Larry, my pug, flops off the end of the bed and scurries through the open doorway. I see Gabriel’s raised eyebrows and a hand placed strategically on his hip.
“Well?” he pipes up, tapping his foot on the carpet.
I grab the pink floral quilt between my hands, pull it up to my neck and then cover my face, leaving the tiniest of peepholes so that I can see him, but he can’t see me.
“I said no!” I holler from the confines of the bed covers.
“Don’t tell me you’re shy,” he mutters, and as naked as the day he was born Gabriel rolls his eyes and paces towards his easel, which is propped up next to our mahogany wardrobe.
Both his body and face are bronzed; for a man, my definition of him would be disturbingly beautiful, yet he wants to paint me without a damn stitch on. I’m so embarrassed. Obviously he sees me naked daily, and we sleep together, make love. But there’s a difference between that and him seeing me naked while standing behind an easel, staring at my body, seeing every flaw; and believe me, I’ve got quite a few.
I often comment that he’s too good looking for me, too perfect. He doesn’t take compliments well, though, and tends to laugh it off, telling me to shut the fuck up. So to piss him off I say he looks more like an action figure than a real man. He’s quick to lift his t-shirt above his waist and rub his hand over his newly acquired flab, which he calls his beer belly, something he’s only had since knowing me. Our TV has taken precedence over his gym equipment, which has been piled up in the spare room and is now covered with dustsheets.
“Natasha, now. Don’t think I’m asking you again,” he says with a growing smile and that cheeky glint in his eyes.
He turns his back on the easel and walks towards the bed. I giggle, scrunching the quilt into my chest and throwing myself into total darkness. Neither of us speaks, and I lie quietly, holding my breath in anticipation. Warm fingers walk their way to my feet and then up towards my ankles, which he grabs.
I let out an un-sexy snort.
“Gabriel, sod off!” I screech, kicking myself out of his grasp.
“I don’t think so,” he retorts.
He’s now on all fours, lying over me. He pulls the quilt one way, and I grab it between my fingers and pull it the other. His arms tighten around my waist.
“I told you to get your skinny ass out of this bed, so it looks like it’s going to have to be a fireman’s lift,” he laughs, grappling me into his chest.
Chuckling, I push him away. Suddenly, we’re both rolling and there’s a thud; our two naked bodies are now lying crumpled on the floor. I open my eyes, trying to refocus, but my head’s banging and I’m not sure exactly what happened. I pass him a sideward glance and see that he’s staring at me straight-faced, as if he’s waiting for me to say something.
I rub my head, feigning pain.
“You’re a fucking dick,” I blurt out, edging away from him and trying the best I possibly can to hold onto my angry expression. I so want to laugh, and bite the insides of my cheeks to make sure I don’t.
He prods his fingers into my waist.
“Hey, come on, lighten up, I only want to paint you.”
“Yes, but you want to paint me with nothing on.”
It seems kind of odd that he needs me to sit for him. Before Gabriel had his eye operation, he said he could paint me from memory, but now that his sight has been restored he seems to be struggling. He doesn’t use his fingers to trace my face the way he used to, and his choice of colours isn’t as precise as it was. He seems to have lost some of his artistic flair. I don’t want to hurt him and so tell him his paintings are amazing; in any case, I assume he still has his clientele and is making a living doing what he loves.
“What’s the problem? This painting is for us…”
My eyes leave Gabriel and bypass my wig on the dressing table, sitting proud on its little stand. I take a quick peek in the mirror situated a short distance behind. God, is that really my reflection? My stomach turns over as I’m met by short wayward hair with a mind of its own, and a body without any kind of shape or curve to it. In the last three or four months I’ve seen an improvement, but the cancer has certainly taken its toll. Should I really be moaning? I’ve got Gabriel, the twins are due in a matter of weeks and more importantly I’m in remission. I’ve got a life, which I intend to live to the full. It’s just hard not to let my insecurities surface sometimes; it’s something I need to work on, I guess. Adrianna mentioned counselling, but that’s not me. Time is what I need, and now thankfully, time is what I’ve got.
My reflection blurs as my focus returns to Gabriel. I see a softening in his expression and gather it’s because he’s seen my tears.
“Enough of that, you daft cow, your portrait will be beautiful.” He smiles, brushing my cheek with the back of his hand. “Natasha, you’re beautiful.”
“In your eyes, maybe.” I blink away my tears. “What if Mum and Dad were to see the painting, or Adrianna or Jase? Or worse still the twins at some point?”
My mind wanders to Adrianna, carrying our girls. In some ways I’m gutted my sister had to be our surrogate; I think of the morning sickness, the backache and the swollen ankles, yet what I’d give for that magical feeling of my babies kicking and moving around inside me. But each time I glance down at myself there’s no baby bump, just a scar; a constant reminder of the hysterectomy, of the cancer.
“Tash, they’re not even born yet,” he sniggers, clearly not taking me seriously.
I sit up straight, bending my knees and folding my arms around them.
“Could you really imagine seeing a picture of your mum naked?”
He very quickly loses his snigger, and I can’t miss the shudder that passes through him.
“Okay, point taken.”
His eyes move from mine and down to the space between my crossed legs. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. I watch the way he drags his teeth very slowly over his bottom lip.
“You can get that thought out of your mind; I’ve got too many things to do today.”
I reel off in my head the shopping list Adrianna text me last night with the food and toiletries she wanted me to get for their return later today. There’s also the navy suit that Danielle left folded on the bed and wanted me to take to the dry cleaners; I was going to do it last week but forgot. It’s something I need to do today, as Primrose’s graduation isn’t going to wait. Not forgetting the airport run; two weeks my family have been away, two scorching weeks in Turkey and a chance for Adrianna to introduce Logan to his daddy. Adrianna added a few photos of Asim on her Facebook page, and it was quite a shock seeing how hot he was. She used to joke that Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing was the one man who could turn her straight, and seeing Asim I was surprised he didn’t have the same effect.
Gabriel winks and takes hold of my hands.
“Promise I’ll be quick.”
“No!” I protest again, though as I speak his lips have made their way towards my neck, towards that little spot that he knows exactly how to kiss.
My insides are tingling, and I scrunch my cheek against the side of his face. My defences are down and I no longer have any desire to pull away, so letting out a long breath I relax into him.
His fingers curl around my ass as he lifts me off the carpet and sits me on his lap. I lock my hands around his neck, gripping either side of his waist with my thighs. His intimate parts are pressing against me, and he begins to rub his shaft very slowly between my folds.
Warm breaths shoot from between my lips; aroused, I’m breathing heavily.
“Naughty…” I whisper, chastising him.
“Go on then, tell me.”
I gaze up under my eyes and directly into his.
“Tell you what?” I moan. “That you’re a dick?”
“A dick? Really?” He inches away from me. “Sorry, but that just doesn’t cut it.”
I feel my fingers being prised apart, then feel him circling his own around my wrist, my hand being lowered between my breasts and on down past my waist.
“Now, if you want me,” he growls, pressing my palm against his growing length, “you’d better tell me.” He smiles. “I’m waiting...”
In an instant our eyes lock as I take his penis in my hand. His fingers rests around mine and we’re moving together, up and down. His free hand brushes against my thigh, then finger by finger he searches below, circling slowly to begin, but it isn’t long before he presses that intimate little bud of mine that drives me crazy. I tighten my grip around him and move my hand just a tad faster.
“Fucking hell, Natasha,” he pants, “tell me.”
I edge my face into his, and my teeth bite his bottom lip.
“Okay, okay, I love you,” I cry out, pulling away.
Whisked up in Gabriel’s arms and grabbed by the ass, I’m thrown onto the bed. Cupping my face in his hands, he covers my cheeks with kisses, his feet slowly manoeuvring my legs apart. I gasp, arching my back as I feel him pushing himself inside me.
My body stiffens as the ringtone on my mobile blasts its repetitive tune throughout the bedroom. I lift my arm, blindly feeling for the bedside cabinet and for my phone.
“Leave it; whoever it is they can ring back,” Gabriel groans, pushing himself further inside me.
I’m sick of people moaning at me for leaving my phone on silent, so now I make a point of leaving my ringtone on. I also make a point of answering it. I turn my head to the left. I can make out the illuminated screen but can’t quite see the caller’s name.
I smack Gabriel’s thigh.
“What about I take a turn on top?” I whisper, offering him a huge grin.
He opens his eyes and grins back. Pulling out of me, he rolls himself underneath. Lowering myself onto him, I take a quick peek at the caller ID.
“It’s Adrianna. I’ve got to get this. What if their flight’s been delayed or there’s a problem with the twins?”
I don’t give him time to answer, and still astride him I grab my phone and accept the call.
I’m met by a mishmash of incoherent words and sobbing. Intimacy is now the last thing on my mind, and I slip off Gabriel and sit on the side of the bed, propping myself up with a pillow.
“Adrianna, slow down, I can’t understand a word of what you’re saying. What’s wrong?”
As I’m speaking, Gabriel sits up behind me, nudging my shoulder.
“The twins, are they okay?” he probes.
I cover the mouthpiece with my hand, shaking my head.
“I don’t know.”
“The twins, tell me everything’s okay!” I shout at Adrianna, who is now wailing.
Then she’s gone, and her crying is merely background noise. I’m talking to Danielle.
“Danielle, what the hell’s going on?”
“Tash,” a shaky voice comes back. “It’s Logan...”