Keep Me (Beggar's Choice #3) (12 page)

The trouble is that despite these crucial differences I know
that we’d be good together – bed destroying good. With some people you just
know and unfortunately I’m sure that Bram knows this too. The amount of
experience he has means that he must do, and more and more lately I catch his
eyes on my breasts or I’ll turn suddenly and his eyes will be on my bum, his
pupils dark and blown. Each time he makes a joke or distracts me with a
question, but this attraction doesn’t go away. It doesn’t seem to need tending
as it’s always there, a slow burn waiting for the spark that sets it aflame.

I’m brought back from my thoughts to find Bram looking at me
strangely. “What?” I ask defensively.

He shrugs awkwardly. “Why would you help me? There’s no
need. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Erm because you’re hurt.”

He smiles. “Alys I’ve had far worse than this and coped.
Jesus, I broke my collarbone badly when I was fifteen. That hurt like a
motherfucker.”

“What do you mean you coped? Didn’t any of the adults help?”

He looks bewildered. “In what way?”

“Well making you your favourite food and drink. When I was
little my mum used to always make me a poorly bed up on the settee with the
special poorly blanket, which was really just an eiderdown with bluebells on
it.” I warm to my subject. “Then I could watch what I wanted on TV, and she’d
always buy me a new book and a bottle of Lucozade. Jesus that stuff was like
crack for kids with its sugar content.”

He looks wistful. “That sounds nice. I’d have liked that I
think.”

“What did your aunt and uncle do for you then?” I ask
tentatively.

“Well not much,” he murmurs looking uncomfortable. “My uncle
was a bit of a hard case and he didn’t believe in babying boys. He thought they
had to learn how to be men so he wouldn’t let my aunt spoil me. I still had to
do my chores.” He laughs suddenly. “He just had to give me a bit more time to
complete them. Washing windows takes a bit of time when you’ve had a plate and
screws put in. I think he misunderstood the doctor when he told me to move my
elbow, hand and fingers as much as I could.”

I’m absolutely horrified and privately I think that his
uncle sounds like a complete bastard. He must catch my expression because he
smiles slightly. “He wasn’t that bad babe. He was a man of his time and I was a
naughty, cocky little shit with a predilection for getting into trouble.”

“Well I know that you’re a grown adult now but everybody
needs a bit of looking after sometimes,” I say lightly. “I’ll help you with
putting a bag over your arm and I’ll stick around in case you need help, and
then how about you let me spoil you a bit?”

He looks like he’s equally yearning for this while remaining
ignorant of why anyone would want to cosset him, like a big dog that’s been
mistreated but still hovers close wanting attention but not knowing what that
means. My throat gets tight and he instantly grasps my thoughts and looks
slightly panicked, like he’s anticipating me crying over him. Instantly that
cocky expression slides over his face, obliterating the nervous expression so
that I actually doubt whether I really saw it.

“So Alys, you’re going to help me undress?” I gulp but nod
bravely. “And you’re going to wait while I have a shower, the water streaming
over my naked body, and then you’re going to run the towel over me slowly?”

“
Okay
,” I say in a loud, bright voice ignoring his
smirk. “Let’s get you showered.” He follows me and I just know that he’s
silently laughing.

When we get into the bathroom after a short detour to mine
to get a shopping bag for his arm and some tape, I pause. “Okay perhaps if you
take your shirt off first, then we can bag your arm up and then maybe you can
do the rest yourself.”

“Coward,” he mutters. “Don’t think you’re getting out of it
now.”

I’m flustered and it’s egging him on so I take a deep breath
and grab control. I grasp his t-shirt. “Okay what would probably work best is
if I pull the shirt up from the back and then you can pull it over your head.
That way we shouldn’t jostle your arm. Bend forward.”

He bites his lip against the obvious retort and obediently
bends forward, inadvertently gifting me the scent of his shampoo which smells
of something citrusy and sharp. He’s standing so close now, all that golden
skin in touching distance and his hot, sweet breath hitting my face. This is
going to go wrong I just know it, but like a puppet I reach around him brushing
my hands against his sharp hipbones and feeling his stomach muscles contract
against me and hearing him take a sharp breath. I’m trying my best to ignore
that and hoping fervently that he can’t hear that my breathing has picked up as
I pull his t-shirt up his back and then gently over his head, and then stand
back thankfully as he pulls it off himself.

I can feel my eyes widen slightly as the full glory of his
torso comes into view. I’ve seen him shirtless many times over the last couple
of months, but nothing prepares me to see him this close up. He’s so beautiful
with wide shoulders and a long, lean torso narrowing down to sharp hipbones and
the start of a mouth-watering ‘v’ which is shown off by his jeans hanging so
precariously from his hips. To add insult to injury all of this is covered in
that golden brown skin which I know is his natural tone.

Becoming aware that silence has fallen I gulp and look up
hastily at him aware that I was just staring at him like he was the last Mars
Bar in a sweet shop. I thought he’d be ready with a sharp quip but instead he’s
staring at me too, his eyes dark and hot. It brings me back to myself like a
glass of water thrown in my face.
My
friend
I chant inwardly.
My
friend
and
not
shagging
material
.

I turn swiftly and busy myself picking up the plastic bag.
“Right,” I say brightly, holding it up. “Let’s get you bagged up.”

He stares at me for a second his breathing heavier than
normal and then acquiesces with his normal good grace, holding out his arm and
letting me fuss over placing it correctly. Once I’m sure that it’s watertight I
reach for the masking tape and start winding it round the bag.

“This is only a very temporary measure. It won’t hold up to
much movement because I can’t tape it to your skin for fear of hurting you when
it comes off.”

“Do I want to enquire why you’ve got masking tape in your
bedroom?” he asks, his voice deep and raspy making me shiver inside, but I hide
it and give him a cheeky grin.

“Maybe not but you can call me Mistress Alys if you like or
Ma’am.”

He throws his head back laughing and I falter slightly but
turn quickly to get some towels from the unit in the corner. “So, if you can
just manage to get your jeans …” I hear the shower start and a muffled clink
and spin round before gasping and holding my hand to my chest like an old
maiden aunt. “Or of course you could just get naked in front of me,” I squeak
as he saunters casually into the wide shower enclosure making no attempt to
cover himself at all.

I’m trying valiantly to keep my eyes off his world class
arse with the twin golden globes that are so tight you could bounce a penny off
them, but then he turns around not even trying to hide the massive erection that
he’s sporting. It reaches up to his belly button and is so thick and gorgeous I
can’t find the words. Water runs in rivulets down his tight torso hitting his
long, well-muscled hairy legs, and his thick biceps bulge as he soaps himself
still watching me from eyes that have gone a dark coppery yellow colour.

For a second I think about squawking and running out of the
bathroom but then I remind myself that I am a strong, independent woman. I’ve
seen a fair few naked men, albeit none as gorgeous as this one, but I’ve never
backed down from a challenge and I’m not going to start with him. Leaning
casually back against the sink I raise one eyebrow challengingly. “You missed a
spot.”

He looks down at himself and quirks his eyebrow back at me.
“Where?”

“Your mammoth ego needs a good polish Pipsqueak.”

He throws his head back laughing merrily and I can safely
say that this is one of the main things that I love about him. He has no ego at
all really and is just very sure of himself.

Recovering himself he stares at me. “There’s a towel on the
side.”

“Why? Are you finished already?”

“No, it’s for all that dribble running down your chin babe.
A woman with a saliva problem, well it’s just not attractive.”

“Oh fuck off.” I start laughing. “I presume you can get dry
yourself so I’m going to make you some breakfast.”

He stops laughing. “You’re cooking me breakfast?”

I look at him confused. “Of course I am. You need some food
inside you before you take any more painkillers. I’m going to remake your bed
so that you’ve got some nice fresh sheets, and you’re going to sleep for a long
time because you’re going to feel a bit crap for the next few days.”

He switches the shower off and grabs the towel that I hand
to him with his good arm. Winding it around his narrow hips slightly clumsily
he watches me intently as I take off the bag, fussing over the cast and patting
dry the few drops of water that have got onto it.

I look up at him finding him looking back at me like I’m
some sort of circus act. “Are you okay?” I ask and he stares hard at me for a
second before smiling uncertainly.

“Yeah, thanks babe. Just not used to this sort of thing you
know.”

I’m alarmed. “Oh, am I being too fussy? I forget that you’ve
lived on your own all this time. I’m probably freaking you out. I’ll stop.”

“No, no,” he says so quickly that I almost get whiplash.
“Don’t stop. It’s …”

He fades out and I wait and then finally ask, “What?”

“It’s nice,” he finally admits.

“Well of course it is.” I smile at him. “Everyone needs a
bit of TLC Bram. You’re not an island. Now what’s your favourite breakfast and
I’ll make it for you.”

“Really?” He looks slightly excited. “Anything I like?”

I falter slightly. “Well only if it’s not pussy. I’m not
giving you that.”

He throws his head back laughing. “Alys, I’m
so
offended. I know that I’m a massive rock god who has women weeping over the
perfection of my features but even I have to eat breakfast.”

“Oh shut up.” I love it when it’s just the two of us and I
make him laugh like this. It gives me the same warm feeling that I get whenever
I know that I’ve pleased him in some way. “Okay, name the breakfast.”

“Can I have Eggs Benedict?”

I smile because he looks like a little boy at this moment.
“Of course.”

He looks astonished. “What
really
? You can make that?
I’ve only ever had it in hotels.”

“Of course I can.” I smile. “Much as I like the way that
you’re looking at me as if I’ve discovered how to invent time travel Bram, I
have to tell you that it’s an easy dish to make. Mostly anyone can make that.”

“Not now,” he breathes, making shoo motions. “Get to it
quickly.”

I turn and walk out of the bathroom but stop when he calls
my name loudly. “What?”

“Thank you,” he says seriously. He’s all beautiful man
standing there at this moment but what catches my breath is the glimpse that I
have of the young boy who seems to have never had anyone taking care of him in
the new world that he found himself in.

“It’s my pleasure,” I say softly and it is.

***

A week later I lie in bed reflecting on how this feeling
lasted all week during which I fussed over him, getting his pills and cooking
his favourite foods. The next day he’d had a very expensive navy and white
flowered eiderdown delivered, and that night and every night since he’d
insisted that we curl up under it and work our way through the box sets of
‘Suits’. I’d snuggled next to him enjoying his warmth and strength and feeling
closer to him every time. I’d felt needed and useful and that I was good for
him rather than an unwanted visitor and a nuisance like I’d been throughout my
childhood once my mum had died.

He’d taken everything that I’d done for him with a kind of
astonished gratitude and I’d smiled when I realised that he was eking out his
invalid status, claiming aches and pains that I knew were non- existent so that
I would cosset him. I let it go, enjoying giving him something that he hadn’t
had since he lived with his mum.

A sudden urgent bang on the door has me jerking up in bed
and looking at the clock. It’s 2 in the morning. Before I can shout to come in
the door opens and a hand snaps the overhead light on making me gasp and shield
my eyes for a second. “What on earth?” I ask looking at Bram as he hovers
looking sick and agitated. “What is it Bram? Are you in pain?”

He shakes his head turning to the wardrobe to start rifling
through it. He says something but I can’t hear him so I say
Bram
warningly and then fumble for my hearing aid by the side of the bed.

He comes back to the bed wringing his hands slightly and
waiting for me to finish. “Sorry,” he says in a rush. “You usually hear most
things so I take it for granted sometimes.”

I smile at him no longer feeling any trace of embarrassment.
“It’s okay. My hearing’s always a bit crap when I wake up, or if I’ve had the
hearing aid out for some time.” I stop, seeing that unusually for him he’s not
paying attention. “What is it?” I ask alarmed, suddenly seeing his pale, clammy
skin and sweaty forehead. “Oh Bram babe what’s happened?”

He comes down on the bed next to me so suddenly that I gasp,
and then he’s hugging me close burying his head in my neck. “
Bram
?” I
urge but he shakes his head violently and I leave him be, stroking the messy
waves of his hair and feeling his stubble against my throat. After a minute he
raises his head and I exclaim as I see how wet his eyes are.