I am so sorry for the delay - I have been trying to upload for over a week and the site has not been cooperating. Many apologies, espeically to WhosThat who kindly wrote and asked for an update. All your messages and reviews are so encouraging I hope you all had a good Easter/Spring break etc. Anyway I babble on and had better go! Pips

Chapter Thirteen

His lips landed on mine, warm and inviting, moulding to the shape of my mouth and kissing me hard, forcing my mouth open with his tongue. It teased what little breath was left in my mouth, before languorously roaming the inside of the cavity. It was all I could do not to flinch and slap him through the face, but that wouldn't do. Instead, I held my breath; closed my eyes and imagined that this is what I wanted. If I pretended hard enough; with every fibre of my being then maybe it would come true.

"And great, yes, I loved the emotion at the end there." The words of the artistic director broke the moment and I pulled away in blessed relief from James, glaring at his audacity. If looks could kill then he would have fallen over right there.

I stood my hands on my hips, trying to regain my composure and breath. It was an artistic practice; a very valuable session for as dancers we sometimes spent too much time on the technical side of our footwork and forgot about the acting. Two months after being promoted to soloist James and I were to have our first opportunity dancing a principal role.

Therefore on a warm Wednesday afternoon we were in the studio practicing the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. The idea was to make sure that we truly ennobled the scene with the true romance and passion that it was meant to contain. It was a very trying; for it seemed that James definition was to French kiss me as thoroughly as he could at every opportunity. Unfortunately for me the small team watching us thought it made the performance.

It was nearly five by the time I escaped that dratted room, not stopping to allow James a single second alone with me. Knowing his boorish opinions he would believe that the past four hours had rekindled our relationship.

Over the past two months we had danced a variety of roles together. Whilst I could never believe that the playacting passion was convincing, it seemed to be popular with the audiences. Understudying all the major roles meant that most of the time we were not the lead, but two occasions had offered me the opportunity to go out as the prima ballerina. Once when my poor friend had to finally admit that she could not go on dancing on her twisted ankle and had to retire only a couple of hours before curtain up; meaning that I went out in the costume of the Lilac Fairy; the second time when due to artistic differences; James and I were called upon to dance in the modern ballet; Pierrot Lunaire; a rather fantastical piece based on Schonberg's song cycle.

These performances were enough to convince the powers that ruled our fates that as a couple we would enhance the reputation of the company by being promoted to Principals. It was an honour that we had both been working towards the minute we graduated from dance school and now at the age of twenty-seven I had my chance to shine.

Yet, despite the honour and praise that had recently been poured on my dancing I was still unsettled and ill at ease with the way my life was going. I suppose it was partially my fault because I found it easier to bury my head in the sand rather then acknowledge the way my life was.

I took a deep sigh as I stripped off my sweaty practice dress and the tights and pants I wore underneath. Naked and uncaring about my body I strolled into the shower and eased the sweat off my body. My new status accorded me with an upgrade of space and now I had a miniature dressing room all to myself. It still didn't have much room to swing a cat, but it was mine and contained, luxuries beyond luxuries; it's own tiny coffin like shower.

For once I did not have to hurry for we had finished practice early and Tess was with Eric for the day. Therefore I relished in the stream of hot water, washing my hair and conditioning it; critically examining the split ends. Having you hair scraped back most of the time with pins and bands played murder on its condition and I could never find the time or the inclination to go to a salon. After all it was more of an annoyance; spending most of it's time in a bun or under a headdress or wig.

Rinsing my hair and roughly towel drying it I went and sat at my dressing table naked, letting the cool air blowing through the tiny window dry me and studied my reflection in the lighted mirror. My face gazed back at me cool and assessing, grey blue eyes looking at me with …I could not assess the emotion in my face. On the surface it was calm and peaceful, underneath it was as turbulent as the sea.

I had dug myself an emotional hole when it came to my feelings; my emotions and had learnt to hide behind a mask as inflexible and unyielding as the one my housemate wore on his face.

There were days when I hated myself for not being able to show my true feelings and admit that I loved him and needed him. But I was scared to commit myself again and whilst I depended on him for so much; but not confessing that I also needed him emotionally I felt that I could at least keep a modicum of freedom and the ability to walk away. Walk away – the thought sent shivers down my spine. I no longer believed in everlasting love. My parents had split up; my relationship had faltered and failed in a disastrous way. Love was for fools or people with a deep belief. I had already made a fool of myself and so therefore could no longer have a deep belief in it's powers.

And yet I so desperately wanted to be with Eric. That kiss; a few weeks ago was so wonderful and yet so awful. He kissed beautifully – obviously a man with enough experience to know what a woman needed and yet enough tact to make her feel as if she was the only one he ever wanted. We kissed thoroughly and lazily before withdrawing and stood looking at each other in silence.

He broke the spell that we were under and lifting his hand rubbed his knuckles across my cheek. Not wanting to break contact I lifted my hand and held it against his, feeling the softness of his palm; the scratch of the edge of his bandages. Our breathing matched and as I gazed into his eyes I knew; knew that I could not fulfil his dream or mine.

"No," I pulled away from his touch dropping my palm; trying to ignore his bewildered expression. "I don't want to do something that we regret in the morning."

"I won't regret it; I promise."

"You will and I know I will as well." I gave a sad smile. "Eric, I can't do this. I've always told you that. You are wonderful and you don't deserve a basket case like me."

"Maybe I want a basket case like you." He kept his tone light but I could hear the hope in his voice.

"No, Eric no." I stepped back up to him and rising on to my toes placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "You are my best friend and I never want to loose you. Please let's keep it that way."

He nodded in agreement, but I could see the restrain that it took for him to do that. His lips were set in a grim line and his eyes held a look of bewilderment that broke my heart. I offered a watery smile before I turned on my heel and fled. I spent that night silently weeping into my pillow; feeling like an utter bitch.

It could have been so awkward after that, but Eric obviously took my words to heart. Apart from the fact that I did not see him the next morning he did not change the way he behaved towards me at all.

And so, we continued to stumble along; never admitting our feelings; never truly crossing the barriers and yet desperately wanting to be together. Oh, I loved him and yet was so bloody afraid.

My phone vibrating on my dressing table pulled me away from my thoughts and back into reality. The tune was annoyingly upbeat for I refused to have anything remotely ballet or classical. I caught it neatly as it found it's way to the edge of the table and plunged to the floor.

"Hello."

"Ali have you made a move for home yet?" Eric's voice echoed over the line.

"No, just finished. Where are you, thought you down at your parents today? Is Tess okay?"

"She's fine, absolutely fine, but it is such a lovely evening I thought I would stay down and we can have a barbecue. Come down and join us. I know there is a train leaving Victoria at half five – it's the one Dad gets. You can be here for six thirty and if you meet him he'll give you a lift home, he apparently took the car." I could hear the persuasion running through his voice and smiled at his excitement.

"Okay, sounds rather nice. It is so hot up here." I fanned myself exaggeratedly with my free hand. "Do you need anything for Tess?"

"Nope, I think I packed it all and Mum has spares of everything anyway. Great, well give me a call if you can't hook up with Dad and I'll come and pick you up from the station. See you."

"Bye." And with that he disconnected the call leaving me mouthing the words I wouldn't say to him. Love you.

It was a glorious idea to leave the sweaty city. Thankfully there was only another two weeks and then we broke for our annual holiday; letting the opera and touring companies take over the theatre and then I was free. My plans were unsubstantiated at the moment; possibly included throwing myself on the hospitality of Eric's parents.

The train finally pulled into the station and the commuters and tourists staggered off with a weary joy, obviously glad to be at home. I scanned the hordes of business-suited men as I was carried down the platform in a wave, not able to see Edward.

Suddenly I felt a hand at my elbow and he stood there, his eyes crinkling up with the smile that graced his face.

"Ali," he said with obvious pleasure. "Ric called me and said that you would be on the train. He has apparently demanded a barbecue for the evening. Sounds like a glorious idea if you ask me."

"Hello Edward," I kissed his cheek. "How did you tell it was me?"

"Oh you walk like a duck dear," he teased, "it was easy to spot you." I laughed at his rude but accurate statement. A lifetime of perfecting you turnout caused most dancers to walk in the same way they danced; their feet clearly pointing to the sides.

It was only a short journey home and by the time we arrived we could see a lazy curl of smoke drifting up from the back garden. As we got out the car I could smell the inviting aroma of charcoal and woodsmoke. Wandering into the back garden a bark of laughter escaped at the sight of Eric dancing around the fire, poking it with tongs and stepping back every so often as the heat blasted out.

"I hope you aren't going to cook with the fire so high," I commented approaching him as he turned.

"Depends if you like your food charred or not. Isn't charcoal meant to be good for you?"

"I don't think quite like that. Where's Tess?" I smiled unconsciously as he flapped a hand in front of his face as if it would cool him down. A pointless gesture as most of his face was behind plastic.

"Mum's giving her a bath. God it's hot and that fire isn't helping. " He fanned himself again. "Oh for some air," he quoted laconically before turning back to tending the fire, leaving me to search for my daughter.

That was how our conversation was nowadays. Brief, friendly and fun, but without even hinting at the repressed romance and emotion that hovered in the air between us, so intense it was almost palpable.

I wandered into the cool airy house, so welcoming and friendly and went upstairs to the bathroom, hovering in the doorway as I watched Helena lean over the bath singing to my daughter as she sat in the shallow bubbly water laughing. Pain stabbed through me; for the tender scene should have been a grandmother and grandchild. Instead this stranger loved my daughter as much as I loved her son.

"Ali," Helena looked and saw me, "how lovely to see you my dear, I am so glad you decided to come down. Tess has just got in. Do you want to take over and I will finish preparing supper? The travel cot is set up in the spare room and I'll bring her milk up in a few minutes."

As always I did, as I was bid and fifteen minutes later had Tess sitting on my lap in a lovely old rocking chair, the setting sun streaming through the window and highlighting us in a sunbeam. I gently rocked the chair as I hummed away to her. She smelt of baby bath, sunshine and washing power and I buried my nose in her little golden locks, falling in love with her all over again as she cuddled into my chest.

A soft knock on the open door drew my attention away from my daughter and towards Eric standing in the doorway. "I was loathe to disturb you two, you look so peaceful." The smile I gave him in reply said it all. This was always a beautiful moment of my day and it always hurt to miss it when I had a performance on. "Milk," he walked forward brandishing the bottle and Tess looked up from her cuddle to briefly bestow a gummy smile with her solo tooth poking through the bottom gum.

"I'll be down in about fifteen minutes," I said softly, although it was a pointless comment, Eric knew my daughter's routine as well if not better then I did.

"Okay, I'll tell Dad to get cooking, the fire is ready, although I think this stupid mask has actually melted into my face. He bent over Tess and laid a kiss on her curls. "Night-night sweetheart, may angels take you to your dreams."

It was his classic goodnight to her and yet whenever I heard it, my heart literally leapt into my mouth. Perhaps it was the greeting, maybe the annoyance at the rehearsal that afternoon, possibly the magic of the moment – but I could not take my eyes off him as he left the room. For the briefest time I was willing to break my self-imposed vow and throw myself into his waiting arms.

I gave my daughter her bottle, settled her in the travel cot and slipped out the room, intending to go downstairs and join the family. Instead I was distracted as I walked past the bathroom. Out the corner of my eye I glimpsed Eric standing over looking in the mirror over the basin.

I stopped and went and stood in the doorway, fully intending to chat with him, but found the words freezing in my mouth as I took in his appearance.

He had his mask off; the first time I have ever seem him like that and from my point of view I could see a beautifully sculptured face. Without the pressure of the covering the strong jaw line and high cheekbones were clear, the dark hair pushed behind his ears as he lightly rubbed a cream into his skin.

"Are you just going to stand there and prop up the doorway?" There was an acidic note to his voice; one that I had learnt meant his emotions were on the rise.

"Yes, thought it looked as if it were about to fall down actually," I replied mildly. "You nearly finished? It smells as if you father is cooking." Indeed the aroma of roasting meat was wafting through the open window.

"Yes." At that moment he turned so he faced me and I tried not to let my jaw fall open at the sight. The right hand side of his face was a mottled mass of scar tissue creeping down the side of his cheek and over the top of his eyebrow, licking around the edge of his nose. It was red and patchy as it faded into his normal skin.

Seeing is believing and whilst I had looked at photos of him before his accident, for the first time I could truly acknowledge exactly how fantastic he must have looked before his accident. Beauty and the beast in one face. He must have seen the change in my face, for his jaw tightened as he observed me and an eyebrow and rose in a sardonic arch.

"How did your appointment go?" I didn't give him a chance to show his displeasure or annoyance at my reaction. I knew that he was surprised at seeing me standing in the doorway, but then he should have closed the door.

"Okay," he shrugged his shoulder in a typical male reaction, a reply he knew was bound to infuriate.. A smile crept on to his dour face as he saw me bristle and I had to resist the immature urge to cross the distance separating us and give him a good punch.

"And?"

"Do you really want to see?" The smile widened slightly and reached his eyes, changing the mulish expression to one of cautious delight. It had obviously been good news to account for his mood and I nodded my head with enthusiasm.

Encouraged by my reaction his pulled up the grey t-shirt he was wearing and bared his chest. I narrowed my eyes and looked at it, wondering at first what was exactly meant to be on show. It took a good few seconds for the penny to drop that he was showing me what he wasn't wearing more then what he was. The tight strapping that had covered some of his chest had been removed. It had never been as bad as his face but now there was just soft white skin that merged into his own flesh.

There was a definite line where new and old dermatitis met, but otherwise it didn't seem to be at all bad and I left my post at the door to get a closer look. With an interested eye I bent over and examined carefully, looking in detail at the new skin until I heard a long suffering sigh from above me. Raising my head I saw that Eric was still standing holding his t-shirt up.

"Sorry," I watched as he let go, the fabric settling down his torso and I found myself wondering if it felt strange after so many months of having garments underneath it.

"It does tickle slightly."

"What?"

"My t-shirt, it feels slightly weird, very soft and it tickles." He looked at my expression of confusion. "You spoke out loud."

"Oh," I hid my embarrassment with a slight laugh and threw my arms around his neck, aiming my lips for a peck on his bare unscarred cheek, wanting to feel his flesh under my hands. "Congratulations Eric, it's great."

He turned his cheek and my lips grazed across his. We both felt the electricity shock in the touch, only this time I didn't pull away but hesitantly went in for more.

I suppose it was the shock of seeing him without the mask; the memory of my frustrating rehearsal and boorish ex-boyfriend that made me feel it didn't matter, that I could release my guard briefly. We stood there; our arms locked around each other slowly kissing, light pecks on each other's lips, which slid into longer deeper kisses, our mouths opening and tongues invading.

Involuntarily my hand moved to his waist, sliding under his t-shirt so that I could feel the skin, warm and smooth beneath my hand. In retaliation his fingers moved to the neckline of my top and slowly almost frustratingly slowly slipped beneath it's gauzy guard and rested lightly on my bra. At the same time the rhythm of his kissing change; an urgency marking its movement in my mouth. It simply turned me on even more.

The slight pressure against my legs made me realise he was leaning against them, subtly telling me that we should move out the bathroom and I complied. We danced a joined up tango to his old bedroom; neither of us ready to relinquish our hold on each other, before falling on his bed and resuming the ferocious pace of our kissing.

His hand fumbled at my back and I felt the ping of my bra strap release and his hand cover my breast. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realised that not only was he not wearing his glove but also the bandage on his arm had been removed. It would seem that the pressure garments that covered most of his body had been vastly reduced.

My hand traced the contours of his stomach and chest and I was secretly aghast at how sunken and thin it seemed. I could feel the press of ribs against his skin, moving down into his hips. The promise of the muscle that I was so used to in the men I associated with was there, but sadly unexercised and wasted. Maybe I should encourage him to exercise more.

At the moment there seemed to be only one muscle that he wanted to exercise and it was making it's presence known as an unsightly bulge in his jeans. I ran my hands up his sides, lightly tickling his skin, smiling as he squirmed at my touch. Our lips parted and he bought his mouth along my jaw his teeth scraping lightly across my skin; working their way up to my earlobe and grabbing it.

The noise that left my mouth was half laugh; half gasp as he let go of my ear and once again claimed my mouth in a hard and somewhat brutal kiss. It aroused me intensely and I gave back all the emotion, frustration and passion that he poured into me.

We were just on the point of loosing any pretence of control when the call floated from the garden. "Eric, Ali; the food is ready." Helena's voice echoed shrilly up through the window and we both froze at the noise like guilty teenagers making out away from parental eyes.

"Bugger, shit, bugger, bugger, bugger." The litany of curses flooded out of Eric's mouth, but I just lay next to him, my arms crossed over my chest holding my bra in place. I waited for the crushing guilt of reality to come and bear down on me with all its weight; remind me that what I was doing was wrong.

A few cautious moments later it still hadn't arrived and I lightly brushed my hand across my chest, impatiently waiting for the feeling. Instead; the slight movement caused my aroused body to react and a wave of repressed orgasm flooded over me in an instant. Suddenly I felt as if I had received an electric shock, my teeth, hair and hands all felt on end. A fuzzy feeling crept through my body and colours danced in front of my eyes; leaving me silently gasping by Eric's side.

I floated down to earth and looked at the man next to me sheepishly. "Having fun without me?" The tone was gruff and sounded annoyed, but I guessed that was more at the setting then my reaction. I was still unable to do much more then smile dopily at him.

When I failed to reply he sighed and pushed his hair out of his face; retrieving the hair band that I had tugged out and tied it back again. "I'd better," he trailed off with a jerk of his head towards the bathroom, indicating that he had better put his mask back on; encase his features once again.

"Eric," I found my voice and sat up, reached up and pulled his face down towards mine. I guided his lips to mine and kissed them again, tugging his bottom lip away with my teeth before letting go.

"Go downstairs or Mum will come up looking and I don't want to be caught making out in my bedroom. She can still make me feel as if I am thirteen years old! I'll be down in five." He dropped a kiss on my forehead and pushed me off the bed.

I took a deep breath, straightened my top and prepared to look like a mother who was putting her daughter to bed and not a wanton woman ready to have sex with a man in his childhood bedroom. It would take most of my acting skills.

Despite the frustration and interruptions, it was a lovely evening. We sat around the large outside table; the sound of bird song and the scent of dozens of roses in the garden scenting the air. The sun seemed reluctant to set and even at ten o'clock there were still remnants of light streaking the horizon.

Eric and I finally made our excuses, partially reluctant to leave the welcome and comfort of his family home; partly desperate to get back to the flat and finish what had been started upstairs.

He carried out my sleeping daughter downstairs, a ragdoll asleep in his arms with that curious bonelessness that sleeping children posses. He gently installed her in the back of the huge Range Rover that he drove and we made our way home up the darkening motorways and into central London.

We got home quickly; the lateness of the hour easing the traffic and installed Tess in her cot. Eric joined me and we stood there for a moment watching her curled up; asleep on her stomach; her little face pressed into her teddy bear. "I sometimes think I could stand here and watch her forever," I murmured, not wanting to wake her.

"I know what you mean," he replied, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his side. We stood there; locked in an embrace before he softly kissed my forehead. "Come to bed with me."