Six Naughty Nights: Love in Reverse, Book 2 (3 page)

Either way, he deserved to know the truth and to spend some time with his son. She sighed. “All right.” It came out grudgingly, and she winced as he frowned again. “I’m sorry. I’m exhausted and that wasn’t fair. Thank you for offering.”

“No worries.” He gave her a half smile. “I’m glad you waited for me.”

She couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Her insides tangled with varying emotions. She suspected she was in shock. A strong cup of coffee, something to eat, a shower and a good night’s sleep would help set her right. Then, maybe, she’d be able to deal with the physical and emotional upheavals she’d had that day.

Chapter Three

Relief swept through Toby that Esther had finally agreed to stay at his place. While helping survivors in the supermarket, he’d wondered whether she would decide not to wait for him. He still wasn’t sure how to deal with the unexpected news he’d received that day, but either way, he had to face up to it rather than look the other way. “Come on then,” he instructed her, turning to walk along the street.

She fell into step beside him. “Where do you live?”

“Not too far.” He noticed she was limping. “Are you okay to walk? Did you hurt your leg?”

“I fell awkwardly and bruised my hip. I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

She didn’t look fine. She looked in pain, but he knew she wouldn’t accept any help. He’d learned in the small amount of time they’d spent together three years before that she was fiercely independent.

Unless they were in the bedroom. Where sex was concerned, she’d shown a surprising penchant for being dominated. His lips curved at the memory of the first time he’d realised that in spite of her feisty nature in everyday life, nothing turned her on more than when he took control in bed.

They’d returned to his room one evening, slightly drunk after sharing a bottle of champagne, and had gone out onto the balcony to look at the view of the ocean. He only had eyes for her, though, and stood behind her, kissing her neck, his hands wandering over her body. She laughed as he unbuttoned her shirt, and although she protested somebody might see them, her protests weren’t vehement enough to make him think she minded that much.
 

Until a couple out on an evening walk appeared on the beach.

Esther exclaimed and, still giggling, tried to push him away, but she was braless beneath the shirt. The sight of the moonlight on her skin fired his blood, and lust swept over him. They hadn’t yet turned on any lights in the bedroom, and he knew they would be difficult to see from the beach.

He caught her shirt and tugged it down her back, locking her arms by her sides and baring her breasts to the moonlight. She gasped as he pinned her from behind against the balcony and slid a hand between them to push up her skirt and slide down his zipper. “Toby!” Her eyes were wide as she looked at him over their shoulder.

He hesitated, not wanting to misread the signs. “You want me to stop?” He wrapped an arm around her breasts and kissed her shoulder. The last thing he wanted was to take it too far.

She moistened her lips and met his gaze for a moment. To his surprise and delight, her eyes lit with excitement and she gave a little shake of her head. Heart racing, he dropped his arm and went on to take her there and then, in full view of anyone who might have cared to look up at them, although luckily there had been no more walkers on the beach. And she’d loved it, so much so that they’d spent the remainder of their holiday exploring variations on that theme. It had been the most fun he’d had in years.

He risked a glance at her. Almost every day since they’d parted, he’d thought about her and wondered what she was doing. He knew some of it now. Having his son, alone. She was aware roughly what area he lived in, what job he did. Had she tried to find him at all?
 

Although darkness was falling, the streets heaved with people, from emergency services trying to keep everyone safe to volunteers handing out blankets and food and finding places for the homeless to stay. Twice someone offered them a room in their house, but each time Toby turned them down kindly, and they plodded on, growing more tired with each step. Thank God it was late February, the height of summer. Going through all this in the depths of winter would have made everything twice as hard.

Her pace grew slower, and once she stumbled and Charlie cried at being jolted out of his doze. Without another word, Toby took a blanket from an aid worker and lifted Charlie out of Esther’s arms. She protested, but he ignored her, wrapping the boy up and keeping him tight to his chest. Ignoring his outstretched hand, she walked on, but she didn’t argue any further. Taking that as a victory, he led the way, trying not to notice that his son’s hair smelled of baby shampoo, in spite of the fact that dust had settled on it in a thick layer.

When they reached the line of apartments, he sighed with relief to find them still standing. The place heaved, most people opening their rooms to others who had nowhere to stay.

He led her up the stairs to his apartment and opened the door. She walked into the living room and stood in the centre, looking around in a daze. He locked the door behind them, still holding Charlie, who’d now roused.

“Quick shower,” he instructed, “just to get the worst off.” He went into the bedroom, and Esther followed him and sat on the bed. After walking through to the adjoining bathroom, he turned on the shower. “We’re going to clean you up, boyo,” he told Charlie.

“I stink,” Charlie said. “Pooh!”

Toby smiled. “Just like your Bear.”

“Yes.” Charlie giggled. “You stink too.”

“I do, thank you for pointing that out.”

“What’s your name?” The boy looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Toby swallowed. Too early to admit to Daddy. Besides which, he wasn’t sure what Esther would say about him telling Charlie the truth before she got a chance to.
 

“Toby,” he said.

Charlie’s face lit up. “Like in Thomas Tank!”

“That’s right.” Toby tested the water. It was supposed to be cool for kids, wasn’t it? Something about sticking your elbow in it, he seemed to recall. He bent his arm and let the water run over it, surprised to find it warmer there than on his hand, and turned the dial to make it cooler. “He’s number seven, if I remember correctly.”

“Yes.” Charlie seemed delighted that Toby knew what he was talking about. “And he has two coaches, Henr’etta and Victor’a.”

“You’ve got a good memory.”

“I can count up to umpteen,” Charlie stated.

“Wow, that’s ten more than me. You
are
clever.” Toby went back into the bedroom, saying, “Shower’s ready,” only to stop at the sight of Esther lying on the bed, fast asleep.

They both stared at her thoughtfully. Toby’s gaze lingered for a moment on her small form. Her beauty was obvious even beneath the dust, her curves evident beneath her grimy clothes. Her pants emphasised her tight butt and slender thighs. He could remember those legs wrapped around him, her back arching as he plunged into her.

He sighed and returned to the bathroom.

“Mummy’s asleep,” Charlie observed.

“Yep. She’s tired,” Toby said, wondering why he’d been left with the baby when he was the one who’d spent hours rescuing people out of the supermarket.

He studied the shower. Would it be weird if he got in with the boy? Would Esther report him to child services for being a pervert?

“Fuck it,” he said out loud. “You’re filthy, and if you get in by yourself you’ll probably fall over.”

“You said fuck.”

“Yes, thank you Mr. Observant. Clothes off.” He stripped and then tried to remove Charlie’s tiny T-shirt.

“Ow. My ear’s stuck.”

“Sorry.” It wasn’t as easy as it looked. He’d had remarkably little practice at dealing with kids. Oh, he’d played cars and trains and chased his niece and nephew around the garden, watched children’s TV shows with them and read them bedtime stories, but he’d always managed to hand them back to their parents when feeding or clothing issues arose.

Finally, however, they were both naked. Leaving Bear watching them on the sink, Toby got in, sat on the floor of the shower cabinet and helped the boy in. Charlie sat in front, facing him. “Here.” He gave Charlie the sponge to play with and squirted some shower gel onto it. “Scrub, scrub.”

“You scrub too. You’re
filthy.
” Clearly, his mother used the word to describe him a lot.

“You’re filthier than me.” He put a small amount of shampoo onto the boy’s curly hair and massaged it in.

“No, I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not!” Charlie beamed, delighted at the argument.

Toby smiled and rinsed the shampoo carefully, keeping it out of the boy’s eyes as much as he could. He suddenly realised the curly hair—like the brown eyes—matched his own, although the blond locks hadn’t yet darkened. This was his son. He caught his breath. He and Esther had made this little person. How amazing was that?

“You’ve got a big willy,” Charlie observed. “It’s bigger than mine.” He studied his own offering.

“Size isn’t everything, dude, or so they’d have us believe.” Toby took the sponge and cleaned the rest of the dust and grime from him. Had Esther dated many men since she’d had Charlie? Somehow, he thought not. And her dad had died. She’d told him in Fiji that her mother had died a few years before, and her father had taken it hard. It must have been difficult for her, bringing up the kid on her own.

“Mummy hasn’t got one.”

Toby chuckled. “No, that’s true.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, good grief.” He’d known the kid half a day and he was giving him the facts of life. “Can you wash my hair for me?” He squirted shampoo onto it and offered it to his son.

Charlie spent a few minutes clutching his fingers in and tugging at Toby’s hair, and then Toby rinsed them both and turned the shower off. He got out, dried himself quickly and pulled on his bathrobe, then got the boy out and towelled him off. Only then did he realise he didn’t have anything for Charlie to wear. “I don’t have any boy’s clothes,” he admitted. “Can you go to sleep like that?”

“In my birthday suit,” Charlie said.

Toby laughed. He had a vivid image of Esther prancing around his room in Fiji, suggesting that when they went out that night, she wear her birthday suit. “Okay. What about a nappy, do you wear one at night?”

Charlie blew a raspberry. “Nappies
suck.
”

“They do, you’re absolutely right.”

“
You
suck.”

“No,
you
suck.” Shushing the boy’s giggles, he manoeuvred him over to the toilet. “Can you pee standing up?”

“I need my step.”
 

“Ah.” Toby fetched a box from the bedroom and placed it under the toilet for Charlie to climb onto.

“Do you like Lego?” Charlie asked as he stared into the toilet.

“I love Lego.” It wasn’t a lie. Jeez, how long since he’d played with Lego? Did his mother still have all his old blocks in the garage?
 

That made him think about his parents. What would they say when they heard he had a son? What would the rest of his family say, and Dan and Rusty, his best mates? He wished he didn’t have to tell them. They’d make fun of him for not being careful, even though he’d never had sex without a condom—how
had
it happened, come to think of it? One of them must have split. Or they’d tease him about being a terrible father. He didn’t need to be teased—he already knew how crap he was going to be.

What a shame he couldn’t stay a few more weeks in Christchurch and keep the news to himself for a while longer, until he’d got to know the boy better and had grown used to the idea. But he’d booked the flights back, and Dan was getting married Saturday week. He and Rusty were joint best men, and he had to be there.

“I can make a huge car,” Charlie said.

“I’d love to see that.”

“Huger than this house.” Charlie spread his arms wide.

“Wow. That would take a lot of blocks.”

Charlie turned to look at him. “Huger than the moon!”

Toby moved the boy’s shoulders to face forward. “Rule number one, son—watch what you’re doing or it’ll go everywhere.”
 

When Charlie had finished, he helped him down and took him over to the sink to wash his hands.

“Bear’s still filthy.” Charlie pouted at the black toy.

“We’ll wash him tomorrow.” He held Bear over the shower tray and shook off the worst of the dust. He could remember protesting to his mother there was no way he could sleep without his toy. It would be pointless to make Charlie wait until Bear was clean. “Here you go.”

He led the boy into the bedroom and lifted him onto the bed. His muscles ached, but it was a good ache, and he didn’t regret the work he’d done that afternoon.

Charlie snuggled under the covers, talking softly to Bear. Toby hesitated. Should he wake Esther? Get her to move under the duvet? She looked very young lying there, her face relaxed in sleep. She could only be—what—twenty-three? Twenty-four? Women had children a lot younger than that. And yet she seemed too young for the responsibility she’d had to bear alone.