CHAPTER NINE

Jay

I woke up warm and happy. I was confused a second, then remembered. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, feeling warmth flood me.

Margo was lying beside me.

I opened my eyes and let them focus on her face. Her warm body was against me and the feeling of her breast, just pressing my side, was already arousing me. I felt my cock tense as I let my fingers stray down, brushing the soft, cool skin of her leg. She was lying on her side and I felt every point of contact as if it lit a fire inside of me.

“Margo?”

She opened her eyes. I smiled as she focused on my face. I saw the lids flutter open and she focused with some surprise. Then, to my surprise, she smiled.

“Mm,” she said. She rolled over onto her back with a fluid grace that made my loins tense, stretching long arms over her head. She smiled, a sleepy grin.

“Good morning,” I whispered. By my reckoning, it Tuesday. I guessed she should be at work.

“Mm,” she said again. She rolled into me and I sighed, letting my arms hold her close.

I moved to kiss her, and she looked into my eyes and then closed hers again as she gently parted her lips for my kiss. I sighed and pushed my tongue into the warmth of her mouth, feeling my body become aroused as she leaned against me. I could feel her warm, soft breasts, her gently rounded belly, her thighs. I let my hand stray between them and she gasped.

“I’ll be late for work,” she said reproachfully as I stroked her, noticing with sudden pleasure that she was wet. I let my fingers slip in her warm folds, reaching for the throbbing hardness between them.

“Jay, oh!” She snapped her eyes open, giving me a look that was a mix of wildness and indignation.

I chuckled. With reluctance I moved my hand.

“Okay, okay.”

She rolled onto her back. “I have to go to the gym,” she said woodenly.

I smiled.

“I understand,” I said. I was aching for her, but I guessed I could manage to restrain myself. Just because I was on holiday, didn’t mean she was. I sighed and rolled away, sitting up.

Looking down at her where she lay, the coverlet over her breasts modestly, was probably not the smartest idea I ever had. I wanted her. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth and tried to convince my groin that it was nothing to do with this picture. It didn’t work.

“Jay,” she murmured, rolling over and looking into my eyes. “I know we only have a week…”

I sighed. She was right. Weird how I’d managed to forget that. But even so, I wasn’t going to mess things up by throwing off her schedule.

“I know,” I said softly. “But I don’t want to ruin your day.”

She laughed. “Believe me, that wouldn’t. But I get the point.”

She sat up and rolled over, grinning at me as she slid her naked self out.

I stared as she walked round the bed and to the doorway that led to the bathroom. Her round buttocks rose and fell, oscillating gently as she walked. Her long legs ended in sweet, pink-flushed feet, small for her height. I watched her walk into the bathroom, turn and smile at me, then shut it.

I lay back and tried not to think about what her body looked like, pale and flushed a little where the hot water ran over it, her breasts full and the nipples big under the moist drops…

“Jay, come on.”

I slid out of bed and looked for my clothes—we’d left them scattered about on the floor that night.

While I looked at the clock—it was twenty past eight, and I reckoned I should let myself out as soon as possible—I planned my day. I should get home and try not to tell anyone where I’d been. Check emails. Work out. I had a meeting with my boss when I got back to prepare for too.

I reached for my crutches where I’d propped them against the wall and set about finding my clothes.

I’m a mess.

My irritation with my leg was stronger this morning. I always felt annoyed with it, but now, thinking of Margo seeing it, I hated the thing.

It had been one thing last night, when I could spend most of the time ignoring the fact that the lower half of my right leg was paralyzed. Sitting on the bed, or kneeling in the sweet space between her thighs, it didn’t matter so much that my right shin was immobile. This morning, in the cold light of day, I was desperate for Margo not to see it. The muscle had withered considerably, leaving it a pale, skinny travesty of a leg compared with the other.

“Jay?” a sweet voice called just as I bent forward to accomplish the impossible task of lifting my underpants out from under her desk.

I whipped around and almost fell over. I gripped the desk, braced myself and hauled myself upright. I reddened, feeling humiliation lash at me.

“Dammit,” I hissed. “Don’t do that.”

She went pale. Her sweet mouth dropped into a confused “o” shape. In any other situation it would have made me ache to kiss her. Now, I just wanted to cry.

There I was, naked, my right foot off the floor, my whole body braced on my shoulders. I couldn’t balance properly, not without shifting around a bit.

“Sorry, Jay,” she said softly. “I just wanted to ask if you wanted coffee?”

“No. Thank you.” I managed to get the words out. Dammit, my voice was wobbling. I tried to focus, biting my lip to bring myself back to the present moment.

“Oh. Just asking.” She blinked, sounding hurt. Naked, she reached for her bathrobe and headed to the kitchen.

I let out a breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding. Now she was gone, I could drop to my knees and scrabble the underwear out from under the table.

I completed the undignified maneuver and got dressed. That, too, was slow and undignified. I had to drag myself to the bed, pull my body onto it and then lace the pants over my insensate leg, drawing them up past the knee. I was blessed, they said, that I had feeling in the thigh. Somehow, the nerve hadn’t been severed, only severely damaged. I sighed. I knew how lucky I was, but all the same, it hurt.

I pulled on the underpants, reaching for my trousers. Once I’d gotten them on, I felt better. The horrible thing was out of sight. I put on my socks, hating the way it felt to put socks on over that cold, dead foot. I noticed it was lined with bruises—it’s not easy not to bruise a foot you are unaware of. It was a mess.

I slid my foot to the end of the bed and shrugged into my shirt. My crutches were leaning on the chair. I leaned on the wall and shuffled across to get to them, then, feeling supported again, swung my way to the kitchen.

Margo heard me and turned around.

I tensed.

She smiled.

I breathed out. With the morning light making a flame of her hair, her smile big and gentle, she was so, so lovely. She was wearing a dark satin bathrobe and it clung to her breasts, at once revealing and concealing. I felt my loins throb.

She is so beautiful. I’m a beast.

“Hey, Jay,” she smiled. “You sure you don’t want coffee? Or breakfast? We maybe could…”

“I’m fine,” I grunted. I didn’t know why, but I felt so exposed this morning. I couldn’t exactly have expected, or said, why being in her house alone with her made me feel like my leg was so much more obvious. In the restaurant, in public, I guess there was a lot to look at. Here, alone in the apartment, there was, well, just me. And my crutches. And my useless leg.

“Okay,” she said again, looking surprised. “Well,” she added, coming over. She walked closer and pressed her body against mine, wrapping her arms around me.

I was supported on the crutches and I couldn’t lift my arms to hold her—not without overbalancing and looking ridiculous. I clenched my teeth.

“I should go,” I said softly.

She sighed. “Okay.”

She stepped back, and I understood, with a sinking feeling, that expression. It was disappointment.

I closed my eyes. Not for the first time that morning, I felt like crying. She was disappointed in me.

“I’ll let myself out,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. I turned with what dignity I could summon and limped out of the door, swinging myself on my strong arms, bad leg trailing.

I was at the front door when she caught up.

“Jay!” she said. She sounded exasperated. “Wait up! Aren’t you going to say goodbye? Here, let me unlock that…”

“I can let myself out,” I said thickly. I let her open the door anyway, though, and then swung out toward the lift. I stopped and turned, looking back at her.

She was standing in the door, eyes wide, glossed with feeling.

I bit my lip. “I’ll see you,” I managed tightly. Then, I turned away and shifted my weight onto my left leg, freeing up my right arm to press the button for the elevator. When it arrived, I swung in and turned around just in time to see her disappear inside. Her face was pale, eyes round.

“Just as well,” I said to myself. I caught a brief glimpse of my reflection—white face, big eyes with red rims. I looked away. Self-loathing was never far away, and I hated elevators—one place I could barely get away from the mirror.

I waited impatiently to reach the ground floor and then braced myself, swinging out into the hallway.

“Morning, sir,” the doorman called.

I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes a moment, not wanting to see the confused, pitying expression on his face.

“Good morning,” I ground out.

Then I swung out into the car park. I realized as I got there that Margo had brought me here last night, and that I had no way of getting back from here. I had to act fast, before she remembered too, and, leaning on the wall, I reached into my pocket for my phone to call a taxi.