Trying Not to Love You - Part Twenty

Chapter Twenty

 

Three shampoos later she was starting to feel a little better, and finding her freshest pyjamas she felt human again. Coming back to the kitchen, she put the kettle on, tea might help her calm down, then she went back to the laundry to sort out the rags she’d just dragged from her body earlier.

As she was loading the washing machine she heard a sound behind her, she presumed it was the animals, maybe Tinker was attacking one of the other cats, or even Tessa. She’d been acting strange since bloody Sonny had arrived on the farm, and she knew the fire had distressed them too. So Martha made for the feed room. Then stopped dead in her tracks.

At the far end of the feed room were the stairs up to Sonny’s old bedroom, but that wasn’t what had stunned her, at the bottom of the staircase was the shower, and stood there completely uncaring was Sonny, stark naked, water coursing off his body, the shower still running behind him.

Not wanting to see the smug look on his face, she dropped her eyes, but that was a bad move. After all he was totally naked, and completely uninhibited. As he reached for a towel she could hear him laugh at her discomfort. But he made no effort to move or cover himself, instead she was forced to decide which part of him to look at, his bare feet that were strangely erotic, his hair dusted thighs...as her eyes rose she could feel heat wash over her. Yep, that was impressive too. One thing she could say was that Sonny Carter was an impressive specimen.

By the time her eyes had flitted over his body, the flat stomach, broad shoulders, and chest that was sculpted from his boxing training, he was hardening under her scrutiny. Finally she met his knowing eyes, and they were laughing at her as he towelled dried his hair. The rest of him was dripping wet, yet he chose to dry his hair first. The man had no shame.

Turning on her heel she stormed back across the rooms to the sanctuary of the kitchen, his laughter ringing in her ears.

Like she was ever going to sleep after all the adrenaline and excitement of the fire...and then there was Sonny. She shuddered at that memory.

After writhing from side to side unable to settle, then pacing, the length of her bedroom repeatedly, she was no calmer, and definitely no more tired. With a sigh she finally admitted defeat and gave up on any attempts to sleep. The house was still in darkness, her father hadn’t stirred, she could tell that, and there was no sign of Aunt Lucy...or the lodger, as he would be known from now on. It was becoming more and more difficult to live in the same house as him. He had no restraint, he was a walking time bomb, and then there was the debacle tonight after the fire.

Would tea help? She doubted it, but it was four am, she couldn’t really have alcohol now, as appetising as it seemed. Putting the kettle on, she was just making for the fridge when she felt a presence behind her. Turning she saw Sonny leaning against the doorframe, dressed this time in a t-shirt and dark pyjama trousers, a strange look on his face.

                “What?” was her immediate if rather aggressive response.

It initiated a smile from him but it was very sardonic, not making it as far as his eyes. “Don’t I get some?”

                “Tea?” She asked, hating that her voice sounded weak, croaky, but he was unsettling her, threatening her equilibrium.

He nodded, “or are you offering anything else?”

Rolling her eyes she opened the fridge and found the milk, “why are you being like this?”

He laughed again, “like what?”

Stalking towards her, he paused to lean against the sink as she watched his every move nervously.

                “Hassling me.”

                “Ah!” He lifted his head slightly as he let the word escape his lips. “So I’m hassling you? Because what...I showered in the outhouse to avoid stinking your house out with smoke? So doing the right thing is the wrong thing?”

She rolled her eyes again, “of course not.”

As she poured hot water into the tea pot she could feel him move again, and she was relieved to pour him a mug and thrust it into his hand when she turned to find him upon her.

With a wry laugh he took the mug then watched her scoot across the kitchen away from him.

                “Do you think it was deliberate?” She nodded to the window, in the direction of the cremated barn.

                “Nice subject change!”  He stared at her for a moment too long, then sighed, “yes. I think it was. Like the other damages we’ve been having!” His lips curled into a smile, “how long are you going to keep doing this?”

Martha paused mid sip and looked up to meet his eyes again, and he was watching her intently, a hooded gaze that made the hairs on her neck stand on end.

                “Doing what?”

He moved along the table, approaching her once more, “avoiding me? When I come in a room you leave...you won’t look me in the eye...unless I’m naked,” he added with a sad smile. “What are you scared of Martha?”

                “I don’t...” She floundered, so not wanting to have this conversation.

                “Tell me, why do you deny what is so obviously between us?”

She turned away, “there’s nothing between us.” Could he hear her heart racing?

Where she moved he followed, “Yes there is! I KNOW you feel it too. What are you scared of?”

                “YOU!” She suddenly snapped, “I’m scared of you...I’m scared for you, I’m scared you’ll hurt me, of you being hurt, of Scott hurting us both...”

He sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, “I’d never hurt you, you know that, and I’d die before I let him harm a hair on your head.”

And she knew that he meant every word that he said, “that’s meant to make me feel better?”

Sonny looked at her, face flushed, chest rising as her breathing deepened, it was now or never. She felt the same way, he knew she did, and he had to make her see that this was right, inevitable, if he did then he might actually get some sleep.

                “I’ve waited all my life to feel part of a home like this, to have somewhere to come home to, to have people to share things with. To belong somewhere. I should be ecstatic, brimming with happiness. But I’m not.”

Her eyes flashed up to his, “you don’t like it here?”

                “I love it here. But you’re killing me.”

He could see the self doubt flicker across her face, “me? Do I fuss too much?”

Sonny laughed, no, he loved her fussing as much as he loved the fact that she had no idea how beautiful she was, “you’re everywhere I go. All vulnerable and sleepy in the morning, efficient and demanding at work, sassy and sexy in the pub. I can’t get away from you.”

She shuddered, and he knew that he was winning.

                “Every night I lie awake thinking of you...” she looked away, but then he knew she would, “I think of the fact that there’s just the corridor separating us, that if I stood, took a maximum of ten paces that I’d be in your room, next to your bed. Would I see you sleeping? Or are you awake like me, thinking the same thoughts, wanting the same thing?”

                “Sonny please.” She’d kept moving away, but was now backed into a corner, literally. His voice was quiet, hypnotic, and his mouth was at her ear, his breath playing havoc with the skin on her neck. “Why are you doing this again? Don’t talk like that.”

Lifting his head he met her eyes and smiled his eyes twinkling, “as I told you earlier, talking is the last thing I want to do with you.” That was met with a nervous swallow, and whilst she was anxious, there was no sign of any denial or refusal. Not really. “But if you want to talk, I’ll do that.”

She shook her head, “I don’t want to.”

Giving a predatory smile he leaned in, “Good! Me neither.”

“What is wrong with you today?”

Reaching out he placed a hand on the wall behind her head, and leaned into her personal space again, she wanted to shrink into the wall, put space between them, but she was trapped.

“You!” Her eyes widened in surprise at the word. “I can’t get you out of my head, everywhere I go, everything I do...you’re there. I wasn’t lying when I talked about your room. The times I’ve stood there, wanting to push open the door, move into your room, slip under the covers with you...”

He was SO close to her again, his lips hovering less than an inch from her skin, “I wonder if you’ll let me in, lift the duvet, pat the mattress beside you. Or whether you’d slap my cheek, send me away.”

She swallowed again but remained silent.

Sighing he smiled softly, “you want this; you want me, as much as I want you. I know it.”

Pushing at his chest, she stepped clear of him, “you are so arrogant, so cocky!”

He laughed, moving behind her, his lips once again at her ear, his chest almost touching her spine; she could feel the heat from him. She reached for the back of the kitchen chair to steady herself. “You think? Not hearing any denials from you though. Not feeling any slap. What would you do Martha? Let me stay?”

                “NO!” She spun around and squared up to him, “I’d slap you, I’d scream, and then I’d slap you again. Then I’d run away as far as I could.” She spat the words venomously, and was rewarded with a glance of pain across his face. She thought she’d feel pleasure at that, but she didn’t. For a moment he looked like a boy, a rejected child and she hated that she’d unleashed that, that vulnerable side of him brought out the protective instinct in her, that was the paradox that was Sonny Carter. Aggressive, angry, uncaring to the outside world, but lonely, vulnerable and scared up close.

He was already retreating. “Ok. I...er...I can’t do this Martha, I’ve said it, I can’t pretend I haven’t, and I can’t carry on regardless, can’t pretend I don’t care.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I’m going to move out, get a room in town. I think it’ll be better, for all of us.”

For Sonny he’d come as close to putting his heart on his sleeve as he could, rejection cut him like a knife, and he was once again fighting all those feelings from childhood that this bloody woman conjured up.

Martha stared at him, hating that he was running away, hating that she’d hurt him just like everyone else did, but knowing that she couldn’t trust anyone, or anything. She couldn’t give in to this, no matter how much he tempted her. She’d long since realised that Sonny Carter was complex, funny, and intelligent, despite his self doubt. He was also devastatingly sexy, and the sadness in his face as he backed away more than tugged at her heart strings. Reaching out she gripped his upper arm, stopping his retreat. Not wanting to take another step, but knowing at that moment that he was the only person to make her feel like this, and she’d never feel this way again without him.

                “Don’t.” He shook his head, then stared at her hand “don’t unless you know what this means.”

She sighed, could she do this? Could she drop her guard, do what she’d resisted for so long? As his eyes lifted to hers, his mouth was just a few inches from hers, and without processing anything else, she lifted her lips to his. Hers touched his, she made that first move.

For a moment Sonny was stunned, and he could barely think for the pounding in his head, he couldn’t feel. Then...

Boom!

The flash was almost palpable. All he knew was that this was everything he’d wanted. Every inch of his body responded to that first tentative kiss, and yet he was still nervous, still unsure. Lifting his head, he briefly looked at her, her closed eyes, parted lips and the pulse that raced in her throat.

Oh God! Was his final thought as lust took over.