Fool for Love (Believe #2) (43 page)

“We’re good,” she reassures me and stretches her arms in the air. My dick hardens as she wiggles her ass, and I can’t help but grin at her.

Such a tease.

“Besides, I’m also on the Pill, Garrett, and I’d be happy to take a test for you if you want that.”

“I trust you,” I blurt. The realisation hits me right in the gut. It’s true – in moments like this, I do trust her with everything that I am. In the quiet of the night, when it’s just the two of us, I don’t hold any fear.

Not until dawn breaks and a new day begins – when reality sets in, and the old fear grabs me once more.

“You don’t trust me entirely,” she whispers, placing a hand on my cheek. “But in time, I hope you will.”

I frown at her, but keep my silence. Looking to lighten the mood that has dropped a bit, I try to distract her by running my hands up her sides, and I palm her breasts gently.

“Perfect,” I rasp.

She leans down to give me a quick kiss and before I know it, she’s up and backing away from me.

“No more, old man,” she laughs. “I need a break.”

I chuckle and place an arm on the bed, leaning my head in my hand.

“I thought that was my line,” I tease her.

She rolls her eyes at me, shakes her head, and then turns her back before she walks away. I grin when I hear the soft click as she shuts the door to the bathroom, and on a heavy sigh, I lie back and turn my head to the windows.

I hardly know what’s up and down anymore.

Since Suzy came into my life, I’ve smiled more. I’ve laughed more. I’ve managed to crawl out of the darkness that cloaked me; but as I think back on all that’s happened the last couple of weeks, I realise that I’ve been the coward I swore I’d never become when I was a child. Apart from going through the motions, I’ve not been able to breathe properly for so long, but now – things are different.

If I choose to let go of my past completely…

“You look so serious, honey,” Suzy’s voice breaks me from my reverie, and I inhale deeply.

“Just thinking.”

She crawls over my lap and lies down beside me. I turn my head to take in her naked form.

“What?” she asks me when I smirk at her.

“Most women always cover themselves up after having sex, but you don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I love that you seem so comfortable in your own skin. It’s just a novelty for me, I guess.”

She shrugs.

“I’m not a prude, Garrett. True, I haven’t always been this…” she looks down and seems as if she’s searching for the right word. “…so open about my body, but…” She gives me back her eyes and leans down to tease my lips, flicking her tongue over them, and I tense from wanting her.

“I know you love my body,” she whispers.

I groan when she takes a firm grip on my balls.

“And I love the way you look at me when I’m naked.”

“Tell me,” I growl and still her hand with mine.

“Like you want to gobble me up.”

“I thought you wanted to rest,” I rasp, turning swiftly to cover her with my body. I take a firm grip on her wrists and hold her down.

“Well, I thought so, too,” she pants as I place a soft kiss on her neck. “But then I saw the handcuffs and realised we weren’t quite done yet with tonight’s entertainment.”

I chuckle and turn my head to look at the foot of the bed where I tossed them earlier.

“You’re right,” I muse as I turn back to watch her eyes. Her pupils are dilated, and there’s a knowing, feline smile grazing her lips – one that I’ll soon wipe away with my mouth.

“Don’t move,” I whisper as I release her hands. I sit back on my haunches and grip my hard dick in my hand, rubbing it slowly from root to head.

She licks her lips, and my eyes fall on her breasts.

“I hope you’re ready for round two,” I rumble.

“I’m ready, Sir,” she murmurs.

I close my eyes as a shiver runs down my back. Hearing her submission is like an aphrodisiac to me, one I revel in.

“Good.” I lean down until my lips hover above hers. “We can rest when we’re old.”

She laughs, but it’s soon drowned by my searing kiss, replaced by sighs and moans.

I let her take me away from the real world once more.

Into her light.

Where I’ll remain for as long as she’ll have me.

“Tell me something in Danish,” I murmur as we lie in the dark. Suzy’s sprawled on top of me, her slender limbs keeping me warm, and a feeling of contentment settles over me as she runs her fingers through my chest hair. Her lips find the dreaded tattoo above my heart from time to time, and with each soft kiss she places on it, it’s as if she vanquishes the dark memories they symbolise. Her touch is like a balm to my soul.

While I feel sated and drowsy, I’m still buzzing from our high, and sleep won’t come.

“Uumm….” She laughs low. “I don’t know what to say!” She rests her chin on my chest and her smiling eyes meet mine.

I shrug. “Just say anything. Please?”

“Alright. Let me see.”

She hums as her eyes cloud over, clearly lost in thought, and I wait patiently for her to do as I ask.

“I’ve got it now. Ready?”

Her grin is infectious, and I nod, smiling wide.

“Here goes:
Fem flade flødeboller på et fladt flødebollefad!
”

My smile vanishes instantly, and I frown.

“What the fuck was that?”

She begins to giggle like mad, and I shake my head when she slides away from me and tucks a blanket over her naked body.

“Aaah,” she sighs after her fit is over. “You should’ve seen your face.”

I place my arm on the bed and push up so I can see her more clearly.

“What does it mean?” I ask her, strangely intrigued by the vast amount of “f’s” she used.

“It’s a nursery rhyme,” she answers, resting her hand on my chin. “I wouldn’t know how to translate it for you. I think children in Denmark learn it in in kindergarten or school.”

“I see. It sounded very…weird.”

She grins again.

“It is. But
‘flødeboller’
are absolutely delicious.”

“Oh, so it has to do with some kind of dessert?” I arch an eyebrow at her, genuinely curious.

“Well. Not exactly, but they’re a treat. Maybe I should google a recipe for you, and then you can try to make them?”

“I’d like that.”

Her eyes gentle and come down to rest briefly on my lips. The pad of her thumb rests there for a while, but then she rubs it slowly back and forth across the ridge marring my bottom lip. I tense slightly, and try to distract her.

“How do you say
‘beautiful’
?” I ask her.

Her eyes find mine again.

“
‘Smuk’
.”

I try to say it, but from the suppressed laughter I find in her gaze, I know it’ll take more than a couple of attempts before I can get it right.

“How about
‘chocolate’
?”

“That’s almost the same as in English.
‘Chokolade’
.”

“Hmm…” I place my hand on her heart and take comfort in the strong, regular beat.”

“
Jeg ville ønske, jeg kunne se dit ansigt
,” she whispers.

I frown, tilting my head.

“What was that?”

She doesn’t answer me immediately, but asks me a question instead.

“When are you going to shave that beard off, Garrett?”

I tense further and grimace.

“Why does it matter so much to you?” I grumble. My heart is hammering away in my chest, and while it’s kind of irrational, dread settles in my gut.

“Because while I love how it feels when you go down on me, I can never tell your exact mood because it covers up so much of your face,” she whispers. “It makes me wonder if you’re hiding something from me…”

I scowl and lie back down next to her.

What do I tell her?

The truth?

“I like having a beard,” I hedge. “I’m not hiding anything.”

Silence falls between us, and it’s heavy with the secrets I still hold close to my heart. Regret fills me when she leaves the bed, all wrapped up in her blanket as if she’s cold, but I don’t know how to give her what she wants.

“Where are you going?”

I try to mask my frustration, but I know she can hear it in my voice when her back stiffens.

“If you must know, I’m going to take a shower and then sleep on the couch.”

“What?!” I shoot up in bed and take a look at the clock standing on the bedside table.

“Don’t act like a child,” I admonish her and get up to bring her back to bed.

She swirls around to face me and I stop dead in my tracks when she prowls towards me, fire breathing in her eyes.

“Don’t you
fucking
call me a child, you – you big, old oaf!”

I wince when she jabs a finger in my chest.

“Why do you keep doing this to me, Garrett? Why act all sweet and funny and…and
normal
if you still refuse to let me in? What’s the point?”

Her mouth pinches shut when I don’t answer her immediately.

“Great, here we are again,” she mutters. Then she spins on her heels, stomping away from me.

“I have a scar,” I call out softly.

That makes her stop, but she doesn’t turn around.

“Some people never notice the ridge on my lips,” I continue. “They don’t pay close enough attention.” I take a couple of steps to her when she turns around to face me.

“You didn’t see it – or even
feel
it when I kissed you for the first time,” I whisper.

She shakes her head.

“You’re right, I didn’t. Did you get it in the accident?”

I nod. “Yes. I smashed my head into the window, and the glass left a long gash. It goes from here…” I raise my right hand and point at my left cheek, just below my eye, and leave a soft trail down the side, over my lips, to end on my lower part of my chin on the right, “…to here.”

She tucks the blanket closer around her and frowns at me.

“Why keep hiding it?”

I sigh and run a hand over my chin.

Shrugging, I say, “Habit, I suppose. I don’t want people to see it; to wonder about it; to pity me when I clearly don’t deserve it.”

She groans and rubs her eyes before letting her arm fall listlessly to the side.

“Good lord, Garrett, it happened so long ago.”

“Maybe so,” I clip, “but that doesn’t negate the fact that I also
like
my beard.”

“Then why not just shave it off to a scruff?” she counters.

I don’t have a clever comeback for that one; and if her growing smirk is anything to go by, she knows that, too.

I grit my teeth.

“Fine, have it your way.”

I stalk to the bathroom and hear her quick steps behind me as she follows me.

“What are you doing?” her breathless voice sounds from behind me when I enter the bathroom and begin to open and close the cupboards above the sink.

“Nonna gave me a shaving set when I turned twenty-one,” I mutter. “She had the box engraved with my name. No matter what, I could never convince myself to get rid of it.”

I stop when my hands find the box at the very back of the last cupboard, and I take it down roughly.

I open it as Suzy comes closer to stand next to me.

“Wow,” she breathes. “It’s beautiful.”

The box is black, and my full name is engraved on the lid in swirling script:
Garrett Matteo Thompson.
Inside, there’s a big brush, some shaving soap, and the razor. I change the blade quickly, as if I’m on autopilot.

I clench my teeth and raise my head to look into the mirror in front of me. Suzy’s stubborn eyes meet mine, and I breathe deeply.

“I need scissors first,” I murmur.

“I’ll get them.”

I watch her retreating back, and quick as lightening, she’s back with the pair of scissors I keep in the kitchen.

“Will this work?”

Nodding, I take them from her and turn back to the mirror. Pinching my lips shut, I quickly make work on the length of my beard until it’s easier to shave, trying to shut down the feeling of dread.

I turn on the tap and wait for the water to get the right temperature. Mesmerised, I watch it swirling as it fills up the sink, and once it’s ready, I turn it off.

I grab a hairband from the drawer next to me and gather my hair at the nape of my neck. Suzy’s hand lands on my shoulder, and she leans up to place a soft, lingering kiss on the dragon’s tail.

“Come on, Garrett. Give me all of you, please,” she whispers.

I take another deep breath and lean down to wet my cheeks before I reach for the soap on the vanity. Halfway to my chin, I notice the way my hand is shaking, and I grit my teeth, waiting it out. Once steady, I roll the tube across my beard and dip the brush in the water.

I lather the soap until I’m covered in white foam and then look down at the razor.

As I pick it up, I brace myself for what I’m about to see.

For the first time in fifteen years, I’ll see my face.

Stripped bare.

And it scares the fuck out of me.