It was also the safest place I knew. There was a safe room, just because I knew too much from my time in the military, panic buttons and enough cameras to film an entire reality TV series without having to contract a single cameraman. It was unnecessary, or so I hoped, but for now, for keeping Claire safe, it was perfect.
I pulled up outside, glancing to see Claire’s expression as she saw the outside. The small garden at the front had recently been remodelled and the external paintwork redone. I was proud of it.
“What do you think?”
“It’s amazing. It’s a great location too. You’re near a couple of really good schools.” I raised my brows at the last comment, unsure as to why that was important right now. It wasn’t something I’d considered when I put my bid in for the property, given that my most serious relationship was with my hand at the time and I was pretty sure I didn’t have any surprise children about to pop up.
“Come see inside,” I said, grabbing her bags from the car and following her up the steps to the front door. I put them down as I used my thumbprint to release a key pad and entered a code.
“Keyless?” she said with a half laugh.
“Of course. I’ll add your print to it shortly.”
She entered slowly, looking at the pictures on the wall and the flooring. I’d had to completely gut the house, but I’d restored what I could of its period features, learning something about architecture and design on the way. And I’d kept it simple.
“This is amazing,” she said, walking through into the large open plan kitchen and reception room like Alice wandered into Wonderland. “You did well.”
“Come see the rest.”
We walked through each room and I gave her some of the history of the place, finding photos on my phone from when I first bought it, then during the work so she could see how it had changed. I took her to the biggest of the spare bedrooms, one of the spaces that was under decorated and contained just the basics, but it was next to the safe room.
“It would’ve made a better dressing room,” she said, opening her case. “The house is more secure than most prisons. I’m pretty sure you didn’t need a safe room.”
I shrugged. “Hopefully not. It could double up as a dressing room as well. Do you still have enough shoes to start an exhibition?” She’d once counted twenty-five pairs of shoes in her room at college. As a girl, she’d had a huge shoe obsession. I hated to think what it was like now.
“It wouldn’t be big enough for my shoes,” she said. “I really should get rid of some.” She sat down on the bed and looked exhausted. “Thank you, K.”
“What for?”
She gestured around her with her hands. “This. Everything. For not hating me.”
I didn’t go there. I had never hated her and I wasn’t going to get caught in an argument persuading her I hadn’t. “Claire, let me promise you something.”
“What?” She looked sceptically at me, always the pessimist.
“Everything is going to be okay. You are going to be happy. No matter what happens with your case or any cases after, you will be happy.” I sat down next to her, Claire shifting towards me as the mattress dipped slightly and I put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, needing her heat and needing to give her mine.
“How do you know that?” she said. “Have you suddenly started reading fortunes?”
I chuckled. “Not quite, but why wouldn’t you be happy when you’ve got your family and your friends and me in what every capacity that happens to be?”
She looked at her hands. “I know. I get that happiness is a choice and no one else can be responsible for it. It’s just been a busy day and it’s a lot to process.”
“So, stop trying to process it and just let it happen. You’re here for the night at least, we’re going out for dinner. Have a shower, a glass of wine and stop thinking.”
She smiled, her eyes glinting. “That’s what you used to tell me when I was worried about exams and essays. You had other ways to stop me from thinking. Successful ones.”
The air between us became thick, the things that hadn’t yet been said hanging in the air like fireflies that couldn’t be caught. “We knew a lot about each other,” I said, my voice thick and heavy.
Her hand went to my thigh, the touch simmering through my veins. I was twenty again and as nervous as the virgin I’d been at sixteen, in water deeper than I knew how to swim.
“We still do,” she said, her eyes looking up at me and my resilience broke. I leaned down and met her lips, aware that we were on a bed and had no reason to rush anywhere soon. The night was ours and we could use it however we wanted.
She tasted of coffee and chocolate; her lips soft and her touch hungry. The feel of her intoxicated me and made me an instant addict. My skin remembered hers, my cock remembering exactly how to respond and I pulled away, needing to breathe and remember that it was thirteen years later and we couldn’t be back where we were then.
She stayed close, her breath on my neck, her perfume enveloping me and I wasn’t sure why I stopped. “Now’s not the right time,” she whispered. “Not today after everything. I want you so badly but not after today, not for our second first time.”
“I know,” I said as she rested against my chest. I moved to surround her, knowing she had the physical support to strengthen her resolve. She’d always needed this and I hated the thought that she’d had years taking it from people other than me. Her family were wonderful and she’d always had them, but sometimes I knew more was needed. “I don’t know how we do this.”
