The Forbidden, Page 33

  Jack guides me into the bathroom and flicks on the shower. I hate myself for it, but I have to sit on the toilet seat while he starts collecting towels. I’m exhausted from that short, leisurely stroll from one end of my apartment to the other. He doesn’t miss my movement, raising knowing eyebrows at me that I choose to ignore, as I start to remove my T-shirt. I lose sight of him when I pull it over my head, and when I win the sight of him back, he’s removed his own T-shirt. I smile at his abs, his chest, his downright stunning torso. And I sigh.

  I drop my T-shirt to the floor as Jack unfastens his jeans. Slowly. Then pushes them down his thick thighs. Slowly. He’s purposeful and means to be. Things happen between my legs that haven’t happened for a long while.

  “I’ll wash you down.” His jeans hit the floor. “Up for it?”

  I fly up from the toilet seat. And yelp. “Fuck!” I drop back down and grab the sink, breathing through the pain.

  “Annie!” Jack’s kneeling before me in the blink of an eye, assessing my condition. “Take it easy.”

  My cheeks puff out as I exhale, looking up at him. “Ouch,” I murmur pitifully.

  “Okay. No outing. It’s too soon. And no joint shower.”

  I growl and grab his hair, yanking him forward threateningly. “You’re coming in!” I hiss. “And then you’re taking me out.”

  “Fuck, Annie!” He chuckles as he reaches up to pry my clawed fingers away. “Okay, okay.”

  “Good.” I go back to breathing, cool and controlled. “Sorry for being so insistent.”

  Jack laughs, a proper belly laugh. It’s like music to my ears. “I look forward to a lifetime of insistence, gorgeous.” He rises before me, offering his hand. “Ready?”

  I take his hand and let him gently ease me up and strip me of my shorts, knickers, and bra before directing me patiently to the shower. “What do you expect when you brandish that body, anyway?” I ask, hearing him chuckle. “And look at me like that. And speak to me in that tone. And say those things.”

  “I’ll keep my mouth shut.” He gently turns me at the shower bench and helps me down. “And keep my clothes on,” he adds.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I object. That would be a travesty.

  My butt meets the wood of the shower bench and I grimace, hating needing it. I was hoping today would be the day I’d be able to stand while I have a shower. “I feel like an invalid,” I grumble, watching Jack drop to his knees before me.

  “You are,” he points out, making my face screw up more. He takes the sponge and wets it under the spray, adding some shower gel. He clasps my ankle and gently lifts, keeping a cautious eye on my face for any hints of pain. “You good?” he asks, just to be sure, and I nod. “Good.” He starts soaping me down. “Want me to shave your legs?”

  I look down at my legs, reaching to smooth up my skin. I’ve been trying to shave, but with limited movement comes limited reach. “Please.” I can’t believe we’re at this place in our relationship already, but Jack’s completely unperturbed by the task and happily fetches the razor and starts gently running it up my leg in precise, gentle strokes. “Our love has reached a whole new level,” I muse to myself, seeing his mouth stretch into a smile as he carries on with his self-appointed job.

  “Our love is the greatest kind, Annie.” He finishes up and washes the remnants of soap away, running his palms down my legs to check his handiwork. “Perfect,” he says, looking up at me. I suspect he’s not talking about how good a job he’s done of shaving my legs. He’s talking about our love.

  I reach forward and feel his bristly jaw. “Perfect,” I counter.

  He turns his mouth into my hand and kisses it gently, breathing in and closing his eyes. “I love you.”

  I inch forward on the bench, wanting to get closer to him. He’s having none of it, holding me back. “I want to hold you.”

  “Then I’ll come to you.” He walks forward on his knees and places his hands on my thighs, looking at me for an okay. I open my legs in reply and reach for his shoulders, pulling him in and constricting my thighs as much as my body will allow before it hurts. “Careful,” he warns, his wet chest meeting mine, my face sinking into his neck, his face into mine. We both hum. “God, that feels good,” he sighs.

  It so does. Warm. Comforting. Right. We stay there for ages, locked together, enjoying the first proper cuddle we’ve had in too long. Nothing hurts me. I have no space for anything other than appreciation. I could stay here forever, so content in his arms, so when he starts to break away, I grumble and cling to him even more tightly.

  “I thought you wanted to brave the big, wide world,” he says, nudging my face from his neck with some determined effort.

  “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s just stay here.”

  “Forever?”

  “Yes.”

  He laughs. “Someone’s decisive today. How about I promise to hold you all night long?”

  “As opposed to lying on the edge of the bed as far away as possible from me?”

  “I was afraid I’d knock you in my sleep.” He pushes himself up and retrieves the shampoo.

  “I feel better after five minutes of you holding me than I have after six weeks of being static.”

  He pauses with the bottle upside down, looking at me. I shrug. It’s the truth. He has a healing touch. “Then I’ll hold you all night,” Jack declares.

  “What about tomorrow night?”

  “And then, too.”

  “And the next night?”

  “Annie, I’m going to hold you every night for the rest of our lives together.” His hands come to my dark hair and massage, working it up into suds. “And I’ll be thankful every minute that I can.”

  I fall into total bliss, feeling Jack’s hands working tenderly through my hair, like he could be handling the most fragile of things. I guess right now he is. “You must be sick of seeing me looking such a wreck,” I sigh. I’ve forgotten what makeup is, and I’ve been in slobby clothes for weeks.

  “You look beautiful every day,” he says, simple as that. “Be quiet.”

  I obey and let him take care of me, having to keep my eyes closed. His naked lower stomach is at perfect eye level, and if I drop my eyes a little, something else. I know I’m not ready for that, so taunting myself would only add to my fading pain.

  “Up you come.” Jack slips his arm around my waist and lifts. “Easy.”

  I wince and hiss and ooh my way up, after just a few minutes on my arse. I begrudgingly admit that I have a way to go yet until I’m fighting fit. “Thank you.”

  He doesn’t acknowledge my graciousness, being quick to wrap me in a towel and help me to the sink. I look at myself in the mirror. I look pasty. Beautiful every day? I scoff and reach for my packet of contraceptive pills, popping one out and bringing it to my mouth.

  But the tablet doesn’t make it past my lips.

  Because Jack’s palm is wrapped around my wrist, hindering me from putting it there. I look at him in the reflection of the mirror, my eyebrows pinching in the middle. What’s he doing?

  “How about you don’t take that,” he says quietly, observing me carefully for my reaction.

  I’m thunderstruck. Does he mean…? “Then I’ll likely fall pregnant when you finally give in to my need to have you ASAP.”

  His lips twist a little in amusement, still holding my wrist firm. “Like I said, how about you don’t take that.” He tips my hand to the side, and the pill tumbles from my palm and falls into the sink. I look down, watching as it rolls around the drain a few times before disappearing down the black hole. The pill is gone, but I still stare at the porcelain of the sink, trying to wrap my mind around what he’s suggesting.

  “Jack, I don’t need you to—” His finger meets my lips and hushes me, his body moving in close to mine.

  “I’m not trying to make things right, Annie. Not with a baby, anyway. And I’m not trying to replace the one we’ve lost.” The mention of my miscarriage stings terribly, and he must no
tice because he encases my cheeks with his big palms and brings my face close to his. “I want to build a life with you,” he says softly. “I feel like I’ve waited forever to feel like this.” His thumbs caress my cheeks, and I close my damn eyes when tears pinch the backs of them. Jack kisses each of my lids in turn, so tenderly. “I want to make babies with you, Annie. Hundreds of them.” I sniff back my emotion. “I want to look at you every day and smile, because I picked you to be the mother of my children. Because I know if I’m to have it all, then I should have it all with you.” I open my eyes and sink into the gray depths of Jack’s. The sadness that was lingering there: it’s nearly gone. “You are my all, Annie Ryan.” He kisses my forehead sweetly. “No more pills.” His kiss tells me so much. It tells me he’ll protect me. It tells me he’ll always be there for me. And it tells me that however wrong people think my choices have been, they were the right choices for me. And for Jack.

  “Just give me time,” I whisper.

  “As much as you need.” He pulls back, a small grin on his face, one that I can’t help but mirror. “I can do condoms. I just need you to know I’m ready when you are.”

  “Okay,” I agree easily, as simple as that. Because I also know that if I am to have a child at all, then it should be with Jack. I stare into the gray eyes of a man who was forbidden. A man who should never have been touched. A man who wasn’t mine. “I draw the line at four babies,” I murmur. His smile. God, his smile. It’s bright, almost dazzling, and it’s pouring with hope and love. The biggest piece of my broken heart slides back into place. Jack’s smile symbolizes our life. And the lives of our children. It symbolizes happiness. And freedom.

  “I want six.”

  I ignore the searing pain that bombards me when I throw myself at him. “I love you,” I sob like a fool into him. “I love you so much.”

  “Thank you.” He holds me like I would collapse if he releases me. I would, but not with pain or exhaustion. I’d collapse with a happiness that’s almost too intense to comprehend. Like most things I have with Jack. “Come on, then. I’m taking you out.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.” He drops a kiss on my nose and releases me gingerly. “Want some help getting dressed?”

  “What am I wearing?”

  He takes my hand and leads me to my wardrobe, then proceeds to flick through my rails of clothes. “This.” Jack pulls out an oversized Ralph Lauren shirt. “With these.” And some skinny jeans. So nowhere fancy, then?

  Slowly and carefully, he helps me get dressed and oversees me applying the first bit of makeup I have in weeks. “My hair?” I ask, frowning at my mane. It could do with a cut and color.

  He pulls the hair-tie off my wrist and gathers up my long dark hair, securing it in a messy ponytail.

  “Perfect.”

  I wouldn’t say that, but it’s an improvement on the ragged mess I’ve been sporting since finding myself in hospital. “And my feet?”

  “Something comfortable.” He rests his big, strong palms on my shoulders and massages lightly for a few, pleasurable moments.

  I close my eyes and soften under his touch. “That feels nice,” I sigh.

  “Come on, before you fall asleep.” Leaving me at the mirror, he pulls some jeans on and a T-shirt over his head. “Ready?”

  I nod, slip my feet into my Converse, and frown at my untied laces. Jack’s kneeling in front of me, taking care of it, before I can even try to bend down. I smile down at the back of his head, feeling grateful instead of useless. His care. His attention. It’s easy to accept, because it’s Jack.

  Chapter 30

  I suspect I know where we’re heading when Jack gets us out of the city, but I keep quiet, happy to let him take charge of where we’re going and what we’re doing. It’s something I never dreamed I would be content with: letting someone else look after me. It just feels right, not because I’m an invalid at the moment and can’t carry out the simplest of tasks, but because it’s how we are supposed to be. His hand remains tightly held around mine in my lap for the entire journey, my head relaxed back as I stare at him, take him in, try to come to terms with the fact that he is mine. All of him. He wants it all, and he wants it all with me. Despite my lingering pain, physically and emotionally I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life. And it’s all because of this man. This beautiful, wonderful man.

  The final turn Jack takes confirms I was right about where we’re going. “My parents’?” I ask as Dad’s Jaguar comes into view, shiny as ever on the driveway. “What are we doing here?”

  “Visiting,” Jack says, simple as that, as he pulls up outside my mum and dad’s house.

  Visiting? When I asked to be let out into the big wide world, I was thinking a bit farther than my parents’ house. Unclipping my belt, I wait for Jack to open my door and help me out, forcing back my hiss of pain as I rise from my seat. He curls an arm around my waist and walks me up the path to the front door. Mum, as always, answers before we can knock. She has a tea towel in her hand, a smile on her face.

  “Annie, darling.”

  “Hi, Mum.” I let her claim me from Jack and hug me, and boy, does she hug me. “Not so tight.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry! It’s just so good to see a bit of life in you.” She helps me into the hallway, and the usual, homey scent of Mum’s cooking fills my nostrils. And the sound of voices fills my ears.

  “Who’s here?” I ask as we shuffle toward the kitchen, Jack following. Mum doesn’t answer, and instead diverts us into the dining room.

  “Everyone, darling.”

  I stop at the doorway and take in the small space, and everyone quiets down and looks in my direction. Lizzy with Jason, Micky with Charlie, my dad and Nat. The first thing that comes to mind is Mum will be in her element with all these people to faff over. The second thing I think is What are they all doing here? I raise a wary hand in a lame hello, and then turn to Jack and give him questioning eyes.

  He just smiles, takes my hand, and leads me to the table, where a chair is waiting for me. Easing me down, he bends and kisses my cheek. “They’ve promised not to fuss over you.”

  I laugh, a little nervous, and watch as Mum hands Jack an apron. He doesn’t question it, accepting and slipping it on. “You’re helping Mum?”

  “Apparently.” He shrugs and heads off to the kitchen, leaving me pretty astounded. Mum’s letting Jack help?

  I look across to my dad, who shrugs. “Is she okay?” I ask seriously. She has a way with everything. Especially in the kitchen. Her way.

  “She wants to bond with that new fella of yours.” Dad shrugs.

  Micky laughs, and I look across to find his arm draped casually around Charlie’s shoulders. “Poor Jack.”

  Bond. She wants to bond. The notion is deeply warming, given the circumstances of them discovering everything about Jack. The fact that she’s invited him into her kitchen is a huge deal, and her way of accepting him. But visions of Mum’s panicked face when Jack fails to do things to her liking fill my mind. “He’ll be kicked out within ten minutes,” I conclude.

  “Five,” Dad counters on a grunt. “He’ll run out screaming in five minutes.” He looks down at his watch, checking the time.

  I laugh and relax a little, but my hurting muscles tense when Nat and Lizzy head my way, encouraging Charlie to join us. Nat brings a bottle of wine with her and pours four healthy glasses. She passes one to each of us.

  Charlie is the one to toast. “To true love.”

  I shoot her a look, and she smiles.

  “True love,” Lizzy echoes, her eyes flicking to Jason at the other end of the table, where all the boys, bar Jack, are gathered. Dad pulls out the playing cards and declares war.

  “True love,” I say quietly, hearing Jack in the kitchen taking instructions from Mum.

  “Whatever!” Nat snorts, rolling her eyes as she dives headfirst into her wine. “So.” She places her fingers on the bottom of my wineglass and encourages me to drink.
“Tell us about this new bloke of yours.”

  And just like that, I know they’re not going to drown me in sympathy. They’re not going to ask questions, dig for more information, or make me feel like I’m under the spotlight. Instead, they’re going to act like the nightmare last few months never happened. They’re going to act like Jack and I are normal. Like we met under normal circumstances. Like there has been no misery and heartache. I give them thankful eyes, and they all smile in return.

  Jack wanders in and places a platter of nibbles in the center of the table, catching my eye as he sets it down just so. He smiles, and I have to force myself to swallow down the emotion that creeps up on me unexpectedly. “He’s perfect,” I say quietly. “Handsome, kind, ambitious, and encouraging.”

  “Sounds like a dream,” Jack replies casually, attracting all the girls’ attention.

  “Hey!” Lizzy grabs an olive from the platter and chucks it at him. “Girl talk. Scram!”

  He holds his hands up in surrender and backs out, looking across to my dad as he goes. “I believe that’s six minutes’ survival time…so far.”