He hovered nervously in the hotel lobby, anxious in case she changed her mind and decided not to come. It had been obvious, just by looking at her, that she was battling internally with her thoughts, her wants and her sense of what was right. Perhaps it hadn't been the right thing to come down here and surprise her and he had felt slightly taken aback by her description of him as a stalker. Was that how he was coming across? He'd never been the one to chase in a relationship before, most women seemingly grateful for his attentions. Even Julie had been all over him like a rash practically from the moment they'd met. But this was different. Getting to this point with Christina had been a slow burn over a long period of time, a completely new experience for him. Perhaps he was coming across as being too needy. Perhaps he did need to take a step back and let her go at her own pace. He had done it before, prior to her leaving Stewart, but again, this time was different. Back then she had wanted to be with him; now she was saying that she didn't.
He needed to convince her that this notion of being apart was the wrong one, that they belonged together, but he needed to do it in a way that didn't spook her or make her think that he was being overbearing. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for pushing her away.
Just as the hands on his watch hit seven o'clock, the circular door of the hotel started to move and he watched as she came towards him across the lobby, dressed simply in a blue dress. If she had intended to convey that she was no longer interested, she had gone the wrong way about it. Why make the effort otherwise?
"Hi," she said when she reached him. "Sorry I'm a bit late. It took ages to get a taxi." She made no move to greet him physically and, though he wanted to, he too held back.
"You look great," he complimented her, "and you're not late. In fact, you're right on time."
"Well, you know how I like to be punctual."
He forced himself to refrain from reaching for her hand and instead led her towards the hotel restaurant, giving his name at the door before they were shown to their table.
"This is nice," she said, as they sat down. "I've walked past here a few times over the last week or so, but I've never been inside."
"You should see the room," he said without thinking, gratified that she at least smiled before turning to her menu. She didn't protest when he ordered wine and once their food orders had been taken, he fought desperately for a neutral topic of conversation. "So, how have you been spending your time since you got here?"
"Walking mostly," she replied. "Up and down the seafront. The locals probably think I'm mad, especially in this weather."
"How's your back?"
"Getting better. At first, it was quite achy, but I think the exercise has definitely helped. It still feels a bit numb around the wound area though."
"Well, you probably lost a few nerve endings," he said as the waiter appeared to pour the wine. "Cheers." He held out his glass and she clinked it with hers. "What about your dad?"
"What about him?"
"Well, this is the first time you've seen him in a long time. I suppose I just wondered…"
"He's been good, great actually. I thought it would be difficult, but it hasn't been. He seems a lot more mellow than I remember. We haven't talked much about our past as a family, but I'm guessing that'll come eventually." She paused and eyed him carefully. "So, who did you speak to in order to get his address?"
"An old mate of mine from Hendon," he replied. "He's a Sergeant down here so, I gave him your dad's name and he was kind enough to look him up." Her face pinched slightly, and he leaned forwards. "I didn't do it in order to give him a hard time. I wasn't even sure he would be known."
"But he is?"
"Some old stuff from years back, nothing major." He paused. "I'm sorry. I know it was inappropriate, but I didn't see any other way of getting in contact with you."
"Other than letting me get in contact with you when I wanted to?"
"Yeah, well, after what you said to me in the hospital, I suppose I was afraid that the more time I let pass, the less chance I had of convincing you what you'd said was a mistake." He hadn't meant to touch on the subject so quickly, but there it was.
"It wasn't a mistake."
He took a deep breath, steeling himself not to jump in too quickly and have the whole conversation descend into an argument. "Shall I tell you what I don't understand?" She paused and then nodded. "After Stewart stabbed you, in the hospital, we were talking together as though nothing had changed. I told you Kim knew about us. I told you that she would try and make out that I had done something wrong, and you agreed with me that that wasn't the case. You said to me that all we had done, was fall in love with one another." She blinked. "And then you spoke to her, and the next thing I know, you're telling me that you're not in love with me at all. Can you see where I'm coming from?"
"I told you what she said."
"I don't think you did. What did she say to you, specifically?" She looked away. "Christina?"
Sighing heavily, she lifted her gaze to meet his. "She said…she tried to make out that you were predatory, that you'd taken advantage of me because I'm younger and junior to you and that I was vulnerable. She said that relationships weren't permitted because a senior officer could ask a junior officer he was in a relationship with to do things he wouldn't ask anyone else to do." She paused. "She said that people would know that I had slept with my DI and that that would hurt my career and…and that your chances of promotion would be non-existent, just like Gordon Wray's…" she shook her head. "I don't want that, for either of us."
He fought down the anger that had flared through him at her words. He'd murder Kim next time he saw her. "I told you I'd leave the Met."
"And I told you that wasn't what I wanted. I don't want you to give up doing what you love, Frank. Whatever you did instead, you would end up resenting me for having made that choice and where would that leave us?"
"It's my choice to make."
"I won't let you ruin your career and…and I don't really want to ruin my own either."
The starters arrived at that moment and silence descended over the table as they ate. Once finished, he looked back at her again. "So, tell me the truth." She frowned. "Do you love me?"
She put her cutlery down, took a long drink from her glass and then met his gaze again. "No."
"I don't believe you."
"Then we're just going round in circles, aren't we?"
"Look, forget what you know about me, or what you think you know about me. Forget about how career-driven you think I am. I'm not going to lie; my career is important to me, always has been. But you mean more to me than any pips ever could. When I was married to Julie, my career always came first. What does that tell you about how I felt about her compared to how I feel about you?"
"Frank…" she leaned forwards, "we don't know each other, not really…"
"Well, that's rubbish for a start."
"No, it isn't. We've been intimate for, what, two months? And in that space of time, I've left my husband and wound up in hospital, not to mention all the shit that came before. You're supposed to get to know someone before you fall in love with them. I don't know you, not in that way."
"So, what do you want to know? Ask me anything."
"That's not what I meant… and besides, you don't know me either. We've been so quick to label it love when all it's been is…well…sex."
He sat back in his chair and shook his head, "You're lying to me and to yourself."
"I'm not. Being here has given me the chance to really think about everything that's happened between us. Like I said before, you've been a good friend and I've appreciated having you to lean on and support me, especially over Stewart but…we made a mistake allowing it to become physical."
The arrival of the main courses put paid to any further immediate conversation, though he couldn't help but feel the loss of his appetite. The conversation wasn't going as he had hoped. What she was saying almost sounded rational and yet he knew – he knew – how he felt…how she felt…
"So, the truth is…" he said slowly. "You're not prepared to risk your career for me."
"The DCI made it pretty clear that, if this continued, I'd be transferred and then everyone would know, or at least suspect, what I had done."
"Fallen in love with your senior officer."
"Slept with my inspector. Like it or not, Frank, that stigma would do me a lot more harm than it would you. If people know about us, the most you're going to get is a pat on the back. I'm more likely to be labelled a slut, trying to sleep my way to the top." She speared a tomato with her fork. "I don't want that, especially when…when I don't love you. Why would I risk my career for someone I don't love?"
Her words felt like a body blow but he ate as much of the meal as he could and then drained his wine glass. "So, you're telling me that's it then." She nodded. "Just like that? We just…cut ourselves off from each other?"
"We go back to how it was before any of this started."
"And just how far back do you want me to go, Chris?"
"I don't understand…"
"Do you want me to go right back to the beginning, to when we first met? When we couldn't stand the sight of each other?"
"You mean when you treated me like shit? I think we've had a couple of goes on that horse actually, not just right at the beginning." She paused. "I'd rather we go back to being colleagues…friends…"
"Yeah, well I'm not sure I can do that," he replied, his wounded pride growing and finding its only outlet in crudity. "I'm not very good at just being colleagues and friends with women. After all, I'm Frank Burnside; there's always an agenda, always an undertone. I've always liked Viv's legs, imagined a few times what they would be like around my waist and, as for you, well…face down on my desk has always been a favourite fantasy of mine. Shame this is all going to end without it being fulfilled."
"Stop it," she said quietly.
"Stop what? Being who I am? Who you expect me to be? You want to go back to the way it was, darling, then you need to take the rough with the smooth. I'll be on your back like the Gestapo, injury or no injury, divorce or no divorce, court case or no court case. You won't get some much as an inch from me."
"That's sexual harassment!"
"Is it? I'd never have known. There was me thinking I would just be doing my job." The words brought him no pleasure and the look on her face clearly demonstrated that he had struck a blow, but his hurt wouldn't let him stop. "Not to mention the fact that I move in higher circles in the Met than you. Imagine what the topics of conversation will be. Christina Lewis, the little slutty WDC at Sun Hill. You're worrying about rumours? I could make it fact. The things I could say about you…" In that instant, he knew he had gone too far. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears and, before he could react, she leapt up from the table, grabbed her bag and began hurrying towards the restaurant door. "Shit…" he got to his feet to follow her, bumping into the waiter as he did so. "Stick it on my room!" he yelled, hurrying through the tables as though he was chasing a suspect, emerging out into the lobby in time to see her making for the main door. "Chris, wait!" He pursued her through the door, catching her by the arm. "Wait!"
"You're disgusting!" she yelled, rounding on him, her cheeks damp with tears. "Why would you say that?! Why would you threaten to do that to me?! To me?! Why, Frank?!"
"I would never…I would never do that, Chris, you know I would never do that!"
"You just sat there and told me that you would!"
"I'm sorry!" Shame threatened to overwhelm him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I swear I didn't! I'm just…just hurt that you would say those things, make it seem as though what we had was meaningless! I would never do anything to hurt you, you must know that! I love you and you love me, regardless of that performance in there! All I want is be with you. All I want to do is protect you…" He put his arms around her and drew her into him, kissing her before she had time to react, waiting for her to pull away, hit him or knee him in the groin.
None of those things happened. Instead, she kissed him back, the full force of her body weighted against his own, her arms around his neck, pulling him tighter as though she wanted to drink in every part of him. He pulled back and kissed her neck, her breath hitching in her throat as he did so, his hands trailing unashamedly to her bottom and pulling it into his groin. A wolf whistle suddenly sounded, and he pulled back in time to see a group of teenagers standing a few feet away, laughing and pointing. Well, let them look.
He looked down into her face, at the faint tracks of moisture that lingered on her skin. "Come upstairs," he said quietly.
"Yes," she replied without a moment's hesitation, and he squeezed her tightly before propelling her back towards the door.
XXXX
She couldn't fault the choice of room, least of all the view. The large picture window offered a vista right out across the sea which, in daylight, she had no doubt would be spectacular. As she stood, taking in her surroundings, she wondered if he had chosen it because he had known they would end up there together. She was a fool, she knew that. She should have taken the crude words he had chosen to throw at her across the table and used them as ammunition to make her point, as hurtful as they had been. She should have kept running, prevented him from taking hold of her and refused to come to the room. But when he had touched her, when he had put his arms around her and kissed her, she had felt as though every resolve in her body had shattered into a million pieces. She wanted him…needed him…even if it was only for one last time.
The zip on her dress made a soft sound as he lowered it to the base of her spine before gently prising the garment from her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. His lips found the skin at the back of her neck, and she heard herself gasp as he kissed her there, his hands moving to her waist and then sliding up to her breasts. Turning, she kissed him properly, her tongue flicking across his as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt and sent it fluttering to the carpet before moving to the belt of his trousers. Once he was naked, she pushed him gently backwards towards the bed, where he sat down and drew her between his legs. His mouth was hot on the flesh of her belly, his hands reaching behind her to find the clasp of her bra and loosen it, slowly pulling it downwards and away from her chest, his lips instantly seeking her breasts.
She gasped again as hot shoots of pleasure flashed between her thighs, his hands moving to her waist, pushing her tights down before sliding inside her underwear. Suddenly he stopped and she realised that he had felt the edges of her wound slowly healing at the bottom of her back. He looked up and met her gaze and she simply nodded for him to continue.
"I want to go down on you," he murmured gently, his words muffled against her skin.
"Me first," she replied, greeting his look of surprise with a smile. "Lie back." He did as bid and, moments later, was groaning under the pressure of her mouth as she slid it up and down his shaft. His hand found its way into her hair, holding her there as she accepted as much of him as she could, feeling him fill her with his girth and tasting the salty tang of precum.
"No, no, no…" he said eventually, gently pulling her head up and kissing her. "My turn now."
She had no desire to protest, and as his head dipped between her own thighs, she let her mind go blank, erase any thought of the future or what would happen once it was all over and concentrate only on how incredible the sensation of his tongue was against her clit. She could hear her punctured breath and feel her body start to shake under his touch, but rather than let her complete her journey, he slid away from her, rolling her gently over onto one side and positioning himself behind her. Lifting her leg up slightly, he pushed himself inside her, one hand straying between her legs to gently stroke what was ready to explode.
She had never come through penetrative sex before. In all the years with Stewart he had either used his fingers or she hadn't come at all. In the short time she had been with Frank, he had always ensured she had orgasmed, but never simultaneously with him and she felt a frisson of excitement shoot through her at the prospect. It was an intoxicating rhythm, his hips moving against hers, his fingers circling her, his breath hot on her neck. Seconds later, she felt the spasm in her groin, heard her breathing quicken and a cry escape from her throat as she came around him, clamping down hard, her slickness coating him. She reached behind her to pull him harder inside her, feeling his body convulse under the strength of his own release as they writhed together.
"Now tell me you don't love me," he breathed, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close to him as they basked in the embers of their own pleasure.
She said nothing, a hard lump of emotion rising in her throat. But she also knew, in that moment, she didn't want to leave his side and so she lay in the bed far longer than she had intended, while he gently caressed her, before the call of nature led her to the bathroom. Once there, she found herself marvelling at the large rainfall shower and when he appeared behind her and asked if she wanted to try it out, she felt powerless to refuse.
And so, they made love again, under the fierce spray, him taking care not to hurt her as he pressed her gently back against the wet glass and slipped inside her once more before crouching before her to, yet again, take her to the tipping point of her own ecstasy.
"You can't beat good water pressure," he commented as they dried themselves back in the bedroom.
"No, you can't," she replied, reaching for her clothes and dressing herself. "Would you mind?" she turned her back on him and gestured to the zip of her dress. There was an unmistakable pause before she felt his hands on her again and the pull of it being raised. "Thanks."
"I thought you might want to stay," he said, and she paused before turning to face him again, knowing that this was it. The moment she had been dreading, but the one she couldn't avoid. "I mean, I didn't just book this room for myself."
"Never short on confidence, eh Frank," she replied with a smile. "I'd better get back."
"Worried your dad might not be able to cope without you?" the words were said innocently enough, but she recognised the tone from the occasions they had previously made love prior to the end of her marriage.
"No, not at all. He's very capable," she replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed and putting on her shoes. The silence hung heavily between them, and she knew she was making heavy work over the task. Finally, she got to her feet. "Thanks for dinner…and this." She knew he didn't understand, could see his brain working overtime trying to think on how to react. She sought for something appropriate to say but came up blank and began heading for the door.
"So….?"
She paused and turned back to face him. "I'll see you when I'm back at work, I guess."
"But…hold on a minute…" he stepped towards her. "We've just made love, twice."
"I can count," she laughed.
"Christina…"
"Nothing's changed, Frank," she said lightly, desperately trying to avoid his gaze. "I meant what I said downstairs; I don't love you. I want things to go back to the way they were and if that means you giving me a hard time at the nick and…and spreading rumours about how easy I am, then go ahead. I'll live with it."
"You can't just…" She turned and opened the door, only for him to rush up behind her and slam it shut again. She heard herself gasp, remembering the night in his flat when she had gone to him for help after Stewart's rage…the first time she had given herself to him and thought there was no way back… "You can't just leave!"
"I'm sorry, but that's exactly what I'm doing." Grabbing the handle, she tried to pull the door open, only for his brute force to keep it closed. "Let me out, Frank."
"No."
"Let me out or…or I'll scream the place down until they send someone up here to find out what's going on and…I'll tell them you raped me. I'll have the DNA evidence to prove it too." Tears flooded her eyes as she inwardly berated herself for the words that had just left her mouth, hating herself for the lie and yet all the time knowing it was the only way. If he despised her, then he would stop loving her and wouldn't keep insisting on them being together. He wouldn't give up his career, wouldn't lose everything…
"You…bitch…"
She heard his voice tremble over the word before the pressure on the door suddenly lifted and she was able to open it. "Goodbye Frank." Without waiting to hear what, if any response, he would give, she rushed out into the corridor and along towards the lifts, choosing the stairs as the fastest method of escape running, and not stopping, until she was far along the seafront away from the hotel and confident that he wasn't following her.
"Oh Jesus…" she gasped, wrapping her arms around herself, her body heaving with the effort of her flight, her face wet with the tears that the wind had whipped across her cheeks. "Oh Jesus, Christina…what have you done?"