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“Come on,” I practically beg. Offering him my hand, I lead us to my room. His eyes skim our surroundings and his lips quirk slightly when he sees it’s exactly the same as the last time he was in here.Note to self: start decorating.
Softly, he reaches around me and closes the door. Then he has me up against it, his mouth demanding more, his hands exploring further, tugging at the waistband of my jeans, running along my skin. He’s acting like a man whose been offered a feast after starving for days. I know that feeling, the hunger is gnawing deep in my stomach.
I place my hands on his shoulders and push him gently away. Clarity comes back to him quickly and he gives me a sheepish grin. “Christ, sorry.” He runs his hand along the back of his neck and it’s possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. “So you wanted to show me something?” The teasing smile is back.
“Yeah, I kind of did, and then you may change your mind about this.” I wave my hand around the bedroom and the implication of what could happen in here. Moving from within his grasp, I make some space between us.
A confused frown develops between his brows. “What on earth are you talking about?” He looks most bemused, especially as I seem to be timewasting. My nerves get stronger and stronger.
“So, I need to show you this; it’s new.” I jump around and grab my arse in my hands, easily two big handfuls per cheek.
Silence.
I turn back around, Freddy is leant against the door, his legs crossed at the ankle, his hair flopping in his face. “Okay,” he replies, his tone hesitant.
I yank my vest top over my head. “And these.” I grab a generous handful of boob in each hand. “Well, these. They don’t really stay in the right position so much.” I’m about to continue and tell him about my nipples that now look weird all the time thanks to breastfeeding, but I manage to rein it in.
Silence.
"And these.” I point to the silver stretch marks that run over my stomach like a magic road map. My stomach’s flat but brutally defaced. “These don’t go away, ever.”
In one wide stride he has me in his arms, carrying me back to my bed. “Shut up.”
“But wait, I’ve got more things to show you.”
“Amber?”
“Yes?”
“Shut. Up.” His voice is soft and full, and I can feel his lips curving into a smile as he lowers us onto the waiting mattress. “You are so damn beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off you.”
I giggle and wriggle underneath him. “Really?”
“Really.”
And then he stops any further words with his mouth and takes his time making sure that any insecurities I have are long forgotten by the time he snuggles at my side and breathes his contentment into my ear.
We lay in satisfied silence for a while until he rolls himself onto his side, resting his head on his hand. “You know, I’m not the same either.”
“You’re right, that was better.”
He chuckles and kisses along my jaw. “Better?”
“Definitely.”
“Now I’m worried about before.” He shifts alongside me, and I relish the feel of his skin touching mine. The warmth of our skin meeting just feels perfectly right.
I glide a hand along his side, starting at his thigh, feeling along his toned stomach, up his chest until it rests on the curve of his shoulder. So beautiful, it hurts to think that I nearly lost him when he was in the racing accident. "Do you have any scars?”
His eyes flick over me. “Yes.”
“Show me.”
“They aren’t those sort of scars, Amber. You can’t see them.”
I go to ask more but then choose to let the moment pass. We will have time again in the depth of night to discuss the dark matters that weigh on our minds. I plant a kiss on his collarbone, breathing in the scent of him. "I want to know everything about you,” I say. “I want to know what you do: the business, your hobbies, the racing; all of it.”
He chuckles and his body rocks mine. “I’ll tell you everything. I want to know about you. I want to know about Isaac when he was a baby, I want to know about the stories you write. Why you got married.” His voice trails off a little bit here. In a sudden movement, he pins me to the bed, his lips trailing kisses down my throat. My heart rate quickens instantly. “But most of all I need to see these again.” In a flash he is up and straddled over my lap, his hands cupping my hideous breasts.” I squeal and squirm, but he just tightens his grip around my hips with his knees. Lowering his mouth to catch hold of a nipple he smiles wickedly. “Yep, these I need to see again right now.”
I start to giggle uncontrollably, and crazy, happy tears leak out of my eyes all in the same moment. And that’s when I begin to feel it, that unnameable emotion that I first felt for him nearly eleven years ago. It sucks me in, pulls me under, urges me to dive down deep and get lost with Freddy again.
Tomorrow I will beAmber Williamson, the mum and sensible grown up, but right now I’m going to enjoy being Amber French, the girl who feels and giggles. I’m going to take every moment of that for as long as I can.
