He has hardly slept a wink. Lying in bed, he has run the past events over and over in his head. Her asking for help, hand outstretched for him to take; the ride back sitting next to each other in the tube, going to Mary's office; the shared smiles afterwards. The kiss.
He takes his phone from the nightstand and looks for her message, even though he's read it at least five times and he knows it by heart.
Got home safe. See you tomorrow. X
If somebody had told him just that morning that Anna would kiss him, he would have laughed. It would have been nothing but a wonderful fantasy.
But it happened, it actually happened.
He saw her leave the glass of wine on the table, approach him slowly, eyes down, and he didn't realise what was about to happen until her soft lips were on his. It felt like electricity, so sudden and intense, and yet soft, uncertain, slow.
She looked at him, the brightest blue eyes he has ever seen, and he decided he needed to do it properly. The way she was meant to be kissed.
Tired of tossing and turning, and eager to see her, he arrives at the restaurant at half past five. It's too early, but he doesn't care. He prefers being here, where her presence is almost tangible. Five minutes later he hears the back door open. She is early as well.
His heart starts beating madly. What should he do now? How are they suppose to behave with one another? To greet one another?
He exits her office, she is hanging her jacket next to the apron.
"You're early," she says, with a small smile. Her eyes doesn't quite meet his, though, and he fears the worst.
"So are you," slowly, he approaches her, hands behind his back. Just as the night before, he knows she has to be the one making the first move.
She looks at him. For a moment it looks as if she won't move, but then she takes a tentative step in his direction.
He opens his arms a little, and she hugs him, burying her head in his chest with a deep sigh.
"How are you?" he asks, circling his arms around her thin frame.
"Good," she says, looking up at him. Her eyes are bright, like the night before, and her cheeks slightly flushed. He bends down, slowly, giving her time to step back if she wants to. She stands on her tiptoes and a moment later all he can think of is the soft texture of her lips.
It's tentative at first, mouths barely moving, light touches and explorations. He likes it like this, but he also knows there is more, so much more, which he is eager to explore. John moves slowly, turning the touches into small, soft bites, tracing the contour of her lips, looking for signs that she likes what he's doing.
Anna moves her hands up his back to draw him as close as possible, and her body pressed against him makes him bolder. One of his hands moves to softly caress the nape of her neck, while the tip of his tongue joins with her lips, asking for permission. She opens her mouth and he feels her tongue, sending electric shocks through his body. The kiss is not slow anymore, there is nothing shy or careful in it, as her lips become hungry on his, almost demanding, and he complies.
A moment later, though, she is pushing him, gently, and he gives a small step back. Both are panting slightly. He looks into her eyes and is infinitely relieved to see she is still smiling.
"I'm sorry," she says, her cheeks now bright pink. "I- that went out of control."
"I'm not sorry," he smiles, and with the tip of his finger he places a loose strand of golden hair behind her ear.
Anna grins. "Cheeky." She takes a deep breath. "I need to start doing something… before they come."
"I'll go get your coffee."
"That, Mr Bates, would be lovely."
He smiles, unable to take his eyes off her as she gets into the supply room to put on her apron and become the cleaning lady again.
xxxx
She looks at her hands. A frown of disgust appears. It's late; John has just left her. And then she has started worrying over her hands. She hasn't really thought of them since that first week working at the restaurant. Too long hours brandishing a broom and a mop have left her shoulders sore, and her palms with several blisters.
Shortly after, the pain was gone, and the blisters became callous; Anna just stopped thinking about them. Until that time Mr Bates held her hands for the first time in the kitchen of the restaurant. There had been many thoughts running in her head at the time, shame amongst them.
Afterwards, every time he takes her hands she is self-conscious about it, about how hard are them now.
Anna looks at the bottle on the table, she bought during her break, and opens it. She suspects it won't do much good, especially since she won't stop doing what got her he blisters in the first place. Besides, it's a cheap product. But she has to try.
She puts a generous amount of moisturising on her left palm and rubs it against her right.
Even to her, they still feel rough.
xxxx
"Right," Without preamble or invitation, Patmore has entered his office and, after closing the door, she has let herself crash on a chair with a grunt. "Tell me."
"What?" he says, not especially happy of being interrupted thus. Not when he has been remembering the good morning kiss, or rather kisses, he and Anna have shared that day.
"You are shagging Anna."
"I- what?" He blurts out, genuinely shocked.
"There's something going on between the two of you."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't what-are-you-talking-about me, John Bates. It's not going to work." She stares at him, lips pursed, and he has to fight the urge to both laugh and slap her.
"Ok, just for the sake of the conversation, could you please explain what's in your mind?"
Patmore sighs. "I know you were going to be difficult. I'm talking about you and Anna, and whatever is happening between you two."
"And what makes you think-"
"It's pretty obvious, honestly! I've known you for ages and never, ever, have I see you smile this much. And the way you look at her... you might want to get a grip on yourself."
"I..." he stammers.
"I have to say, it makes a nice change, though, seeing her now. Smiling. Sometimes even chatting. She has a new spring in her step. You can't fail to notice that."
"I haven't," he says, more to himself, as Anna passes in front of his window. He can't stop his smile at the sight of her.
"Listen, Bates," Patmore takes a deep breath. "Would you be careful?"
He has to look at her now. Does she know?
"About what?"
"About her. It's obvious she's had a rough time. Probably still has. So be careful."
"I am being careful," he grunts.
"You better be," she brandishes a menacing finger at him.
"Tell you what," he says, "why don't you mind your own business?"
"You are my own bloody business!" Patmore says indignantly. "And I don't want your shagging messing with it!"
"Would you stop calling it that?"
"Suit yourself. But this my business. I care about you. And her. So don't ruin it."
"What makes you think I would?"
Patmore just shrugs, and exits the office in a slightly less energetic way.
Bates can't stop thinking about it. He would never hurt her, he knows. And yet she is so fragile and unpredictable...
He sighs. He was much better off daydreaming about her, without her chef putting ideas in his head.
xxxx
They are falling into a routine of sorts that is both unsettling and amazing. Whenever she sees him, she doesn't seem able to resist the urge to touch him, to kiss him, to feel his scent as intensely as possible. So they meet early in the morning and exchange kisses that are turning longer and more demanding with every passing day.
It's usually Anna who ends it, scared of that need that has been awaken inside her, and the way her body is reacting towards his. She had sworn that was a part of her that had died the night Green came to her house.
She is not scared of John, not really. She is the one she is afraid of, and the fact that she is not so guarded against him anymore. To be in that fragile place where she will lean on him, really trust him, be vulnerable to him, is the most scary perspective she can think of.
John respects the fact that she needs some time and some space, and for that, she is grateful. At night they don't kiss as much. She tries to finish her tasks early and they sit on the wooden table, once everybody's gone home, and talk.
Three nights after that first kiss, she dares asking him again
"How come you went to jail?"
He gives her a dry chuckle and pours more wine into their glasses.
"I wish there was a way for you to know without me telling you. But then, I know it's only fair you hear it from me."
He doesn't seem to be really distressed, but hearing him talk like this unsettles her.
"I was married," he begins with a deep sigh, "and working at a restaurant as a maître. Vera... we had known each other for a while, and were married for a couple of years."
"Was it a happy marriage?" She asks, wondering where would the story go.
"I... can't tell you." He looks thoughtful at the glass in his hands. "I wasn't unhappy. But I guess deep down I knew things could be better. Only I never really dared doing something about it, despite the fact that we used to fight a lot." John sighs. "Anyway. She went to the restaurant one night, saying that she was looking for me. They let her in, of course, and told her to wait in the back. And then... she took off with the earnings of the entire week."
"She what?"
"It was well planned. From talking to me, she knew what to look for and where."
Anna looks at him, thoroughly confused. "But then... if it was she who did it, how come you ended up in prison?"
John gives her a grimace. "It's not that simple. By the time I left, they had already discovered the theft and called the police. When I got home she was there, packing. She told me she had done it for us and that we'd better run for it. I- I just couldn't. Wouldn't. So she said she'd go on her own... and that's when the police came. And that's when she told me she was pregnant."
Of all possible things, Anna could honestly say she would have never expected this. "Pregnant?" She says with a small voice. "So you have a child? Where is he?"
"I don't have a child."
He's looking at the table now, and she can see the pain in his eyes. Slowly, she puts her hand over one of his.
"She lied, you see. On many accounts." He whispers hoarsely. "She knew I'd take the blame, if nor for her, for the child. So I did, and she lied for several weeks until I was processed. One day she comes to visit and tells me the truth, and that she was filing for a divorce and going away."
"And didn't you think of...?"
"Telling the truth and accuse her? I... I was convinced I was going to be a father. That thought kept my spirits when I was in jail. When she told me... it was as if that child had died. I lost my will to fight, I had nothing to fight for."
"So you stayed for two years."
"I did."
She doesn't know what to say, shocked by a story she never thought he could have behind. After a moment, Anna stands up and takes the seat next to him, while his eyes follow her.
"You are the bravest, most noble man I know," she says.
"Or just plain stupid."
She caresses his jaw with the tip of her fingers. "You know that's not true."
"As long as you think so," he smiles a little.
She places a small kiss on his lips. "I do."
xxxx
A week after their first kiss, she gets a phone call from Mary, and they go to her office together.
This time Mary allows him to stay, as she rants away her progress on the case.
"That useless, good-for-nothing, sodding bastard!" Anna sits back, a little intimidated but actually enjoying the description of Murray.
"So you did talk to him?"
"Yes I did," Mary snaps. "Old condescending pig! Talking about experience and leaving it to the grown-ups and calling me missy!"
"And the case?" Anna asks.
"The case! I'll tell you about the case. He's the one who should be in jail! Most certainly not you!"
"But what's he done so far?" John asks.
"Nothing! At all!"
"What do you mean 'nothing'?" Anna asks, as her worst suspicions become a fact.
"I'm sorry, not nothing," Mary replies. "He's been stealing your money. That's what he's been doing."
"But I don't understand." Mary looks at her, an eyebrow quirked. "I mean," Anna hastens to add, "that he's a bastard, yes, I can see that. What I don't get is why the people on Green's side are not doing a thing either?"
"There's no such people." Mary grabs a notebook from her desk and her eyes dart through one of the pages. "No family, no close friends as far as we know, and amazingly enough no girlfriend." Her voice drips sarcasm. "Which means it's up to the prosecutor to push things around and he doesn't seem to be in a hurry."
Anna feels her heart sink. "So what am I to do?"
"We'll do the pushing," Mary replies. "You're being held with no prove. It's up to us to move things around. That is... if you hire me." She smiles confidently and Anna grins back.
"I'm actually looking forward to tell Murray he's fired."
"Good."
xxxx
When everybody goes home that night, John and Anna meet in an embrace that speaks of longing.
"It feels like ages since this morning," he says. "You look tired, let's take you home."
She nods, "I am tired. And so glad tomorrow's Wednesday."
During the car ride she barely says a word. He sees her frown at some point, her lips pursed, but he decides to wait and see if she decides to speak to him. At some point she grabs his hand, and he squeezes her gently, but she stays silent.
When they arrive, he is ready to say good-night, despite the fact that her silence has left him restless.
"Would you…" she starts, and bites her lip.
"What?"
"Would you come up for a moment? To talk?"
He doesn't know what to feel about this. Elation, mixed with trepidation. He parks, and when he steps into the pavement, she takes his hand. She doesn't say a word until they are inside her room and then, without preamble, she hugs him.
He circles his arms around her. "What is it, Anna?"
She sighs, "I'm scared."
It's foolish to ask, and he knows it, but he knows she need to speak about it. He rubs his hands against her back and she sighs again.
"I don't want to be convicted. I don't want to go back to prison."
Now he has to look at her. "Whatever gave you this idea?"
Her eyes are bright with unshed tears and she looks pale. "My case officer said that I'm better off like this. On bail. That if the investigation moves forward, I might be found guilty."
"But you're not!"
She arches an eyebrow at him. "You of all people know that that doesn't always matter."
He doesn't have an answer to this.
"What if Mary's investigation just make them decide quicker that I am guilty? What if I'm cutting my time short?"
"You don't know, one way or the other. You don't know if the prosecutor is collecting evidence against you as we speak. You do know that Mary can prevent it. Isn't it better to have the upper hand?"
She sighs, and after a moment she finally nods. "You're right. Of course you are. But I'm so scared," tears trail down her cheeks and he wipes them with his thumb, before pulling her closer.
He knows she doesn't need to hear empty words.
"You know," she speaks again, after a while. "When I first came out, I didn't care. Not really. I'd lost everything. What difference would it make being inside or out?"
"Don't talk like that."
"But it's the truth. And didn't you feel the same when you were in jail? You said so. So that's how I felt. Only now I don't think like that anymore. I want out."
"Good."
"It's your fault, you know?" she looks at him again, and he sees a tiny smile dancing in the corners of her lips. "You're the one that makes me want to be out of this. You're the reason."
His heart seems to ache with this simple yet so meaningful confession. He bends down and kisses her briefly. "I'm so glad." Only, something doesn't feel right. "I don't want to be the reason, though. I want you to fight for yourself."
"I know," she says. "That's what I meant. You've made me believe I'm worth fighting for… it sounds so silly…"
"It doesn't."
She looks at him for a long moment. "Would you stay? Please?"
He holds her tighter. "Of course I will."
"It might be terribly uncomfortable." She says, and points at the small bed against the wall and he chuckles.
"I happen to like your bed very much," he pulls her by her hands and sits on it. She turns off the lights. A warm glow from the streetlamp below filters through the window and he finds it oddly cosy. As she settles on the crook of his arm, he sighs satisfied and holds her even closer. "See? Perfect."
She chuckles, and caresses his cheek with the tip of her fingers. He takes her hand on his and kisses it. "Get some rest," he mutters against her skin.
"You too. And… thanks... for staying."
"Don't thank me. Really. Right now, right here next to you... this is the only place in the world I want to be."
She snuggles even closer and, a short moment later, he hears her breathing even.
xxxx
She wakes up, his warm body against hers. She moves, slowly, to find a new position without waking him up.
"Are you alright?" he mumbles.
"Yes," she says, finding a new soft spot next to him. He moves as well, and leans on his elbow, his eyes fixed on her. "You know," he says softly. "I could get use to this."
"To what?"
"Waking up next to you."
She beams at him. "Me too."
He bends down and kisses her, slowly, and she likes the fact that he is taking his time, allowing her to properly wake up. She lets out a soft giggle and caresses his cheek.
"I like your stubble."
Her hand moves to his neck, and she pulls him to her. The slow kiss suddenly awakes that feeling that seemed to be right under the surface of her skin these days. Her lips have a will of their own and suddenly there is nothing cautious on them as they claim his, or in the way her tongue darts in and out his mouth. He reacts instantly, and their pace is quicker, urgent. His hand is on her neck, tangling on her hair. She draws closer and guided by instinct, she slides a leg between his. John gasps, and she feels his body react to the heat of the moment. He kisses her neck, trailing a path to her ear and back to her lips. Her hands run up and down his back, and settle on his neck.
Anna wants to explore further. She wants him to touch her, to taste her the way she is tasting him. He moans against his lips and she wants him, so very much.
"Wait," he says hoarsely. Leaning back on his elbow he looks down at her. Her hands are still on his shoulders. His mouth is slightly swollen, his hair ruffled. "I- I don't think we should do this."
It's like a very heavy weight dropping on the pitch of her stomach. She thought her story would not be important, that he could see beyond that and just look at her, a woman in front of a man. She had hoped that, even if she had been spoiled, he would still want her. "All right," she says, recoiling from him and trying hard for her voice not to reveal how hurt she is.
"You don't understand," he hastens to say.
"I do. You don't want me," her voice is barely audible. She doesn't want him to explain. She doesn't need him to.
"Oh god, Anna, of course I do. I mean, look at you." He cups her cheek and his voice sounds urgent. "You're the most wonderful, beautiful woman in the world, and I just want to… I want to kiss every inch of your skin, I want to touch you so very much… but I want you to be sure this is what you want. Us."
She is looking at him, mesmerised. Is it possible that he is telling the truth?
"I love you," he says, caressing her cheek, and her heart seems to stop. "And if we do this, I want you to know. I don't want you to feel wanted, I want you to feel loved, above everything."
"You…" she whispers. She wants to say she loves him, but the words get caught in her throat. "I don't-"
"Shh. You don't need to say anything," he says, placing two fingers on her lips.
She traces his jaw with the tip of her fingers. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" She kisses him again, much slower this time. "I do want this," she whispers against his lips. "I know I've been keeping you at arm's' length. And it feels as if it has taking me ages to get to this point. But the truth is, I want this. I want us."
John smiles, a look of wild happiness in his eyes. He bends lower again, and her mouth is ready to welcome him. This time he explores her neck, and trails kisses up her cheek, while his hands toy with her hair. He finds her hair band and pulls it, golden locks spread on the pillow, and he stops just to look at her.
"God, you're beautiful," he breathes, before resuming his kissing. The way he says it makes her believe it.
Their hands explore, their lips taste, and she revels in every touch, in every patch of skin his hands discover. She senses he wants to go slow, but she is suddenly eager, and her leg slides between his again. At some point he tries to take off her sweatshirt; Anna sits up for a moment and helps him. He has a mischievous smile she has never seen before, and it's as enticing as his kisses.
His hands caress her skin, and he kisses her shoulders, her neck, her cleavage. She takes his hand and places it on her breast, she knows he would doubt before doing it, even if he wants it. John takes a deep breath at the contact.
Her hands are working her way under his jumper and shirt, too, until he sits up again, to take off his clothes, and one second after, she is pulling his body against hers again. His skin on her feels soft, and she is torn between wanting to touch, kiss, and explore, all at once.
When he finally ventures a hand between her thighs, her hands stop her caressing his shoulders; she has gone rigid without being aware of it.
"Anna?" he searches for her eyes; she sees concern in his.
"Go on," she says in a hoarse whisper. She has to be in control of her body again. "Slowly."
He looks at her, and his other hand cups her cheek. "I'll never do anything you don't want me to do."
"I know," she says, noticing that her chin is quivering slightly. "I want this."
He kisses her then, slowly, warmly, and she feels her body relax under his touch, as his hand continues caressing the inner side of her thighs. This time he feels her, slowly, barely touching at the beginning. Instinctively, she pushes her hips against his hand, and he goes deeper.
"Oh, John," she mutters, getting lost in a sensation that seems to be new.
He takes his time, exploring first, and then finding out the places where she likes being touched. At some point she starts rocking her hips against his hand, and he moves faster. She mutters his name again; he kisses her, biting and licking. She feels it deep inside her body, the shadow of an emotion, an explosion of sorts she remembers from another time. It comes closer, she feels an indescribable need and the response to it right there... She gasps, barely aware that she has arched her back and shuddered, and with a final moan, she lies still.
Her eyes are closed and she is smiling.
"Are you alright?"
"What does it look like?" she says, looking at him. Alright is probably the understatement of the century.
He feigns a frown. "Yes…" he says slowly, looking at the naked body under his. "You look fine to me."
She chuckles. Anna enjoys discovering this cheeky side of his. John takes his lips in hers, slowly. It's not over yet. She knows, and she wants him to know. Slowly, she ventures her hand low until her fingers meet his length. He lets out a groan and she smiles, satisfied.
Slowly, she makes him lie on his back, suddenly eager to explore as well, with touches, caresses and well placed kisses.
"Oh, Anna," he says, as her hand moves rhythmically and her mouth repeats the paths his has traced on her body.
"I need you so much," she hears herself say.
For a moment they just look at each other. Then, Anna starts to move slowly, her eyes never leaving his, until she feels his tip at her entrance. It's excruciating, but she wants to make it slow, slow enough to cast away any memory of any previous time. She needs to be aware of his every move. Finally, she thrusts, and he fills her in the most wonderful way.
They move in unison, and their voices mix, muttering their names, as their bodies meet once and again. She lets out a soft cry, and a moment after, he is undone. Her body collapses against his and they are panting together, their hearts beating madly.
She can't say how much time has passed. The bluish light has been replaced by the morning golden. Anna is still laying on his chest, but her breathing is now deep. His hand caresses her hair and she looks at him.
"Wow," she says.
"Same here."
"You certainly know what you're doing, Mr Bates," she says with an impish smile.
"Well," he says, sounding casual. "You know what they say: it takes two."
Slowly she moves to settle at his side. He reaches for the duvet and covers them both. His hand settles on her hip, and hers on his chest. Looking up, she places a kiss on the tip of his nose and he sighs, beaming; she can't remember the last time she has felt this relaxed and complete.
AN: I am so very sorry for the delay. I am abroad and with no proper Internet connection.
Thanks very much for your patience. And special thanks to that last Guest reviewer, who made some pretty nice questions.
Cheers!
