“Fuck, baby. Fuck,” he whisper shouts into my ear.
The room spins. Dots dance in front of my eyes. My legs twitch as I try to back away from the orgasm that’s sending tremors through my entire body. It’s too much but not enough. I need to get away, but I crawl towards it, begging for more. I give up the fight and let it claim. Then I let it own me.
I can’t even hold on to Cam as he comes. I feel him throb, pulse, and explode inside me, but I can’t move my arms to hold him to me like I want to.
He eventually still his movements. The only sound in the room is our heavy breathing as he rests his forehead against mine.
“I love you, Kitten. Please, don’t ever be in any doubt about that. Not even for a second.”
He holds onto my arse cheeks and rolls over onto his back, bringing me to lie on top of him.
Without another word, we go to sleep.
CHAPTER 9
Georgia
The week that followed the best make-up sex ever had by anyone in the history of the world was a pretty good one.
The kids are busy but behaving. Now that Cam has all of his security issues sorted out at the clubs, he is happier and not on the phone as much. This means that he has time to help me with a few of the arrangements for this year’s Triple M concert. The event has grown too big for his London club and now, we now hold it in a football stadium instead. KLUB still hosts the Sydney event, and Cam supplies the venue and all of the staff to us free of charge.
I really do have the best husband.
Who, coincidentally, just left this morning for a golfing weekend with my brothers, so Jimmie and Ash were coming over to stay. My twins are away on a four-day residential in the New Forest with the school and both the boys have sleepovers tonight.
I’ve managed to separate a pile of lyrics from all of Sean’s stuff for my brother to go through when the boys got back on Sunday afternoon. Some are whole songs, some a few verses, some just a line but there could be something amongst it all that Marley can use.
I’ve put Sean’s diaries into a separate box to look at another time. I just don’t have it in me right now to read them. Maybe I never will. His letters are hard enough, the thoughts and feelings that he wanted me to know. I’m not sure that I’ll ever want to know or read the ones that are private and were never meant for me or anyone else to see. His private thoughts should probably remain that, private.
On my desk sits the last pile of letters addressed to me, a pile of miscellaneous stuff that I’ve yet to sort through and a few video tapes, one of which I was now about to start watching.
Marian has loaned us an ancient portable television that must’ve been about twenty years old. It has a video player built into it and I’ve just pressed play when Harry knocks, then walks into the room.
He leans over my shoulder and looks at the screen, which is still just displaying white noise.
“What is that?”
I pause the tape. I have no clue what’s on it and don’t want anything inappropriate popping up and surprising me.
“It’s a video clip of Carnage.”
“No, I meant that, the telly. Why’s it so big?”
I laugh. Harry’s generation only know flat screens, curved screens, 3D, LCD and plasma. They would have no concept of the huge back part televisions used to have on them or of having to actually get up and turn it over.
“That’s a little one, a portable that you would have in the bedroom or kitchen,” I explain.
“Why’s it blue?”
I look over the very nineties bluey silver colour of the telly.
“I’ve no clue. You could get them in all colours to suit your room, back in the day.”
I watch him as he walks across the room to get the spare chair that’s sitting in the corner. He moves exactly like his dad. Long confident strides. He pushes the front of his dark hair back before lifting the chair with ease and putting it down next to mine. He picks up a Polaroid photo that I’d found amongst everything else. It was of a hot and sweaty Sean and Marley. Their guitar straps pulled tight across their chests, their guitars resting across their backs. They each have a beer in their hands and Marley’s arm is slung over Sean’s shoulders. They’d obviously just finished a show somewhere.
They look so young. Twenty at the most. So it was probably at a time that we weren’t together. I’d kept it out to give to Marley. I have a couple of photos of the pair of them in my office, and I even keep a photo of me and Sean in here. It was my favourite one of the two of us that was taken on my birthday. I’m around five or six months pregnant with Beau, Sean has his hand on my pregnant belly, my hand is on top of his. Both of us were looking down at our hands at the moment the image was captured.
I fail to blink back tears and swipe at them discreetly from under my eyes.
“Do you miss him?” Harry asks from beside me.
I take a deep breath while I think about how to word my answer.