A Summer With Snow (Frosted Seasons #1) (10 page)

“No, leave it,” she whispers.

With my arms supporting her back, I lower her onto the covers. I can see her almond-shaped eyes staring up into mine as I crawl over to join her and lie at her side. Any tension in her body has gone, and she relaxes into my hands. I slip down her strappy top, massaging the soft skin of her breasts, circling my fingers around her pointed nipples. I move further down, allowing my chin to rest between her cleavage. My tongue takes over and I lap at her curves, her perfumed flesh. I hear small groans slip from between her lips as the tempo of her breathing increases; I can feel her excitement, and my own as my cock stirs beneath my boxers in readiness. With my teeth I ruche up her top so that the white cotton material lies above her waistline. Curving my lips to the left, I pass her navel, nibbling my way down to the line of her panties; it’s only the metal button on her shorts that holds me back.

“No, Snow, don’t.”

I feel the flat of her hand pushing against my forehead, pushing me away.

“You’re telling me you don’t like it?”

I glance up at her without moving my head.

“Well, if it’s like that, why don’t you take me in your mouth, Darcy? I’m hard … feel.”

I take her hand and push it down to my throbbing cock. She rips her wrist from between my fingers.

“Snow, it’s probably best you leave.”

I frown. “Darc, what’s wrong? It’s not like you haven’t done it before. What about your other boyfriends?” I enquire as I stroke the curve of her waist and on down her leg.

Every time my eyes meet hers, I watch her look away. I can’t understand why she’s trying to avoid me while we lie here so close.

“I’m sorry, Snow, I think I’ve had too much to drink. Please leave, go downstairs and sleep on the sofa, or in your old room if you like.”

My hand falls from her leg and onto the quilt as she sits up, leaving me with only her back to admire. She readjusts her top, straightening her straps so they rest in straight lines over her shoulders. Her hands bury themselves into the quilt. I reach for her fingers, but it’s as if my touch shocks her as she jerks away.

Again I ask her, “What’s wrong?”

“There weren’t any, okay…”

I frown again as a pause falls between us. Her head seems to lean on one side as she tilts her face, enabling me to see her through the shadows.

“There never was anyone else; I never brought a boy home. Yeah, I had an occasional boyfriend, but as for
that
, it never happened.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve never been down on anyone?”

She doesn’t answer, but shakes her head.

“The funeral…”

“Yes,” she butts in, “I haven’t forgotten.”

“So…” But she doesn’t allow me to finish my sentence.

“Yes, Snow, it was my first time, I was a virgin.”

Oh shit.
I’ve never fucked a virgin before. This woman never fails to surprise me. It’s not very often that I’m lost for words, but as I look at her I feel almost humbled by her innocence, while at the same time entranced by her perfection. I can’t believe at twenty-two I’m all she’s ever known.

“My first time, my dreams, you shattered them all by throwing money at me like I was no more than a common hooker.”

I crawl down the bed and sit at her side.

“You got me wrong; the ten thousand pounds was to cover the funeral costs.”

“Ten thousand?” she blurts out.

“Yes, ten thousand. There was a note explaining everything I wanted you to do with the money. Didn’t you open the envelope? Didn’t you read it?”

She shakes her head. “Why would I after the things you said?”

“Do you really think I meant it?”

She offers me no reply.

“I got the little sister thing stuck in my head and panicked. Us together didn’t sit right, it felt like I’d taken advantage.”

“It was me that asked you to make love to me, so how was that taking advantage?”

Not knowing what to do with my hands, I scratch the back of my neck.

“I think between us we’re doing a good job of fucking this up.”

“There is no this, no us… All you want to do is fuck, but it’s unfortunate, Snow, that I’m not that kind of girl.”

“It wouldn’t be that way with us; you need to relax, let me show you.”

I reach my hand across her chest and place my thumb and forefinger on her chin. Slowly I turn her head towards me.

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on. Sex can be so much fun, especially when you’re with someone who knows what they’re doing. Fulfilment between two people is like a rollercoaster ride; it’s fast, all-consuming, then it’s over.”

Although she is looking at me, her face is like a blank page and she sits in silence. If shaking her would make her understand, I would take her between my hands and do just that.

“Darcy, if sex makes you feel that awkward, then for one night pretend you’re not you. You’re an actress playing a role, and I am your lover. Sometimes pretence makes life so much more fun. Maybe one day you’ll let me show you.”

“But, Snow, that’s not me, I can’t pretend; I can’t be what I’m not and I can’t be what you want me to be.”

My mind works overtime as I try to work out what she wants to hear. I let the tone of my voice soften, and also my touch on her chin.

“Tell me honestly that you didn’t enjoy it when I made love to you.”

She doesn’t shake her head, so I assume she did. I opt for a slightly more playful approach.

“Well then, what say we try it my way? Go on, Darc, undress, lay back on the bed and open your legs for me; I’ve got something hard, something waiting here that wants to fuck you.”

My erection is bulging in my boxers for release.

“God, if only it were that easy, Snow,” she whispers. “Some people are just better at hiding their scars than others.”

I can only wonder what she knows about me as I hear the ambiguity in her words. It appears she awaits my reaction, but I sit silently in thought, unable to decipher what she means.

“Darcy, tell me what’s wrong, just not in riddles.”

My heart races as I await her reply. She stares at me with a vacant expression.

“If only I could forget, if only I could wipe what I saw from my mind, but I can’t. It’s something that’s haunted me for over ten years.”

My hand slips from her face.

“Every night after Mum … my
real
mum put me to bed I would lie with the covers pulled over my head, waiting for the doorbell to ring; which it always did without fail. Mum told me to stay in my room, and said that her
special
friends were coming to visit her.”

She pauses.

“Go on,” I prompt.

“Snow, the things I heard are things no child should ever have to hear… But one night, the sounds were different. Deep voices shouting came from next room, and then I heard Mum’s screams; she was begging them to stop. Grabbing Lucy, my rag doll, I held her tightly against me as I slid out of bed, and tiptoed barefoot across the landing. As quietly as I could I turned the knob and pushed open her bedroom door, and through the tiniest of cracks I peered inside.”

The mattress rises as Darcy gets up from the bed and stands with her back towards me.

“I was only six years old, and that’s the day my childhood ended.”

God, things are starting to make sense
. With a wry smile I glance over at the small bedside lamp that lifts us out of the darkness.

Snow, you fucking idiot.
My fists tighten into balls at my side. The first time she lets anyone in, the first time she has sex, and I throw money at her.
I
knew what it was for, but it left her feeling like a common whore.

I clear my throat, and in a low voice ask, “What then?”

“I guess the neighbours heard, and the police were called. Social services got involved and I was taken into care. I never saw my mum at Christmas, she never turned up to the supervised visits … I never saw her again. When I turned eighteen I tried to find her, but was told she’d taken a drug overdose and died on the streets several years earlier.”

I can’t help thinking that in her own way she’s as fucked up as me, and what she said was true; guess some people really do wear their scars better than others. I lean forward on the bed, pulling her towards me by the waistband of her shorts.

“No, Snow, get off me.”

She takes a step forwards, but I pull her back. She spins round, hitting out at my face; grabbing her above the elbows I pull her into my chest, encasing her in my arms.

“Get off me!” she yells.

“It’s okay, Darc, it’s okay.”

The harder she fights, the tighter my hold on her becomes. After only moments I feel her tenseness dissolve and her yells become sobs. I reach up, softly stroking my hand down the back of her hair in the same way I remember my mother doing to me as a boy when I was upset… But that’s Snow’s story and locked away. There are so many facets to my life, ones I’m not prepared to share.

Still holding her against me, we’re almost as one as I lower us back onto the bed. This is foreign territory I enter, for never in my life have I held a woman the way I’m holding Darcy now. I have this overriding feeling that takes over my head, telling me I want to protect her, keep her safe. Suddenly, my heart hurts, for it is something Snow was unable to do for Summer. But this isn’t a sisterly love I feel for Darcy; I can’t place what I feel. I glance down onto her soft forehead, my eyes following the bridge of her nose, and it suddenly dawns on me that I can’t imagine my life without her in it; yet what chance do two people as broken and as lost as we are really have?

It’s strange how moments can turn into hours without you realising, and it’s amazing how long our arms stayed wrapped around one another without either of us wanting to pull away. I look down at her as she lifts her head from my chest, and we hold each other in a long drawn-out stare. I smile at the multicoloured paint on her face. Seeing a half-empty glass on the table beside us, I stretch my arm towards it and dip my finger into the water. I lift myself from her, allowing her head to fall lightly onto the pillow behind. I draw my wet fingers down from her forehead, smudging the shades as I try to rub the paint away. But as I wipe away her painted mask, I see a woman beneath, a beautiful woman whose eyes have settled on me… At the end of the day she’s still a woman, and every woman I have every loved, who has ever meant anything to me, has just caused me pain. Faces from my past flash into my head… Is it only a matter of time before I kiss Darcy goodbye and she becomes no more than a memory? Then, like so many times before, I will forget her, pick myself up and start my life over.

I lean my arm past her and turn off the light, then once more hold her in my arms.

S
unlight filters through the kitchen window. Taking sips of tea from my mug, I sit at the table peering into her eyes. She smiles and looks away, playing with the spoon in her cup. My eyes tell me how much morning suits her; she looks kinda cute dressed in her ladybird pyjamas and a pink towel wrapped around her head. I glance down at my plate and stretch out, grabbing two pieces of toast from the toast rack. Our fingers collide as she does the same, and I hear a giggle as she jumps back in her seat.

“Er, you can have it.”

“No, honestly you, Snow,” she says, passing me both slices.

Sweet, but kind of awkward, like the morning after the night before; it’s just the sex thing never happened. Words elude me after what she told me last night; what do I say to her? Do I touch her, kiss her, leave her alone? She’s not just a woman; in the last few hours she’s become a predicament, though it’s one I’m sure I can handle.

“Do you want it or not?” She giggles, holding the toast up in front of my face.

My fingers wrap themselves around the crust, at the same time holding onto her fingers. Her glance catches mine mid-table, and this time it isn’t one to be broken, but one to be savoured.

The table vibrates, and her eyes dip towards her phone.

“Oh God, it’s Sebastian.”

“Who?”

“Sam’s uncle.”

I frown. Losing her smile, she pulls her hand from mine and whips the towel from around her head, letting her damp hair fall free. I can see a hesitance, the way her face draws in as she takes the call.

“Hooper, how is he?”

The chair legs screech beneath her as she gets to her feet; she turns round with her back towards me and then with slow steps makes her way towards the chrome sink. I can hear running water and see her arm move as she turns the tap first on, then off.

“Is there nothing else you can do?” I hear her ask, followed by a silence.

She half turns towards me; her dark brows sit high, her eyes wide.

“I’ve got money, Darc,” I say. “It may be worth us getting a second opinion.”

She rubs the palm of her hand across her forehead, and then with a rather blank expression she shakes her head. She holds her hands out as if I have all the answers, a crystal ball beneath the table that can solve everything.

I sit looking up at her, running my fingers down the length of my un-shaven face.

“In that case, this is a decision only you can make.”

She stands holding the phone, but says nothing. Seeing the pain on her face, it feels as though I’m intruding somehow, so I take a last sip of tea from my mug, stand, straighten my suit and leave the decision and the kitchen to her.

I bend down to pick up a newspaper from the hall floor, then go and sit in the lounge and flick through the pages. I reach page thirty-two and hear the front door slam; I imagine that the force she used must have wrenched the hinges from the frame. I know the decision she has made.

I slip my wallet from my trouser pocket, locate the dog-eared corner and pull out the photo of Darcy and Hooper.

“Looks like it’s farewell then, old boy. Shame I didn’t get to know you a little better.”

I glance down into his dark brown eyes, and can’t help wondering if he knew.

“Damn you, Hooper, you never brought the ball back; only that once, only for me.”

I think back to the funeral, the one day he did bring it back to me; had it been a sign, his way of saying goodbye?