bastiaan! You scared me half to death. Again. I swear you enjoy doing it,” I scold him.
“No swerving the question. Why are you all red? Even your ears are glowing.”
“None of your beeswax,” I tell him, and poke out my tongue in an exceptionally mature way.
“Come on, Bell, spill,” he demands. He’s lended back against the sink, arms crossed over his chest, with that smile on his face, dimple and all. My God, he’s so sexy.
“No. Where is your washing machine, please?” I ask, willing my red face and ears to bugger off.
“Na-ah. What’s causing the redness, and why won't you tell me?” He starts to get closer and closer, backing me up.
“Don’t you even think about tickling me again, I almost died last time!”
“Died? You are so fucking adorable.”
Bas calling me that stops me dead. He thinks I’m adorable. He called me beautiful yesterday, too.
We just stand smiling at each other, like we are rooted to the ground.
Just fixed in place, and all we can do is look at each other.
My chest is rising and falling as I try to take in enough air, and the butterflies that have lived in my stomach since I first met this gorgeous Dutchman take flight, making me feel almost giddy.
One minute we are looking into each other's eyes, his pale blue to my dark blue, and the next he slides his hand around the nape of my neck to pull me to him, and his lips are on mine. My eyes drift closed as I savour this moment. A moment I’ve dreamed about, fantasised about.
The kiss starts out soft, and I place my hands on his chest, feeling the warm, solid wall of muscle before I skim my hands down over his equally hard stomach muscles and around his sides to grip his back.
I feel his lips part and his tongue lick gently at my lower lip, making me instantly open my mouth for him.
We gently swirl our tongues together, and he moves his hands to my lower back, gripping into my flesh.
Pulling me deep into his body, he clutches me tightly, and I can’t help but let out a moan as I feel his hard dick press into my stomach.
Holy fuck, his dick is big. He grabs my arse cheeks and hoists me up onto the kitchen island without breaking our kiss, which is beginning to get out of control.
He slides me to the edge of the countertop and presses against me hard.
I moan again as his denim-covered cock feels incredible, especially as I only have a fragile layer of cotton covering me.
As I begin sucking on his tongue, I hear a noise that sounds so out of place here in my passion-filled fog, but it just disappears into heavenly silence once again. The only noise is the smacking of lips as we kiss and fabric rubbing against fabric.
The noise starts again, and Bas pulls away suddenly as a shot of cold air hits my overheated body where he was pressed just seconds ago. I blink up at him, panting, my gaze fixed on his swollen lips, when the sound finally registers.
“My phone…”
I jump off the side and run to the bedroom where I left it plugged in, charging.
“Hello?” I pant as I sit on the bed.
“Amber? Why didn’t you fuckin’ answer?”
“Dad, sorry, I was in the bathroom,” I lie through my teeth.
“You haven’t checked in this afternoon, what’s been going on?” Dad almost barks at me.
“Not much, I can’t exactly go and explore, can I?”
“No need for the attitude, babygirl, I’m doing my best here. I wanted to apologise for you know… how our conversation went last time,” he says like this physically pains him. He’s never been good with apologies, or words, really.
“I think you forget that I’m a grown-up sometimes, Dad. I run a business, a home, and I do them well. As much as you hate to think of me as grown up, I am, and I have been for a while,” I murmur softly to him, very aware that Bas is hovering at the door watching me.
“I know. It’s hard for me, but I’m tryin’. When you have kids, you’ll understand. Christ, that’d make me a fuckin’ grandad.”
“Ha! Well, don’t worry about that, I have no plans on ruining your reputation with the ‘sweetbutts’ anytime soon,” I smile down at my lap.
“They love me, grandkids or not. Anyway, I gotta go and try and sort this shit so you can get back home. Love you, Amber,” he whispers the last part.
“Love you too, Dad.”
I sit and stare at the phone for a few seconds to gather my thoughts before I look up at Bas, who looks so beautiful it makes my insides ache.
“Are you hungry? I’ll put dinner on,” he says quietly as he backs out of the room without waiting for a reply before he disappears.
Fuck. What now?