Breathe You In (18 page)

I set the sandwich aside. “He died, my husband.
He was killed in an accident, and my life was turned upside down.” My voice
broke on the last word, but I held it together. Disguised it well. I hoped.

Instantly she reached out and placed her hand on
mine. “I’m sorry.”

I nodded. Would she still be sorry if she knew
my husband’s death had saved her son? Would she still regret my loss? What if
she could turn the clock back for Matt, would she save him?

What ifs served no use. I’d learned that as sure
as I’d learned the earth kept spinning. What ifs had tortured me to no avail.

“It was hard,” I said, “grief is a persistent
beast that takes a long time to fight. Beating it is impossible, learning to
live with it the best you can do.”

“It’s not a pleasant path to walk or even
consider walking.” She removed her hand and curled it around her cup. “Has
Ruben told you his history?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“All of it?”

“I think so.”

“He nearly died, too, you know?”

“Because of his heart?”

“Yes. His illness made him very sick. He became
half the man he was, less even.”

“That must have been horrible to see.”

“Agony for his father and I. He was literally
slipping away before our very eyes, and there was nothing we could do but hope
for a miracle.”

“Miracles are in short supply.”

“Yes, but we were lucky. We were blessed with
one.”

I’d given them their miracle. I could have said
no to the organ retrieval team, because it had been up to me, my decision
entirely, no persuasion, no convincing. But I hadn’t said no. In the foggy
corners of my agonized brain I’d dredged up the answer yes.

“The heart Ruben has in his chest now.” She
paused. “It’s a new one. His lungs too, for that matter. He had a transplant.”

“Yes, he told me.”

She breathed out. “Good, I’m glad.” She touched
her pearls. “He doesn’t tell many people, Katie, I don’t know why, maybe it’s a
male pride thing.”

“I think that’s exactly it. What bloke wants a
girl to feel sorry for him or think he’s not as tough as he looks?”

She leaned forward. “He is, though—tough,
that is. What he went through, most people would have begged to be put out of
their misery. But not my son, he had this fight for life, this will to live
that staggered even the medical staff at times.”

“I can imagine.”

“If you know him at all, then yes, you probably
can.” She dropped the pearls she was fiddling with, balled her hands into fists
on the table. “Katie, I just want you to understand what you’re getting
involved with. My son is just returning to the land of the living. He hasn’t
dated for a long time, and I know he hankers after his old life of fast cars
and traveling the world. I don’t know if that will ever happen again for him,
so he needs something to replace that. He has a future now, thanks to our
miracle, but he needs a reason for getting up each morning.”

“Mrs. Strong, with all due respect, I think
we’re both just finding our feet after a really crap time. Safety in numbers,
doing it together is working out pretty well so far, although he’s scared the
living daylights out of me today.”

She sighed. “He’s done this a few times since
the transplant, he’ll be okay, though, the drugs just need to be blasted into
him for twenty-four hours. But of course, catching it early has helped.”

“Yes.” I stared at my tea, the brown puddle that
it was, sitting in the pure white cup. Silence stretched between us. I didn’t
like to say that us getting wet and then tumbling into bed still soaking might
have something to do with his illness. But it wasn’t, surely.

“I guess what I’m really trying to say is…”
Veronica said, snapping me from my self-blame.

“What?”

She touched her hair then placed her hand on her
chest. “Please be gentle with him, he’s been through so much.” She paused,
seemed to summon up the courage to speak again. “Please, just don’t break his
heart, it’s delicate in more ways than one.”

I touched the hand she still had resting on the
table, cupped my palm over her knuckles. “Don’t worry, his new heart is very
precious to me. I won’t do anything to hurt it, ever.”

“Oh my goodness, I swear that one is a
Marshmallow Man.” I pointed out of the window and laughed. I’d never seen
anything like it.

“Where?” Ruben looked, saw the hot-air balloon I
was flapping my hand at and chuckled. “It looks like the one from
Ghostbusters.”

The sky from Ruben’s flat—he had an
amazing view of the park, which meant the festival too—was a multicolored
sea of inflated balloons. But few were traditional shapes, the majority were
novelty, and I marveled at how some could fly they were so big.

“This is crazy.” I sat back on his sofa that
we’d spun to face the window. It was like having our own private box. Down
below people milled about; kids eating
candyfloss
,
toddlers in buggies pointing excitedly, couples strolling hand in hand. A carousel
and a Big Wheel had been set up. Music and laughter and the whoosh of flames
lifting the balloons from the ground breezed through the open window.

“More wine?” Ruben asked.

“No, I’m fine.” I set my glass on the table.

We’d enjoyed our own indoor picnic. Not because
Ruben wasn’t well or that we didn’t fancy mooching around the festival, but
because we could enjoy it from the comfort of his home and that was a unique
experience.

“Last year they had a McLaren balloon, shaped
like a Formula One car. It was huge, probably the biggest, and I think it went
the fastest too.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

He reached for my hand, kissed my knuckles. “I
would have organized for us to go up in one if you’d wanted to.”

“No, I don’t think I could cope with that. I
like my feet firmly on the floor.”

“Of course.” He put his arm around me.

I snuggled in close, loving his body against
mine. He’d only spent forty-eight hours in hospital, and then was back at work
the next week. His strength had returned quickly, and we’d been spending as
much time as possible together. Enjoying our new romance and the closeness that
went with it. We’d both had enough of battling on alone.

“Next weekend,” I said, tracing my finger over
his belly, rucking his t-shirt as I went. “My friend Felicity is getting
married.”

“The girl whose hen night you went to?”

“Yes, that’s right. Well, I told her about you
and…” I paused. “I don’t know if you’re up for it, but she wants you to come to
the wedding. With me, as my guest.”

“And that makes you nervous.”

I looked up at him, stilled my finger. “A little.”

“Because they’ve only ever seen you with Matt?”

How did he just get that? I didn’t know, but I
was grateful that he did and I didn’t need to spell it out for him. “Yes.”

“Well, you could always make up some excuse for
me, say I’m off bungee jumping that weekend or something.”

“No, I want you there. I don’t want to spend the
weekend without you, and besides, Matt’s gone, it’s us now, Katie and Ruben.”

“Yes.” He stroked my cheek. “It’s us now.”

“I want everyone to know it.”

“Me too.” He smiled.

“So you’ll come?”

“Absolutely. And I’ll be on my best behavior.”

I rolled my eyes. “Right, because the girls are
always
so
well behaved.”

“What I mean is, I won’t do any of this.”

Suddenly I was on my back and he was over me. I
giggled and wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his thighs. “I
should think not, Mr. Strong, and certainly not in church.”

“
Mmm
, but maybe later,
at the reception.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. He tasted of wine and the
salty crisps we’d been eating. “In our hotel room, maybe then I’ll have my
wicked way with you and do all the things I’ve been dreaming of doing.”

“I’ve unleashed a monster,” I said with a smile
and then groaned when the hardness of his cock, through our jeans, pressed
against my mound.

“You really want to see my monster?”

“I think I’d better. See if it can ever be
tamed.”

He kissed me again, slanting his head and
probing deep. He swept his hand up the inside of my t-shirt, squeezed my breast
and then tweaked my nipple through my thin bra.

I became lost in him. Every sense was focused on
Ruben; a hungry need settled between my legs.

“I want you now,” he whispered hotly. “
Here.
”

We’d made love several times since he’d left
hospital, but in bed, at mine, quiet, slow, intense, the same as the first
time. I wasn’t complaining, it was wonderful, but this was new, this was
middle-of-the-day sex, and damn, I wanted some.

“Yes,” I said, “fuck me.”

He raised his head, stared down at me. A
devilish smile curled his lips. “Say that again.”

“What?” I pushed his flopping hair back from his
forehead.

“What you just asked me to do.”

Ah, he liked dirty talk. I could do that. “Fuck
me, Ruben, fuck me now, make me come, make me scream your name.”

“Oh, Jesus.” His mouth went slack. “Get naked.”
He reached for his top, yanked it off, his face now a picture of urgency.

I did the same with my t-shirt, wriggling on the
sofa and then tossing the material aside.

He dipped his head to my chest, tugging at my
bra.

“
Oi
! Get a room!”
shouted a deep, bellowing but distanced voice through the window.

We both froze.

“Shit,” Ruben said, screening my body with his.
“What the…?”

I looked outside. Not thirty feet from the flat
was a huge basket with two men in it. A massive flame burned bright behind
them, sending an orange glow over their bodies. They wore flat caps but didn’t
look particularly old—one had a black moustache, the other was holding a
rope.

“I have got a bloody room,” Ruben shouted.
“Bugger off!”

The men laughed, the flame burned brighter, and
they started to lift upward.

“Have fun,” the one with the moustache called
with a wave.

“We will,” I shouted, managing to wave back as
they went from view.

Ruben looked down at me. “I’m really sorry about
that, I had no idea they’d come so close.”

I swatted his shoulder and grinned. “It was
funny, they couldn’t believe their eyes. They thought they were going to see
some action.”

“
Pervs
.” Ruben
grinned. “Now, where were we?”

“You were just about to fuck me.”

“Damn, you have such a filthy mouth.”

“And don’t you know it.”

“Not as much as I’d like to.” He unclipped my
bra, sat up and squeezed my breasts together, his thumbs toying with my
nipples.

I arched into him, loving the sensation of him
touching me and gazing so adoringly at me. “So how about I tell you to get your
cock out,” I said, reaching for his waistband. “Get it out and show me what you
can do with it.”

“So sweet yet so dirty.” He grinned. “But hang
on.” He stood, went to the window and drew the curtains. “Just in case we have
any more voyeurs. I don’t want them seeing what I’m about to do with my cock.”

“I like the sound of that.” I licked my lips.

“Do you now?”

He looked tall and hot standing over me and
slowly undoing the buttons on his jeans. Long arms and legs, strong fingers,
the perfect spread of body hair and an air of absolute determination about him.

“You’d best take your trousers off, or they
might get ripped,” he said, nodding at my jeans.

“Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.”

He rolled his eyes, groaned. “Now you’re just
messing with my head, woman.”

I giggled, sat and shoved off my jeans. “I can
mess with any bit of you that needs dirtying up.”

“Will this do for starters?” He fisted his cock,
moved toward me and slotted one hand in my hair.

Sat on the sofa, I was the perfect height to
take him into my mouth.

“As long as I still get the main course,” I
said.

“You can count on that.”

I eyed the slit at the end of his dick—dark
and deep. My mouth watered for the flavor of him. He held me tight, and I
opened up to take what he offered.

“Ah, yeah, that’s so hot to watch.” He groaned
as he sank in.

My heart was tripping. This was a new side to
Ruben, more dominant, more assertive. I liked it, a lot. I could be his to do
whatever he desired with; it would suit me very much. I just wanted to make him
happy, and I knew full well he’d make me happy.