Pitch Imperfect(82)

Reluctantly, Rob tried to gently extricate his hand from Anjuli’s. She pressed it more firmly against her skin and he let out a soft groan. Cold shower, now. Anjuli mumbled something in her sleep and didn’t let go, and despite his burning erection, Rob grinned. She always had been a possessive sleeper, needing contact and pouting if he didn’t wrap her body with his. Fine with him, except back then he’d fit himself between her thighs, turned her onto her back and exacted his price. What would she do if he kissed her awake, lifted that tight T-shirt off her breasts and thrust his—

I said shower!

He wasn’t going to take advantage of her sleepiness, not going to push for sex regardless of how much he wanted to show her his love. He wanted the morning after, yes, but he wanted all her mornings after, and he’d have to be patient, give her the time she needed to realise this was their second chance.

Hot water sprayed off Rob’s shoulders and ran down his back while he soaped himself, lathered his balls and dick. So much for noble abstinence. He was tight, a lad of thirteen, jerking off in the shower. His release was almost immediate, and shaved the edge from his need but left him no more satisfied than he’d been when he’d got out of bed. But at least he’d be able to wear his kilt without a tent pole.

And he’d be able to think of Anjuli’s confession and her pain. Her behaviour in London now made sense, in a passionate, illogical and Anjuli kind of way, but then, didn’t he know how grief could skewer even the most measured of men? He knew how hard it was to live with guilt, but with him at her side, Anjuli would learn to be happy again. He would make sure of it, as he’d promised. Rob scrubbed his body, wishing he could scrub away the years they had lost. But maybe they’d been necessary. Maybe they could make their relationship work again because they were both different people.

Knowing that Anjuli had been lonely all those years he’d been bitter about her departure filled him with sadness, but he was honest enough to admit he was pleased she’d never fallen in love. Though he didn’t relish the thought of her having sex with Brendan, it was nothing compared to how bleak he’d feel if another man had made her happy the way he used to.

Used to.

What about now? He hadn’t slept most of the night, making sure he was awake when Anjuli needed him, remaining strong for her because he’d be damned if he let her down, but would she still want him, need him when she woke up? Or would she remain true to form, regret their intimate night together and try to push him away? She’d shared her grief about Chloe, but that didn’t mean she’d want to share her life with him. Rob’s chest clenched at the thought of the baby she had lost, and he allowed the sadness he’d stemmed to course through him. What a bonnie lass Chloe must have been, and how he would have liked to have known her. Been a father to her. A niggling dread refused to dislodge itself from his mind, and Rob swore at himself and turned the shower notch higher, steaming up the bathroom. Anjuli was grieving for her baby but one day...one day she would want another child, and what then?

He’d decided never to reveal to Anjuli what had happened to him, but now he could no longer hide it. She deserved to know and he would tell her as soon as she woke up. “Idiot,” he murmured. He would wait until after breakfast, allow her the space she’d need to recover from last night, then talk to her. Give it to her straight and hard.

Aye, and then give her something else straight and hard.

Jesus, he really was a hormonal teenager. Making love to Anjuli would have to wait. He’d promised Mac he’d take the boys on a hike into Halton Forest, but before that he would tell his little sister he wasn’t going to stop loving Anjuli because she wanted him to. If Mac, knowing how much he loved his nephews, could hold them over his head and deprive him of their company, then she deserved it if they came to hate her for it. Hopefully, she wouldn’t react badly, but he no longer cared if she did. He had a new life to start, with Anjuli, as soon as he finished his shower.

* * *

Eyes shut, Anjuli listened to the sound of Rob washing in her en suite. Her eyes felt puffy, swollen from the force of her grief. She didn’t need to open them to know what time it was. Radio Borders blared in her ear, set to come on automatically at 8:00 a.m. She stuck a hand out and felt the deep depression in the bed next to her.

“Oh God,” she groaned, the previous night coming back in a rush.

Public humiliation followed by private confessions. Anjuli waited for the inevitable stab of guilt.

Nothing.

For regret at sharing her burden with Rob.

Nothing.

For shame at her crazy-woman behaviour?