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Zeke was in the shower with his back to her, and the air was already steamy because he’d left the door ajar. She stepped into the shower and he turned immediately, wrapping his arms around her. He was already warm and her skin felt icy cold in comparison.
‘Just get acclimatised for a minute,’ he said huskily, his hands massaging her slender back and shoulder-blades. ‘You’ll soon warm up, I promise. You’re frozen right through.’
Locked together as they were, Melody felt she’d had a moment’s reprieve. The spray poured down mostly on Zeke, and after a minute or two he turned her round so the water hit the back of her head in a tingling flood. His hand reached for the shower gel and he poured a little into his palms, lathering it before running his hands over her shoulders and down her arms in firm gentle movements. ‘Nice?’ he whispered throatily in her ear.
Her nerves were pulled as tight as piano wire, and for the life of her she couldn’t reply. He turned her again, his long fingers stroking the white foam across her breasts in slow, sweet languid caresses meant to arouse her, and—in spite of her thudding heart—she felt her nipples tighten under his light touch. Feeling her response, he cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs drawing circles round the rosy-pink peaks until they were swollen and aching and she had to bite into her lower lip not to moan out loud. He was so, so good at this.
‘So delicious,’ Zeke murmured huskily, his mouth finding her eyelids, her nose, and then her lips in a scorching kiss. ‘Feeling warmer?’
Unable to speak, Melody managed to nod her head, memories crowding in of times in the past when they had showered together—intimate, precious times. Times of loving and laughter.
With his eyes holding her wide green ones, Zeke lathered his hands again, running them slowly across her belly and then over the rounded swell of her bottom as he moved her sensuously against his hardness. She knew he must have felt the scars at the bass of her spine, but he didn’t pause before sliding his fingers over her skin to find the golden curls at the apex of her thighs, his gaze never leaving hers.
Slowly she began to relax, the warm water and his caresses bringing a pleasure that quenched the panic. The worst scars were grooved in the tops of her legs, and standing wrapped together as they were he couldn’t see them. For now that was all that mattered. The moment would come, but not just yet.
She reached for the shower gel, her voice soft as she whispered, ‘My turn,’ longing to run her hands over his body.
‘By all means.’ His voice was thick with passion and his body demonstrated how much he wanted her, his breathing ragged and his manhood as hard as a rock.
Melody began by soaping the hair-roughened expanse of his muscled chest, flattening her palms over his nipples and rubbing the hard little nubs slowly as she watched his reaction. She took her time, loving the feel of his male flesh, and when her hands slid lower his stomach muscles bunched. Then she found the steely length of his manhood, causing him to gasp as he pulled her closer. ‘Hell, Dee,’ he muttered thickly.
‘I haven’t finished,’ she protested faintly, wanting him as much as he wanted her and knowing she couldn’t wait either.
‘Sweetheart, I appreciate the fact you think I’m a control freak, but believe me, I know my limitations,’ Zeke said shakily, reaching behind him and turning off the shower. He propelled her out of the cubicle, grabbing two towels off the bath rail and wrapping one round Melody and the other one around his hips.
He pulled her into the darkened bedroom, turning and taking her into his arms as he kissed her hungrily, the towels sliding from their bodies as they fell on the bed. Their bodies were still damp, their hair dripping, but nothing mattered but sating the fierce desire burning between them.
Zeke’s hands moved over her feverishly, as though he couldn’t get enough of the feel of her, his lips finding the warm pulse in her throat, the rounded swell of her breasts and their swollen peaks, the velvet skin of her belly. When he entered her their bodies moved in a perfect rhythm, building their shared sensation until his final thrust sent them spinning into another world—a world of ecstasy and untold pleasure and splintered light. Melody clung to him, not wanting the moment to end, knowing it would be the last time they’d be like this.
‘I love you.’ He moved slightly, relieving her of his weight but still keeping his arms round her as he fitted her into his side, pulling the duvet over them.
‘I love you.’ She could say that and mean it, but her voice was thick with the knowledge that she was going to lose him. ‘So much. Always remember that.’
Zeke fell asleep quite quickly, but although she was utterly exhausted Melody couldn’t doze off. She lay in his arms, warmly relishing the closeness as her thoughts tortured her. They had made love for a second time and he still hadn’t seen what the lorry had done to the once perfect body he had so adored. She had thought the moment had come, and although she had been terrified there had been an element of relief there too. But she’d had yet another reprieve.
She shivered, the slight movement causing Zeke to tighten his embrace in his sleep, but after another moment she carefully extricated herself from his arms and crept out of bed. The hotel room was warm and her hair was almost dry already, but again she felt a shudder run through her.
Quietly she left his bedroom and made her way to her own after picking up her clothes. Once there, she pulled on a pair of leggings and a warm thigh-length top, brushing her hair into submission and then securing it in a high ponytail at the back of her head. Then she walked over to the window and looked out.
It was five o’clock in the morning on Christmas Day. The night hours were almost over. In a little while children all over the country would be waking up to see what Father Christmas had brought them. Houses and flats and apartments would be filled with excitement and noise, and later families would gather together for Christmas lunch. Mothers would be harassed and flushed from working in the kitchen and keeping over-exuberant offspring from raiding their selection boxes, fathers would be playing host and plying visitors with pre-lunch drinks, and grandparents would be arriving with that extra-special present their grandchildren thought Father Christmas had forgotten.
It was a day of busyness and joy and elation, of eating and drinking too much, playing silly games and watching TV. That was normal, the way people did things—only she had never had that experience as a child. Her grandmother had been of the old school. One small stocking hung on the mantelpiece, containing an orange, a monetary gift and a small toy, had been her lot, and Christmas Day had been like any other day except they’d had turkey for lunch followed by Christmas pud. They had spent it alone, and although her grandmother must have received Christmas cards she couldn’t remember any. Certainly there had been no decorations nor a tree. After her grandmother had died and she’d been invited to friends’ houses for the Christmas break she had been amazed at the furore and excitement, at the sheer pleasure everyone got from the day. It had been a revelation of what Christmas could be.
Why was she thinking of this now? she asked herself, gazing out over the snow-covered buildings beyond the hotel, their rooftops white against the black sky. The past was the past and it didn’t do to dwell on it. Her grandmother had done her best and she had always known her grandmother loved her in her own way. She had been fortunate compared to some. Zeke, for instance.
She moved restlessly, suddenly aware of why her thoughts had taken such a turn. Deep inside she had always known Zeke was her chance of experiencing what other people took as ordinary family life. There had been a part of her that had hoped they could create their own world within the world—a place where child
ren could be born and loved and protected, where all the things they’d both missed in their childhood could be given to their babies. She had hoped, but always not quite convinced herself.
And she had never believed she was good enough for him. So she had held back on total commitment, subconsciously waiting for the time when the bubble would burst. She had always been striving towards an unattainable pinnacle of perfection, and although he had taken her as his wife and loved her she hadn’t felt she was the best person for him.
Maybe if she had known her mother and father it would have been different—or her mother at least. She had always felt there was so much missing in her background, and her grandmother had been chary about discussing anything. Even the briefest sojourn into the past had brought such bitterness and pain on her grandmother’s side she hadn’t felt she could press for more. And so she’d grown up wondering, all the time wondering, without any answers about the people who had given her life.
Melody closed her eyes, wrapping her arms round her middle as she shook her head slowly. All this wasn’t really relevant to what she was facing now. She was a grown woman of twenty-seven and she had to move on. She had to leave Zeke—go somewhere far away, get a job and carve out some sort of a life for herself. Her thoughts ran through her head, a silent litany. She had told herself the same thing so many times in the past three months, willing herself on.
She couldn’t change her mind now. She opened her eyes, beginning to pace the room. She couldn’t—didn’t dare—let herself imagine anything different, because where would she be then? This way she knew what she was taking on and there was a strange comfort in that, somehow. She’d survive.
She stopped abruptly, feeling as though the walls of the room were pressing in on her. She had always hated small spaces. That had been part of the nightmare of staying in hospital—the feeling of absolute confinement. She needed to get out and walk. It was the only way she could think.
