Sexy Summers (Sexy Series) (16 page)

I snuggle my coat around my face and feel the warm, salty tears spill over the bridge of my nose onto my knee. I'm so alone and I can't do anything about it until I tell Luke about the baby. I just wish I could pick up the phone and call my sister, tell her everything, tell her how much I need her and love her. I wish I could sit in Bea's living room with the girls, a Chinese take-away and Don Draper on TV, relaxing like we used to before I started avoiding it.

I wish I hadn't gone crazy at Luke back in the club, it's not his fault that I was getting carried away with wishful thinking, he's always been open and honest about his lifestyle and I knew it well, I should have just
remembered that, before getting so comfortable in his company.
Sod this for a game of soldiers, pregnant emotional shit sucks, incredible orgasms or not
.

I listen to the footsteps and commotion all around me, clicky stilettos, the clonking of boots amongst the buzz of voices, it's quite calming - I can imagine this to be how a baby hears the world, from inside the womb. There's one noise that stands out though, and it's definitely boots, the rhythm is familiar, the depth of the noise, specific. It stops, right by me. I know who it is without even looking up. He has come to find me, and I need to apologise. I should hide my tears and pretend to be emotionally stable but I just don't care, the fatigue is too much and I can't do it, I can't act anymore.

I don't even bother to look up when he sits next to me and effortlessly lifts my curled body onto his lap. He puts one arm around me, the other hand resting on my head, and I sink into his warm, welcome body.

"You don't have to tell me what the problem is. You don't have to make me jealous - I can feel that way on my own. You don't have to
be
jealous - no one else does anything for me but you, and lastly, you don't have to be sad. Whatever it is, if you want to tell me, go ahead, if not? That's fine too, but know that I'm here; you're not alone, you're loved and cared for, more than you know, Tilly." His tone is warm and caring, but his words tip me over the edge of this emotional roller coaster, and I begin to sob against his chest.

"I... I'm... I..." I attempt to speak, a brief stutter of the word 'I' clearly all a twenty seven year old pregnant lunatic with psychotic tendencies can manage. 

"Shh, I know there's more to it than what happened in there - when you're ready, you can tell me."

I wrap my arms tightly around his middle, thoroughly appreciative of his understanding. This man's parents must be pretty incredible people, to raise such an impeccably perfect human being, I do hope that they will feature in our child's life.

"Ah, the fur-ball has arms!" he says, cheerfully - making me smile.

"I'm sorry," I manage.

"Til, don't. You had reasons for what you said, I don't know what they are, but I know they are there and are valid. There's nothing going on with me and Lex, you know, we're as close as brother and sister; I tease her for being prudish and dorky, she tries to give back in return. We just don't see each other that way, Til, she's too straight-laced for me, and I'm too much for her. She likes quiet, submissive, typewriter types. Does that help clear it up?"

I nod - sniffing, my chest convulsing. It makes sense; Daniel and Luke are so close, he probably would be close with his sister, too. She doesn't look like a dork, she's gorgeous - in fact, and stylish, elegant, sophisticated...
Oh god, I'm remembering why I don't like her.
But I can see how she might have a few nerdy tendencies. I'm not even sure all of this was about her anyway - it was more the realisation that I've let myself get too far with a playboy, panic about his reaction to the news, and having no idea what the future holds for Wriggler and I.

"Do you want to go home, Princess?" he asks, brushing his chin against my hair. I simply nod against his chest, thinking how nice it would be, to be tucked up in bed right now, naked and warm in Luke's arms. I know everything he just said points to the reasoning that he isn't shagging other girls, but that doesn't mean we'll ever have anything more than another holiday fling.

"I'll call the car," he says as he stretches back to try and manoeuvre his mobile from his pocket.

"Actually, Luke, could we walk for a bit? I know it's freezing but I'd like to get some fresh air and then collapse in bed when I get home. It's not far is it?"

"No, about fifteen minutes or so. Will you be okay in your heels, baby?" he asks, surprising me, he's actually thinking of my inappropriate footwear.

"Uh huh," I nod, sniffing, still tightly pressed against his chest, "I'll be fine. If it gets too snowy, you can carry me until it's clear again."

"Sounds like a plan, shall we go now or aren't you done loving me yet?" he asks, and I giggle, although he's hit the nail on the head;
no, Luke, I'm not, but I have to be.

"
We can go," I say, straightening my legs out and turning to slide off his lap. As we both stand, he holds me in his arms and looks down at my face.

"Look at me," he says, his voice gentle, yet firm.

I do as he asks, trying to forget that I probably look scary as hell from all the crying.
Holy crap, you need to get a grip, all this crying... it's weird.

He gently places both of his cold hands on my face and droops his head to lay a soft, simple kiss on my lips. He pulls back again and smiles at me, brushing my cheek with his thumb, staring deep into my eyes. "Okay?" he whispers.

I return his sweet smile and nod, wondering how on earth I will ever stop loving this beautiful man.

"Let's go." He reaches down to take my hand and slips the other in his pocket as we start the walk back to the house. It's a gentle, easy, calming stroll. The evening crisp and chilly, but so peaceful, even with the cars passing and people having fun around us. We don't talk, we just hold each other's hand and amble towards home, Luke occasionally lifting me effortlessly into a cradle-like embrace to avoid snowy patches, giving me a wonderful opportunity to study the face I seem to know better than my own.

When we enter the house, I kick my shoes off by the door and Luke follows, before lifting me again, and carrying me up the stairs to his room. He deposits me gently on the end of the bed, and immediately switches on his en-suite light, pulling the bathroom door to a little, and turning the main bedroom light off. He opens his curtains and the balcony door, before returning to me - not saying a single word - and lifts me to my feet.

The room is very dimly lit and romantic. He slips my coat off my shoulders, throwing it on the chair, and he grabs the bottom of my blouse, lifting it up - prompting me to raise my arms so that he can slip it off with ease. I should be covering up, I should be hiding the bump, but I see little point. He'll know tomorrow, anyway. It feels good to let go a little, hiding is so tiring. From the front, in this dim light - it's probably not even visible.

He steps back and removes his own jacket and shirt, slowly unbuttoning, one at a time. The sprinkling of light from the bathroom catching his tanned, ripped torso.
Amazing
. I undo my own fly, slipping my jeans down my legs, leaving me standing at the end of the bed in my black lacy underwear; the cold breeze from the balcony causing goose-pimples to spread rapidly over my bare skin.

Luke walks over to his drawers and opens two of them. When he returns, he turns me and unclasps my bra, gently pulling it from my body, before slipping one of his huge t-shirts over my head. I put my arms through and turn back to him, standing before me in jeans, his hat and nothing else.

"Sit down for a minute," he whispers, and as I do, he sinks to his knees on the floor, and lifts one of my legs. I smile as I see the big, warm ski socks in his hands as he gently holds my calves, one at a time, sliding the socks on. I don't think a man has ever put my socks on before, certainly not a hot, semi-naked cowboy. And just for a moment I can imagine him taking care of me when I'm big and fat and round - waddling about, ready to pop. I can see him as the doting husband, worrying about his wife, the devoted dad, tending to his baby... the perfect Luke, the one I could spend forever with, the one who wants to spend forever with me.

He stands again, once my feet are socked, and walks around the bed to turn it down. "Climb in, Princess," he says, his voice a gentle murmur. I tilt my head ever so slightly and look up at his face, wondering why he's being so gentle and calm, instead of ripping my clothes off and fucking me against some piece of furniture somewhere, as is the norm for us. I stand and walk over to him, pausing to look up into his eyes and I smile a little, before curling myself in a ball in his bed. It smells like us.

He walks back around to his side of the bed and I hear his belt unbuckle. I turn to face him and watch as he takes his trousers down, unveiling those mouthwateringly muscular thighs. He slips into the bed next to me and prompts me to raise my head so he can slide his arm beneath me. I snuggle into his warm flesh, my hands and cheek pressed up against his chest, his other arm wrapped tightly around me.

"What's happening?" I ask, quietly.

"We're going to bed..." he whispers.

"You're not going to flip me into a crazy position and fuck me senseless until we both collapse?"

He chuckles and squeezes me a bit tighter. "Not tonight, baby. You're tired, I'm tired, and after what happened at the club, I want to show you that there's so much more to how I feel for you, than sex. We don't need to fuck like rabbits for me to want to be with you, and I think you need me to demonstrate that."

Oh my good holy man above, he's getting deep - Luke,
Mr. Light-hearted Funny Man - is actually showing me his 'husband material' side. Well I never. And where exactly is he going with this? Appeasing my emotional instability so I don't go off on one again? Telling me he could be falling for me, too?

"Oh, okay. You could just tell me that and then shag me silly... I still owe you a blowy." I say, making light of it.

"I could, but I won't. I wouldn't feel like you'd truly believe me if I did that. Anyway - not everyone has amazing sex all day long you know, maybe we should start trying to be a bit more normal."

"No way!" I cry, swatting his chest with my fingertips, "I love our crazy sex schedule! While we're here and can, I'd like to stick to it, thanks..."

He laughs again before responding, "Okay, we'll continue to be abnormal, woodland creature types. But not tonight, I just want to sleep with you and hold you; take care of my Princess."

His Princess?
Here we are again with the '
his
' thing. Have I missed an important conversation here? Does he see me as his girlfriend or what? Am I
his
because I'm currently his fuck buddy? No, that makes no sense. God, ending this and telling him about being prego is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. I so desperately want to keep him, but this is all just so temporary, as all fuck-buddy relationships are.

"Okay, Lukey, whatever you say." I try to forget about everything, I'll just enjoy this calm before the storm. "Anyway - why did you leave the balcony door open?" I ask, curiously.

"I love the cold night air here, especially when we're warm inside; it's cosy. And I want you to seek my body for warmth when you sleep, I want you to get cold, and reach for me. That way, I can keep a tight hold of you all night."

Oh my god, I think I need to cry again.
Hold it in, wuss, don't you dare.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

SUNDAY 23RD DECEMBER

Wriggler's moving... really moving, I can feel it so undoubtedly, and it has woken me up! I have read enough pregnancy books to know that this isn't that common, but I remember Gemma telling me that she felt Jack partying around in there really early on, too.

I stir more thoroughly to find myself spooning with Luke, his shallow, short breaths on my neck, his body pressed tightly against mine and our legs tangled together. His hands... his hands are...
oh my god,
they're there. He's touching it, he's holding her...oh my god, his large hands are totally covering my belly, the t-shirt scrunched up around my ribs.

I lie totally still, wondering what to do... if I wake him, he'll consciously feel it, if I don't and go back to sleep, he might wake first and then notice. She moves again, it's like I have a little lizard in there or something, exploring the wonders of my insides. Maybe she knows... maybe she can feel him...
Daddy
.

I picture his handsome face laying behind me on the pillow; his happy smile, his gorgeous dimples... dazzling blue eyes.
He's
the father of my baby. This beautiful man and I,
together
, made a tiny little life; the miniature person growing inside of me is a part of
him.
I still find the thought of it totally incredible, and somehow, the fact that his body has been able to give this precious bundle to me, makes me love him all the more, with all of my heart. Yet he still has no idea about any of it.

I continue to lie here, letting Wriggler indulge in the unknown attention of her dad, letting myself fantasise about how it could be. It feels so good, I wish I could stay like this all day, without even having to tell him anything. The cool breeze from the open balcony sweeps over our entwined bodies and I appreciate his want to hold me and keep me warm.

"Be with me..." His sleepy slur startles me, he's awake. I spin, quickly, turning to face him and cuddle into his front. His hands quickly settle on my bum and he pulls me closer, his eyes still closed and a slight smile on his face. Then I realise what he said. '
Be with him...
' Is he actually awake? Does he know he said that?

I snuggle against him and close my eyes, assuming he's asleep and talking gobbledegook. He's so warm and safe, his skin is so soft, I could never get tired of this.

"Hmm?" he asks, nudging me, squeezing a buttock.

I snap my head up to look at his face, his eyes are half open, a smile plays on his lips. "What?" I ask, wondering what's happening.

"Be with me... will you?" he says it again.

"I am with you..."

"You know what I mean. Will you be with me? Be mine? You know, the big 'g' word?" he says as the smile on his face grows.

I frown, "You mean your girlfriend?" I ask, stunned. He's actually asking me to be
with
him?

"Like, duh... yes, my girlfriend, I want to try being together, we make such a hot couple," he says, winking.

I push back from his chest and rest up on my elbow, looking at his face in disbelief. "You're serious? You want to be my boyfriend?"

"Wouldn't be more serious if I broke a fibula."

"But... you're... we're..."

"I'm a bad-boy, you live in England... all that shit?"

"Well... yeah?" I answer, in shock.

"Well, to start, being a bad-boy doesn't have to change - I know you love it," he grins, "but I can and have changed aspects of it. The women to start with. I have no interest in other women, Til, who could want more when they have you?" I can think of someone, but Scott and Luke are so different, it's not even a factor. "And, so you live in England? So what? We're not Danny and Bea, we can do long distance, can't we?
You come to LA to see your sister - you can come to see us both. I can come to London as often as I can to see you and hang out with Danny... we can talk every day and video call...
that
could be
good,
" he says, emphasising that last word with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "So, I don't see why we can't try, and if it works out, maybe you'll come and live in LA one day. You said you'd like to, back in September."

Oh my good god. I can't quite believe this. He wants to be with me. And it seems he has it all worked out. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

"Since you left LA, but I thought I wouldn't see you again, back then. So, when I found out we'd be here together for the holidays, I thought maybe there's a chance that we could try."

"Luke, I... I don't know what to say... You really want to give up your women?"

"I already have. I'll be honest with you, though, Til, after you left, when we left it as 'over' - I tried getting back to my old life."

"Okay... so tell me, what happened?" I want to know, it might hurt - but his honesty is really important to me, if we're ever going to try to be something...

"Okay. Well, I went after a girl... a lady. I did the usual - flirted, got her back to her place... and, well," he closes his eyes and grimaces, "I tried to fuck her."

I purse my lips and inhale, sharply. It hurts like a motherfucker. I can't be cross with him though, and surprisingly, I don't feel any hostility towards him at all, we weren't an item and had planned never to see each other again. Still hurts though. "Okay..."

He pushes up on his elbows and leans forward to kiss my neck, apologetically. "It was bad. I really needed to clear my head and that's how I've always done it. But it wouldn't work Til, I couldn't get it up." He looks at me with a horrified expression on his face. "It's the first time that's ever happened to me before. I didn't want her, I wanted you. I tried to think about you, because that was sure to make him stand to attention, but my mind wouldn't let me, every time I tried to picture your naked body in front of me, I kept seeing her, and it did nothing for me. It got awkward."

"Oh, shit... what did she say?"

"Well, I told her the truth. She only wanted fun and wasn't interested in anything more, so she was okay about it. In fact, she was very sweet, told me to come get you and never let you go."

Wow. This is bizarre, I'm actually feeling affectionately towards this woman who got naked with the love of my life.

"Okay. Well, that was honesty. Thank you. And I have to say, it pleases me that you can't get it up for anyone else... your meat is mine!" I say, giggling, trying to ease his worry about telling me.

"You're okay about that?"

"Well I can't say it makes me happy to think of you kissing and getting intimate with someone else..." I have to pause and shake the image from my head, "but I understand that it happened when we weren't doing anything together. We weren't even in contact then. And you didn't dip it in."

He laughs and pulls me down on his chest. 'No. I didn't. And I'm glad the 'problem' occurred, because I'd hate to have slept with someone else. I probably wouldn't have been able to go through with it, even if I had managed to get a woody. But I can tell you, every time I thought of you after that - I had no problem picturing your sweet-ass body and getting hard as nails. So..." he pauses briefly and continues softly, "how about you? Wanna tell me anything?"

He makes me smile; he's jealous. "No. I don't want to tell you anything."

"Oh. Well that's okay."

"Because there is nothing, Luke. I haven't done anything with anyone else, since you."

"Oh thank god. I couldn't bear that. So, what do you think? Wanna be my girl?"

I smile and stroke his face. "More than anything." That's not strictly true, more than anything - I want him to want to be a dad to our baby, but in light of these most recent events, I think I'll give it a little longer, let us get used to our new status, maybe he'll want me too much to leave. At least I know, if he does want the baby, that he's not with me just for that reason. My god, I hope he takes the news well, I can't lose him after this.

"But as much as I love having you as my boyfriend, I'm afraid I have to leave you. I am desperate for the loo."

He chuckles and swats my bum, releasing me, "Go pee, but you better come back here and show me what a good girlfriend you are."

"Totally," I say with an excited giggle, and kick back the covers to make my way to the en-suite.

Afterwards, we lay in bed together, wrapped in each other for a while before making long, sweet, incredible love. It feels so good to be able to call him my man for real, whilst having him worship my body the way he does. Of course I avoid any positions that show off my naked belly, but it's still amazing none-the-less.

We get out of bed at about eight, I hadn't realised it was so early but I'm glad we had time for all of this
morning’s activities; I had completely forgotten that today is the day that Luke is taking me out with his friends, Matt and Queenie.   I seem to have some memory problems at the moment - must be another pregnant thing. I can't wait to see him in action on the slopes, it's going to be so hot. Luke throws on his tracksuit bottoms and we head downstairs for breakfast. I'm still wearing his t-shirt and socks, but I'm decent.

As we approach the bottom of the stairs, holding hands, we slow as we see the carnage before us.
Crikey!

"Wow, guess we missed a great night!" Luke says amused.
We stroll slowly over the centre of the living room where we find bottles and bottles of champagne all over the place, glasses knocked over, packets of crisps everywhere. Bea and Daniel are fast asleep together on one sofa, wrapped in each other, Bea with one hand pressed on the centre of Daniel's face, squashing his nose. It's a hilarious picture.

We find Clare and Oliver passed out on the floor in front of the fireplace, they're not hugging or anything, they're laying in opposite directions, but their heads are together, up close to each other and Oliver has his arm stretched in front of him, alongside Clare's body. Alexia is hanging off another sofa on her front, and a man I vaguely recognise from last night is fast asleep, sitting on the floor, his head resting on Alexia's thigh.

"How long do you think they've been asleep? And who's he?" I ask, amused by this comical scene. This would have been me, back in the pre-Wriggler days, and now look, Miss Sophisticated herself; Alexia, hanging head first off the sofa, her hair a crazy mess, crisps stuck to her clothes and a strange man dribbling on her thigh.

Clare and Bea are just as bad, I think I can even hear Bea snoring. They're going to feel like shit when they wake up.

"Not long by the looks of it, and this is Seb - a friend of mine. Let's take some pictures and leave them to it. Great blackmail material." He gets his phone from his pocket and starts to snap a few shots of the hilarious scene. I bet Alexia will hate this!

We laugh again and make our way to the kitchen where the loyal Pam is slaving away, whisking up a pancake batter.

"Morning beautiful," Luke says, smoothly.

"Good morning, you two. Wow, considering the scene in there, you look surprisingly fresh."

"Yeah, we came home early, last night. We're responsible like that."

"You just can't keep your hands off each other..." she sighs, "young love... breakfast?"

"Yes please." I say, excited about whatever Pam has in store for us today, ignoring the 'love' comment.

"I have been pre-briefed by Daniel that Miss Hart likes pancakes and strawberries, so I'm making chocolate chip pancakes with Maple syrup and fruit salad, and bacon and eggs. You can help yourselves once I finish the pancakes.

"Sounds amazing, thank you." I respond.

"My girlfriend here got that right, it sounds damn good. Thanks Pammy." He looks at me and winks, his excited smile the cutest thing I've ever seen.

We eat the delicious breakfast together and as I finish up, Luke waiting patiently beside me, his hands on my thigh, Clare stumbles into the kitchen looking horrendous. "Oh dear god..." she says, putting her hand to her forehead, steadying herself as she loses her balance. Luke's rushes over to her and holds her arms to guide her over to the stool next to me at the breakfast bar.

"Here, sit there." he says, picking her up and putting her down on it.

She grabs hold of his shoulders in surprise, "wha-oa!"

I giggle, it's so funny to see her like this, Clare
never
gets a hangover. "Not well, chicken?" I ask sympathetically, and she whimpers in response, leaning forward to drop her forehead on my shoulder. I stroke her hair and giggle again. "Oh, poor Clare."

"What is this? Horrible... just horrible... do I have a bug?" she mumbles, amusingly.

Luke steps over and rests his hands on her shoulders, gently massaging, looking at me and smiling in amusement.

"Oh... ohhh..." Clare moans, "Never... ever, ever stop. I think I love you more than she does right now..."

Oh my god... we haven't quite got to that bit yet!
Luke simply looks at me with a huge grin and a raise of his eyebrows.

"No, doll, you don't have a bug. This is what we call a minging hangover, Clare, and you're suffering for once. But you have probably only had about two hours sleep; if you drink a bucket load of water and tuck yourself into bed, you'll feel much better later," I say, feeling for her.