She had my T-shirt on and a small crease between her brows that I knew from our holiday meant that she would wake with a headache from the alcohol. Her chest was rising and falling in peaceful slumber and her hair was absolutely all over the place. The most beautiful disaster I had ever laid eyes on.
I felt an ache deep in my gut at the thought of not seeing her again. It was very difficult to imagine, and I knew it would cause me untold pain.
We had got home at three in the morning, after approximately seven thousand beers, forced to drown our sorrows because the mighty Bombers got fucking smashed. A Collingwood fan had taken against me in the crowd and had called me a ‘fucking whingeing Pom’ at which Abbey (the most peaceful woman on earth) had taken offence.
‘Oi,’ she had said. ‘You shut your goddamned mouth.’
I’d looped an arm around my little Valkyrie and gently guided her to the bar.
We’d pub-crawled back to the hotel and then had a hell of a time trying to find the key. Abbey was pawing at my pockets and then fell over with her hand in the rear pocket of my jeans, taking me down as well. We both lay on the floor in the corridor, crying with laughter.
I eventually found it in my jacket pocket, picked her up over my shoulder and carried her in.
I put her down, and we just looked at each other and then she reached forward and kissed me. But her rules from earlier in the day and knowing how exposed her heart was made me attempt to slow her down. Her kisses though were forceful, urgent and needy – and don’t get me wrong – I want Abbey all of the time and I have not had enough sex in the last ten years for my cock not to be hard when this woman who I desire above all others is shoving her tongue down my throat and trying to get us both naked.
Not getting the response from me that she wanted, she pushed me away and then stripped off every layer she had on, standing there naked in front of me. When I didn’t move, she walked slowly towards me. She slid her hands into my hair.Fuck. This woman.
‘Baby,’ she whispered, pressing the full length of herself against me. She had never called me that before and it had my stomach turning and my cock twitching against my jeans. ‘I have needs, Nick.’
I smiled at that, and she gasped as I placed my icy hands on her waist. ‘Needs?’
She nodded at me and then my fucking little temptress licked her lips. I closed my eyes and let images flood my brain of the many, many ways I could satisfy her needs.
‘You were rather specific earlier today that it was not to happen, so I can’t let it, sweetheart. As much as I would like to take care of your, uh, needs.’
‘Urgh,’ she groaned into my neck. ‘It’s not fair for you to use that against me now. I know what I want.’
‘I’m not disrespecting Sober Abbey. Drunk Abbey is a flirty little minx.’
‘Only with you, baby.’
I swallowed the unexpected emotion that came over me when she said that. ‘Still. I’ll make you a deal. Once we both wake up and recover from the hangover that is sure to come, if Sober Abbey has needs and decides she would like my assistance, then I am her servant.’
She looked me in the eye – her eyes are the kind of blue artists would want to paint – and she bit down on her rosy full bottom lip. One last attempt at drunkenly seducing me.Fuck me if it wasn’t working. I could feel myself raring to go.
‘Fine.’ She sighed. ‘But I am going to sleep in your bed naked and press my arse into your cock all night and you are going to be hard and not be able to sleep.’
‘Fine,’ I said, deciding to live with the torture rather than cross the line.
I made her drink water before she went to bed and rummaged in her handbag for pre-emptive painkillers and found some,thank God. I climbed into bed, her arse pressed into my hard cock as promised. A few minutes later, she was still shivering from the cold, so I pulled my T-shirt off and put it over her head before resuming the tucked position we were in. Two question marks curled, the answer unspoken in the peace of the position.
‘Nick,’ she had whispered into the dark.
‘Yes?’
‘It wasn’t your fault, you know.’
‘What wasn’t my fault, Abs?’
‘Rebecca dying. Or your mum and dad dying. Or foster care. None of that was your fault. You did your best every single time, babe. There was nothing else you could have done. It wasn’t your fault, Nick. None of it.’
There she went, shining her light on my darkness. Offering me absolution, I desperately wanted to believe. I pulled her closer and cried silent tears into her hair before the alcohol forced me to sleep.
The sleep I have when Abbey is with me is peaceful and dreamless, the best sleep I have had since forever.
She finally woke, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine. I loved watching her wake up. She was snuggly and warm and liked cuddles and coffee in the mornings.
‘Hi,’ she said quietly.
