Keep Me (Beggar's Choice #3) (14 page)

Finally squeaky clean I shut the water off and after
moisturising my face and body and blow drying my long hair dry I slide my dressing
gown on and meander out only to pull up short with a scream. “Jesus Bram,” I
shriek. “I might have been naked.”

He’s lying on my bed, a vision in just a pair of pyjama
shorts, his skin glowing golden against my white sheets. “I’m disappointed. I
can go and come back again,” he smirks.

“What are you doing here?” I ask nervously. I don’t feel
ready for witty banter tonight. My emotions are too close to the surface and I
can’t be near him when I’m like this in case I let something slip. The thought
of him letting me down gently and feeling sorry for me is too painful.

His smile dies and he sits up all the muscles on his abdomen
moving powerfully. Hunching over he looks at me from under heavy eyelids and I
wait. Finally he smiles hesitantly. “Will you sleep with me?”

“Pardon?” I squeak thinking that my hearing aid must be
malfunctioning.

“Will you sleep with me?” he signs and for a second I’m
diverted.

“When did you learn that one?” Bram’s been learning every
day now for a few weeks and he’ll constantly surprise me with little sayings in
sign language, which are surprising because of their complexity.

It’s Bram that’s taken to it so easily, maybe because he’s
so in control of his body and his quicksilver mind. Surprisingly Matt has had
more difficulty, and Bram and I have been driven to hysterical laughter
sometimes when his signing goes drastically wrong. Once he’d told us seriously
that his goat had been flattened when he’d actually been trying to explain why
he had a flat tyre. I snort and hold up my hand. “No, don’t bother. It was the
first thing that you asked to learn wasn’t it?”

He looks indignant. “Alys you malign me baby. It was
actually the second. I learnt how to sign fuck off Matty you sanctimonious twat
first.”

I laugh out loud and it feels good after the tension. For a
second he seems caught in my smile and some of the shadows over him lift a
little but then he slumps. “Will you?” he asks quietly, so quietly that I almost
don’t hear him but then he signs it to make sure that I know what he’s asking.

“Why?”

He struggles to speak for a second. “Because I don’t want to
be on my own now. If I have you with me everything is clear. My thoughts don’t
hop around and I can sleep.” He looks almost embarrassed to ask, the way that
he always does when he thinks that he’s demanding something from someone that
they’re not willing to give. Some lessons are hard learnt I suppose, but I
don’t think there’s many people that can be around Bram as an adult and not do
what he wants. I certainly can’t.

I wrinkle my nose. “Not sure that’s very flattering,” I say
gently wanting him to smile again but he just stares at me and I sigh. “I’m not
sure this is the best idea that you’ve ever had but of course I will.”

“You will?” He looks almost surprised as if he’d expected me
to say no.

“Well of course I will. You need me so I’ll be there.”

He falls silent looking at me closely as if I’m some sort of
rare exhibit at a museum, and then he holds out his hand. I gulp feeling his
warm, dry skin against me and the strength in his fingers as they clasp mine so
gently. He’s unusually silent and it influences me so we walk quietly up the
stairs to his room. I’ve only been in here once when I was helping him with his
arm and I didn’t get a proper look then, so when he opens the door and ushers
me in I look around avidly, inhaling the wonderful warm smell of grapefruit and
sandalwood that the room seems to be saturated in.

It’s a huge room running the whole length of the flat with
floor to ceiling windows giving a spectacular view of the early morning sun
hitting the London skyline and skipping sunbeams across the slow moving river.
A gigantic, modern, platform bed made of light oak rests against the exposed
brick wall. Anyone lying there at night would see the backdrop of London picked
out in twinkling, primary colours.

The covers are gold and grey striped cotton, and messy and
ruffled where he’d obviously rolled out of bed in response to the late night
phone call. By the windows are two huge, grey velvet sofas which look deep and
inviting. A flat screen TV is against another brick wall with an entertainment
centre underneath it, and four guitars are resting against the wall along with
a sheaf of loose paper lying on the floor with music running across it in
Bram’s slashing hand. I turn and find him watching me closely and I flush
slightly.

He smiles. “Not what you were expecting
a mhuirnin
?”

I smile. “It’s so normal. I was expecting at least to find
disco balls and stripper poles.”

He smirks. “I like the pole idea although once in my boudoir
the only pole that they’re writhing around is right here baby.” He clutches his
groin and I laugh loudly.

“Enough, Tom Jones. Let’s go to bed.”

For a second his eyes darken and his bare chest rises and
falls sharply, his six pack contracting. Then he seems to let go of his sudden
tension and reaches out and slides his hand into mine pulling me over to the
bed gently and making a move to untie my robe.

Suddenly startled by a realisation I grab his long fingers.
“I’ve got to get my nightie,” I gasp. “I forgot all about it.”

He breathes in and tightens his grasp on the robe tie. “You
mean you’re naked underneath this,” he says hoarsely, and heat pools in my
stomach enough to make me take a step back although I don’t get far because he
has a firm hold of me.

“Bram!” I say sharply and he seems to come to himself and
lets the tie go reluctantly. “I’ll just go and get my nightie,” I add,
intending to get the thickest, longest one that I own which might be difficult
as most of my nightwear is skimpy.

“No,” he says sharply. “Don’t go. I’ll go and get it.”

“Bram, I’m only going downstairs. I’m not nipping back to
Ireland.”

“Nethertheless I’ll go and get it for you. Where’s your
nightie?” he says stubbornly.

“Under my pillow.” He nods jerkily and dashes out of the
bedroom and I move to the windows looking out and worrying at the belt around
my waist. This has disaster written all over it and just like that I suddenly
remember what else is under my pillow. “Oh Bram,” I shriek. “Wait!”

“Wait for what?” He saunters into the room. The bastard
isn’t even breathing hard even though he must have moved at the speed of light.
He’s carrying a handful of aqua lace and his face has the biggest smirk on it
like the stupid jerk’s cheeks might crack with the smile that he’s holding
back.

“Oh my God,” I groan dropping my red face into my hands, and
he bursts into guffaws of laughter.

Finally after what seems like hours he sobers although his
dimples are still ticking madly. “Alys,” he starts and then snorts and has to
stop speaking for a second while he chokes back more laughter and I wait
patiently. Finally he controls himself and starts again. “I got your nightie.
It was under the pillow and you’ll never
guess
what else I found?”

I shake my head at him, my face so hot that I could fry
bacon on it. “Don’t say it,” I warn him and he laughs again.

“Really, it’s like putting your hand under your pillow when
the tooth fairy has visited.” He pauses and smirks. “Only
miles
better.”

“Oh my God Bram just get on with it.”

He chokes out a laugh and pulls his hand from where it’s
behind his back and then proffers my vibrator to me as if he’s proposing
marriage. For a second we just stare at it in all its huge, iridescent blue
glory and then he chokes again making a gigantic, disgusting snort. “I think
we’ve found out why you’re single anyway Al. I mean who could compare to this
big, bad boy?” He pauses. “Well apart from me,” and then he breaks into more
laughter only stopping to flinch when I punch him.

He smiles for a second and then it’s almost as if I can see
the dark cloud of depression come over him and the guilt for laughing on such a
terrible night. Looking up he catches my eyes and sighs, shakily lifting one
shoulder up in a clumsy shrug.

“Oh Bram,” I say gently. “It’s okay to laugh. I don’t know
Sid but I’m pretty sure that he’d have found that funny.” He gives a tired sigh
and I gesture to the humungous bed. “Come on babe get in.” He nods jerkily and
lifts the covers sliding into the sheets with a relieved sigh. Holding my
nightie I turn but I’m brought up short when he catches my hand.

“Where are you going?” he asks in a panicked voice. “I
thought you were staying.”

I really want to hug him at the moment but I settle for
waggling my nightie at him. “I’m just going to change into this, sweetie. I
won’t be a minute.” He examines me carefully for a second as if checking for
falsehoods, shadows almost black under his eyes, and I notice that their
normally intense colour is washed out and almost translucent. “Lie down Bram.
I’ll be back in a minute.”

Finally he nods and settles back while I nip into his
bathroom and make short work of shedding my dressing gown and pulling on my
nightie. Pulling my hair back with a band that I find on the side I look at
myself for a second. I’m pale and my eyes don’t look any less tired than
Bram’s, but there’s something sparkling in mine that worries me enormously. To
him all of this is just the perks of being good friends with someone and we are
good friends I know that.

He talks to me all the time now about everything, and I see
signs of the person that lies underneath the good humour and banter, and there
is someone serious under there. Oh he’ll always be humorous I think and he’s a
warm man with a very strong barometer for if anyone feels awkward and sad which
is when the humour comes out.

However, he’s also thoughtful and fiercely loyal and I’d
been astonished to find out from Matt how much he does for charity, not just
giving shed loads of money away but also his time. He’d been embarrassed to
find out that I knew about it and dismissed it as Catholic schoolboy guilt but
I know better.

He’s not just a light hearted, pretty playboy and that
somehow makes him more dangerous to me than when he’d been just a heartthrob
guitarist, because he’s turning out to be someone that I could … I stop myself
before I can even think that thought because it’s a shortcut to certain
devastation.

Bram has no interest in being serious about anyone. I
suppose one day he’ll meet some beautiful supermodel or actress and then he’ll
settle down and have loads of very photogenic children, but nowhere in that
scenario is there a place for me, the transient Irish girl, unless my role is
that of the plucky best friend. I see my mouth twist in the mirror and sigh
heavily before exiting the bathroom with at least some of my armour intact.

This wavers as soon as I see him. He’s pushed the covers
down slightly and the lamplight limns the sleek golden skin stretched tight
over the dips and valleys of the muscles running down his torso. The sheet is
caught on one sharp hipbone shadowing the v in his pelvic muscles.

It isn’t the male beauty before me that makes me catch my
breath though, it’s the hand stretched out palm upwards that looks somewhat
vulnerable and the dark shadows under his closed eyes. For a second he looks
almost like a young boy and then he shifts and opens his eyes and the illusion
is gone because there is nothing young about Bram’s eyes. They show only a very
adult, almost a tarnished view of the world.

He shifts again. “
A
stòr
,” he says so groggily
that it’s difficult to hear him. He clears his throat. “Are you okay?” he asks
shifting to make sure that I can see his lips.

“Yes fine why?” My voice is almost squeaky and his eyes
narrow in an alert study. I inwardly curse because I don’t need him examining
me at this point in time. Bram can be astonishingly perceptive and makes leaps
in comprehension that don’t make sense to many. I don’t want him guessing at
even an ounce of what I’m feeling. I don’t want his face to soften in pity, or
for him to become stiff and cool in an attempt to get me over my crush.

“I’m fine,” I say in a more normal voice. “I was just
wondering if I should leave you alone and let you sleep.”

He raises himself up on his elbows. “Why?” he asks in a
sharp voice. “Do you not want to do this?” He looks almost hurt and I can see
the beginning of him closing himself off in his eyes. “If you don’t want to
sleep in with me that’s fine Alys. It’s not an obligatory part of lodging
here.”

“No, no it’s fine.” I wave my hand dismissively as I move
towards the bed and he automatically slides over to give me room and I think to
give me the warm side of the bed. One strong arm lifts the sheet up and I slide
off my dressing gown and throw it onto the chair by the bed. Turning back I
falter as I see his eyes looking almost jade green and glowing with some
emotion that looks tightly controlled. He’s staring at my body and looking down
I let out a nervous laugh fluttering my hands and resisting the urge to cover
my boobs. “Sorry this is the nightie with the most coverage.”

He stares at the aqua coloured lace and raises an eyebrow.
“That …” he starts in a hoarse voice and then clears his throat. “
That’s
the one with the most coverage?”

I giggle slightly and then want to punch myself in the
throat for making such a stupid noise. “Yes I should probably invest in some
pyjamas.” He raises one eyebrow still staring hard at my breasts in the sheer
fabric. To my horror I can feel my nipples start to stiffen and I know that he
sees it because his eyelids lower and he runs his pink tongue across the
fullness of his lower lip. This time I do raise my arms and cross my arms
across my chest, and a faint smile crosses his mouth before it passes back into
the slight sad droop that it’s had all night.