Barely Yours Read online

  Chrissie reaches up to kiss him on the cheek as he leaves, and Bruce looks smug, like the cat that got the cream.

  Get out of my house! I want to scream at my best friend – the man who’s been there for me through everything. What the hell is wrong with me? I must be going out of my damn mind.

  Bruce lets himself out and the door shuts decisively behind him. And once we’re alone in the hall, Chrissie looks up at me, perhaps a little unsure about what to do or say next.

  “Good date, then?” I offer, trying not to let any emotion show.

  “Yes,” she nods coldly. “We had a great time, actually.”

  “He’s a player, you know,” I warn. “He’s always got four or five women on the go, sometimes more. He’ll just hurt you in the end.”

  “Why do you care?” she snaps back, her voice brimming with anger now. “What is it to you?”

  “You spend all day with my daughter,” I say through gritted teeth trying to remain cool. “If you’re unhappy, she’s going to pick up on that and she’ll be unhappy too. I can’t have that.”

  My words enrage her. Her eyes blaze, and she drops her bag at her feet, then takes a step closer to me, launching into a tirade of abuse, practically shouting now.

  “I’m not just a nanny, you know. I’m not just some fucking robot. I’m a human being and I deserve my own life. I deserve to go out. I deserve to be happy. You can’t just keep me cooped up in that flat, working all day and hiding from you all night, pretending that I don’t exist, pretending that what happened between us didn’t happen.”

  She takes another step forward, so close in fact that I can smell her perfume and see, up close, the fire blazing in her beautiful green eyes.

  “Because what did happen the other night, Will?” she continues. “You’ve just blanked me ever since, and I’m starting to think that I dreamt the whole thing up, that nothing happened, that I’m going out of my fucking mind.”

  Her passion consumes me, and all the reserve I’ve been holding onto for dear life breaks within me. I just can’t keep my feelings in check any longer. I can’t deny what I feel for this girl.

  “It happened, Chrissie,” I say, pleadingly, imploringly. “You’re not crazy. It happened and I’m scared. Because I want you so damn much, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  And then there are no more words. She puts her mouth on mine and wraps her arms around my neck, melting into me, and I feel a week’s worth of pent up desire burst free as we kiss.

  I’m completely overwhelmed by the kiss, even though it’s totally my fault. I’m the one who went for it. But was that even me? I mean, seriously, I have no idea what’s even happening right now. All I know is that I am desperate to feel him against me, and that wild horses couldn’t drag me away from this kiss.

  He pulls away from me just long enough to fix me in his eyes and issue the command, “Upstairs, now.”

  And it’s then that it dawns on me that we’re in the hallway, and that Tabby or any of the other staff could find us here, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  Wordlessly I do as he says, as he leads me up one flight of stairs then another. I half expect him to take me up another flight, too – to my apartment. But instead we stop on this floor and he takes me through to what must be his bedroom. It’s clearly the master bedroom – enormous and with a huge super king sized bed, which we quickly fall onto.

  In a heartbeat he’s over me, kissing me, that broad muscular body covering mine completely. But unlike last time, there’s a slowness this evening, too. Sure, it’s still hot and urgent, but it’s also like he wants to take his time, wants to really slow down and savour this moment – which is totally and utterly fine by me!

  I shiver and sigh, lying there beneath him as his sensual kisses move to my neck while his hands move to my body, uncovering me, undressing me – slowly but surely, each move so fluid, so confident. First the unbuttoning of my blouse. Then the unzipping of my jeans. Then the way he pulls them – along with my panties – so easily down my thighs, quickly covering my bare tingling flesh beneath with a series of light kisses.

  Before I know it, my whole lower half is totally naked, and normally I’d be kinda embarrassed about this – especially when there’s a guy’s head right there between my legs – but tonight? With Will? Well, it just feels so natural.

  As his kisses begin to tease the insides of my thighs, working closer and closer to the center, I spread my legs wider for him, aching for him, bucking my hips, eager to feel his lips touch against my most private, sensitive place. And when his tongue finally laps against my clit, so slowly, so gently, I let out a long, low moan, my whole body coursing with pleasure.

  Before long, I’m writhing and gasping, the flashes of pleasure shooting through my body, as Will licks and laps and nibbles and sucks, each fresh movement of his tongue seeming to double the pleasure that’s flashing around my body. And when I realize that I’m actually close to coming, I can’t quite believe it. Nobody’s ever made me come – period – but let alone just with their mouth.

  I wind my fingers tight into his thick luscious hair, my senses filled with the delicious scent of his cologne, bracing myself as, a moment later, my whole body starts to shudder and buck, my thighs clamping tight around his head and a long moan escaping my lips even though I’m trying my hardest to keep quiet – the way I do whenever I come on my own. And speaking of that, this is way way more intense than anything I’m normally used to; so much so that for a moment I even feel like I’m about to pass out.

  “Oh my god,” I say with a trembling whisper, once I’ve finally floated back down to earth.

  “Glad to be of service,” Will grins back at me, still there between my legs, still in all his clothes, his perfect hair now a little mussed up, but otherwise still the total picture of an English gent. An English gent who just did that to me.

  “Come back here,” I say, pulling his face back towards mine, pulling him up and over me.

  When I kiss him, I can taste my own sweetness on his tongue, and once again I feel my body charge with desire and adrenaline, still so hungry for him – still needing so much more.

  Again Will starts to undress me, focussing now on the few remaining clothes on my upper half, my blouse and bra.

  “Hey, no fair,” I giggle, once I’m totally naked there on the sheets beneath him and he’s still in his suit.

  “How very rude of me,” he grins back, pushing himself up off me, hurriedly slipping off his own clothes.

  Which is when I realize I’ve still not seen his naked body. I lie on the bed, resting on my elbows, still feeling so comfortable even though I’m totally naked, and I feel the excitement grow inside me as I watch Will uncover more and more of what turns out to be a totally gorgeous body.

  I’d kind of guessed he might be in good shape – he certainly felt that way – but holy hell! He’s so toned it’s crazy, and his lean yet muscular figure tells me he must have put that home gym to plenty of use.

  Pretty soon, he’s only wearing his silk boxers, and I feel my hungry gaze fixing on him there as he casually slides them down over his muscular thighs. Okay, so as you can probably guess, I’m still not that experienced when it comes to things like this, but ... wow. He’s definitely the biggest in that department I’ve ever seen before. By a mile. A little part of me even wonders whether he’ll be able to fit him inside me. But even as I’m thinking it, I can feel this deep ache, there between my legs. I’ve never been wetter or more ready in my life.

  He turns away for a moment, taking a package from a dresser drawer, and when he turns back to climb onto the bed, I realize he’s fitted a condom over that amazingly gorgeous cock of his.

  Soon he’s back on top of me, our mouths crushed together in a kiss, my hard, tingling nipples grazing against his broad muscular chest, his hands cupping my face, the tempting heat of his cock brushing against the insides of my thighs.

  For a moment we pause, locking eyes, and I shiver with pleasure at j
ust how right this feels.

  “Are you okay?” he murmurs tenderly, perhaps sensing that I’m not as experienced as him, and obviously wanting to check I’m as into this as he is.

  “Don’t worry, I’m having a wonderful time,” I grin, pulling him back towards me in a hungry kiss, spreading my legs wide beneath him, my mouth and my body telling him everything he needs to know.

  I feel him reach down and guide himself between my legs, the hot hard head of his cock pressing against my opening for a moment, and then I feel my body yielding as he slips inside me, filling me, stretching me wide, pushing so deep inside me. Fuck! I’ve never felt like this before.

  I groan with pleasure, closing my eyes, as Will begins to rock his hips, taking me slowly yet urgently, each movement of his body increasing the pleasure inside me. Soon, I’m writhing and shivering again, knowing a second orgasm isn’t far away.

  I rake my fingers over the delicious broadness of his back, gasping as he reaches between my legs and begins to tease my clit with his thumb too, all the while filling me with his hot thick hardness.

  With a final shudder, I’m coming hard – again! – my mind flashing white, blinded with pleasure, my body spasming beneath him, every nerve aflame with my excitement. And with a low cry, I feel Will tense and stiffen, then he comes too, and I throw my arms tight around him, crushing my mouth against his in one last hungry kiss as we both tremble with pleasure.

  But once the kiss is over, once we’re both lying back on the sheets to catch our breath, I feel the real world come crashing in again.

  Because deep down, I know I can’t stay here. I know that for sure. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to leave. This feels so good, so right, so natural, but even so: I’m not stupid. I know that Will doesn’t want me to stay the night, no matter what we just did. Any second now, he’s gonna ask me to leave and I just can’t bear that. The thought of him having to ask me to get out of here, of him sending me away is just too much.

  I realize I’ve gottta be strong and take control on this one. So I wrench myself out of his arms, out of the sheets, and begin to find my scattered clothes and put them back on.

  “You’re going,” he says, not like a question but like a statement of fact. Because we both know it’s the thing that has to happen.

  “Tabby,” I whisper gently. “I don’t want to confuse her. I don’t want her to wake up and find us here.”

  He nods in silent understanding, and I hope that Tabby is the real reason why he doesn’t want me staying here in his bed. Because now we’ve done it, now we’ve fucked, now he’s got what he wants what if it if he wants nothing more to do with me?

  “Excuse me,” he mouths, lifting himself out of bed and disappearing into the en-suite bathroom.

  I wonder whether he’s hiding from me to escape the awkwardness that’s suddenly appeared in the room. Or am I just inventing it? I don’t know.

  Soon, I’m completely dressed and Will returns from the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy white robe.

  “Well,” I say. “I guess I’d better go back to my room.”

  He nods. I don’t understand why he’s so freaking silent all of a sudden, but it’s kind of scaring me.

  So there’s nothing for it, except to do like I say, and leave the room.

  “Goodnight,” I say, pausing in the doorway.

  And he finally speaks, “Goodnight,” but as he says it, he looks away, turning his face away from mine as if he can’t bear to look at me.

  Why didn’t you just say something to her? Anything? Damn it, man. She looked so alone, so fragile, as she dressed, so unsure of her place in this room, my bedroom. Christ, you couldn’t even look at her when she said goodnight to you, could you? Instead you simply looked away, that coldness sweeping through you once again.

  She’ll never want anything to do with you now and to be honest, who could blame her?

  She’s a young, beautiful girl – full of life and passion.

  A girl who deserves to be loved; who’s begging to be loved fully.

  And you can’t give her what she needs. You’re broken. Still stuck on that night. June 16th, 2013. The night everything changed forever. The night she was taken from you.

  With an anguished sigh, I throw myself back onto the bed, begging for the mercy of sleep to deliver me from these thoughts.

  It’s Saturday morning. I hid in upstairs in my apartment until I heard Will and Tabby leave for their trip to the park. Because I still don’t want him to see me. And now here I am in the London Library.

  I’ve come here because I need answers, and I’m hoping against hope that there might be some here.

  I’ve given the librarian the dates and names I want her to look up for me and I’m waiting nervously by her desk, trying not to chew my fingernails.

  As I wait for her to return, I gaze around me at this amazing old room. This place is huge. Floor to ceiling with books, practically every book that’s ever been published – every book you could ever think of is here. Rich dark wood bookshelves, and the companionable silence of people reading. But I can’t enjoy it today. I’m too goddamn impatient.

  After what seems like an age, the librarian returns with a pile of newspapers, only a few years old but already yellowing slightly.

  “Here you go,” she says in a whisper.

  “Thank you,” I mouth in reply, already impatient to begin my investigation, then head over and take my seat at one of the desks.

  I scan the pile of newspapers, unsure which one to start with. I decide to go with the Times. It seems the most like Will – proper and English and serious. With a deep breath, I begin to scan the pages.

  I turn and turn, my eyes darting from images to headlines to stories about politicians, celebrities, climate change, war. And then I see it and my heart stops, and somehow I immediately know this is what I’m looking for.

  The headline says: Talented Young Jewellery Designer Killed in Car Crash.

  I read on:

  The up and coming jewellery designer, Emma Cavendish was tragically killed last night in a vehicular accident. Emma, daughter of socialite and magazine editor Victoria Mayhew and prominent technology investor Simon Mayhew, was returning home from a meal with her husband, city executive and heir to the Cavendish industry dynasty, William Cavendish. Their car was struck by another vehicle driven by a man who was later revealed to be three times over the drink driving limit. No other passengers in either vehicle were harmed. Emma is also survived by her infant daughter, Tabitha Rose Cavendish.

  I stare at the words for I don’t know how long. But they sink in immediately, because on some level I guess I’ve always known that there was a tragedy just bubbling under the surface – a tragedy that was desperate to get out of him.

  And come on, why did I never ask where Tabby’s mother was?

  A four year old girl living with her dad and a mom who’s never mentioned?

  Come on. It doesn’t take a detective to work that one out. I guess I never asked because deep down I always knew the answer and didn’t want to bring it up, the same way he never once told me what happened to her.

  Sitting here in this beautiful but solemn and silent library, everything suddenly clicks into place. His coldness. His reticence. The cups of tea on a Friday evening – no wonder he doesn’t drink! And no wonder why he feels he has to spend every minute he can with Tabby.

  Oh Tabby. That poor, motherless little girl.

  And as I sit there, I let these facts sink in and join up with what I’ve always known deep down. And I forgive him. I forgive him for turning away from me. I forgive him for his coldness. I forgive him for the way he’s made me feel.

  Because I know it’s not his fault.

  I know he can’t help it.

  And I resolve, there and then, to do something about it.

  §

  I practically run back to the house. There are just too many unsaid things between us. And like always, I can feel them bubbling up inside me like they�
��re going to burst out any minute – like I’m not even in control of my own words.

  My hands are shaking so it takes a little longer getting the door key to work than it usually would, and I finally rush impatiently into the living room, but he’s not there. Next, I check the kitchen. Empty too. I run madly through the whole house, but he’s not in the basement gym or swimming pool and he’s not in the den or even in his bedroom. Where is he? He has to be here. I need to talk to him.

  Then I push open a door I hadn’t even noticed before. To a room I didn’t know existed. And there he is, at a desk. This is obviously his office. He looks up at me, concern wrinkling his strong brow, and just the sight of this beautiful, strong but broken man breaks my heart all over again. The desk is littered with papers. He’s clearly engrossed with work.

  “What’s wrong?” he says, slight alarm in his voice. “Is Tabby okay? I just put her down for a nap.”

  I shake my head.

  “No, Will,” I reply. “You don’t understand. Nothing’s wrong with Tabby. I’ve been out. But I came straight back here. I need to talk to you.”

  The concern on his face mingles with confusion.

  “What about?” he says, bluntly.

  And then it all comes out in one long stream of emotion. “I know, Will. I know about Emma. I know what happened. About the car crash. And I get it. I do. I understand. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through. The pain. To lose your wife so young. And I saw a photo in the newspaper. She was so beautiful. And although I can’t possibly imagine your pain, I get it. I understand. I know what makes you behave like you do. I know why as soon as fate brings us together you pull away from me. I know why you hurt me. And I need to tell you that it’s okay, that you can’t hurt me any more, because I understand. There’s something between us, and you can’t deny that. I know you can’t. And we need to see what that something is. So I’m not going to let you push me away again. And if you do, I’ll just be here, Will, waiting for you. Waiting for you to be ready. Waiting for you to come back to me.”