West Wing to Maternity Wing!(29)

     



 

He spun her round, hands at her waist. He looked her straight in the  eye. He moved forward, pressing himself against her. She was naked and  he was still fully clothed. But she could feel his hard length through  his jeans, pressing against her abdomen. A smile came across her lips.

He was hard. He was very hard. It didn't matter that she felt her body  was disfigured. It didn't matter that she felt she had to hide. The  proof was right in front of her-literally. She turned him on. He wanted  her.

She felt twenty-five again. She felt young and whole. The way she used  to feel when she'd danced around his cabin naked. Her fingers moved and  unfastened the buttons on his jeans, releasing him into her hands.

For the first time in five years she felt powerful. She felt sexual. It  was a glimmer of what she'd felt in that hospital room the last time  they'd kissed. Control. She felt in control.

He was staring at her, with those sexy, half-shut eyes. Even if she'd  been on the other side of the room, those eyes alone could have turned  her on. But right now his fingers were moving lower. Going from one set  of red curls to another. She moved closer. She wasn't going to flinch at  his touch now. This was what she wanted. She was ready.

She'd had her six-week postnatal check. Everything was as it should be.  There was no reason she couldn't have sex. And from the way her body was  currently responding, it was telling her it was time.

He reached his hands up to either side of her head. His eyes fixed on  hers. 'Are you sure?' he whispered. 'We only do this if you want  to-you're in charge.' There was a glimmer in his eye. He knew exactly  what he was doing. He was giving her all the control-and it was sexy as  hell.

She tilted her head to one side, her eyes glancing down at the prize  possession in her hands. 'I want to see what I'm getting.' She whipped  his T-shirt up and pulled it over his head, revealing his muscular  torso. Her hands pressed against him. 'Not too shabby,' she whispered  with a glint in her eye.

She pushed him backwards onto the bed, climbing above him. 'So I'm in charge?' she questioned.

His smile revealed his straight white teeth. 'Absolutely.'

'Good. Then this is what we're going to do … '



The early morning sunlight was filtering through the blind again. Amy  had been up twice in the night to feed and change Zachary, and on each  occasion he'd settled back down to sleep quickly.

It would have been nice to wake up in Lincoln's arms and feel his body  heat next to hers, but the reality of a premature baby dictated how  things would work out.

Last night had been cathartic for her. She'd finally got to the place  she needed to. She'd felt desired, wanted, sexual. She'd felt loved. But  the early morning light brought a whole new range of issues with it.  Issues where she'd barely even scratched the surface. She threw back the  white duvet and swung her legs out of the bed. Her feet padded across  the dark wooden floor and she stopped in the doorway of Lincoln's room.

His long, lean naked body was entwined around his duvet cover. It looked  like one of those ultra-trendy pictures you could buy in black and  white and put on your wall. His chest was rising and falling and there  was a dark shadow around his chin where the stubble was starting to  appear. He was picture-perfect.

She moved in front of the free-standing mirror where he'd undressed her  last night. She released the belt on the fluffy white dressing gown and  let it fall open. She stared at her reflection. One round full breast  and one flat white scar. Her finger traced along the line of the scar.  Even now, after everything that had happened, it still made a little  shiver go down her spine. Last night Lincoln had shown her acceptance.  Acceptance for who she was now. She kept staring, her breathing and  heart rate quickening. She didn't like the image in the mirror. She  didn't like the person staring back at her. Lincoln may have shown her  acceptance but in the cold light of day she couldn't accept herself. She  couldn't accept the reflection in the mirror.

Last night may have been wonderful, but it was only the start of the journey for her.

She could hear his breathing behind her. It could be so easy if she  could just push all this aside and forget about it. It would be so easy  to climb into bed next to him and snuggle into his arms. But this was  never going to go away.

What was wrong? Why did her life feel like sand running through her  fingers on the beach? How could she explain that to him? How could she  tell him that no matter how good he was to her and Zachary, right now  she needed to be on her own. How could she tell him she had to leave?         

     



 

This was killing her. She'd thought that the cancer might kill her and  she'd beaten that. But this was causing her more pain than the cancer  ever had. More pain than the surgery and more pain than the chemotherapy  and radiotherapy put together. And the worst thing about this was that  she was the only person who could feel it. She wanted to feel free, she  wanted to feel easy with herself. More than anything she wanted to have a  happy family life. And she knew without a shadow of a doubt that  Lincoln loved Zachary as if he were his own.

That's what made this so hard.

She had to step away. She didn't want to hurt him, but if she stayed  without facing her demons she couldn't predict their future.

She wanted to be with Lincoln because she loved him. Not because he was  the easy way for her to deal with her past illness. It wasn't true to  herself and it wasn't fair to him. If she tried to deal with how she  felt while staying with Lincoln, it could cloud her judgement and  influence her decisions. She needed to step away. And she needed to do  it before he became even more attached to Zach.

What if he met someone else? Someone who could give him a family of his  own? The thought made her stomach churn. It was a risk she had to take.

She wanted to love Lincoln with her whole heart, not just the little piece she hadn't locked away.

His eyelids flickered open and a lazy smile appeared across his face. He  lifted the corner of the twisted duvet. 'Wanna come in?'

She shook her head, but walked over towards him and sat on the edge of the bed. 'Morning.' Her voice was cool.

He rested his head on his hand. 'What's up? Something wrong with Zachary?'

'No, he's fine.' She smoothed her hand along the bed, focusing on the  crumpled sheet rather than his face. 'He's sleeping again.'

'So why don't you come back to bed?' There was a twinkle in his eye  again and it pulled at her heartstrings. She didn't want to hurt him.  He'd helped her in more ways than he could ever imagine.

She took a deep breath and stood up, turning to face him. She had to be  calm, she had to be in control. 'I have to leave, Lincoln.'

The words came like a bolt out of the blue, causing him to sit upright  and swing his legs out of the bed. So much for a lazy morning. 'What on  earth are you talking about?'

'I can't stay here any more. You've been so kind, but I need some time-some space.'

Deep lines of utter confusion furrowed Lincoln's brow. 'We go from last night-to this? Did I do something wrong?'

She shook her head and touched his arm. 'No, Linc. You didn't. You did  something wonderful. But that's what's wrong. I've spent five years  avoiding this. I've spent five years not dealing with this. And I can't  move on. I can't move on to the next stage of my life without dealing  with this first.'

'So why can't we deal with it together?'

She sighed. 'Because there can't be an "us". There can't be a  "together". I've got to take some time to learn to accept who I am and  what I've been through. And I've got to do it on my own. I've got to do  this on my own terms.'

'Why on earth do you think you've got to do this yourself? I told you last night that I was happy to take you the way you are.'

She sat down next to him. 'I know you did, Lincoln.' She looked down at  the space where her breast should be. 'You're happy to take me the way I  am … ' she looked at him with tear-glazed eyes ' … but I'm not. This isn't  about you. It's about me.'

'Don't give me the "it's not you, it's me" speech. You owe me better than that.'

She bit her lip. 'I know I do, Linc. And I'm sorry. Ultimately, I truly  want us to be together. I want us to be family. But I've got to be  selfish about this because right now I know I'm not ready and I've got  to look after me first.'

'And you think this is the way? You think this is the answer? To go  away? Hell, Amy, you're just out of hospital with a premature baby-do  you really think this is the time to find yourself?' He was pacing  around the room now in his white jersey shorts, agitated. She had to  pull her eyes away.

But he hadn't finished. 'I've spent six weeks-six weeks-helping look  after your son. And now you're just going to take him away from me?' His  pacing grew more frenetic. 'I'm the one who's spent the most time with  him, and I know I don't have any rights to him, I know Zachary isn't  mine. But he feels like mine. He feels like my son. I can't just let you  walk away. Zach knows me, he recognises me-how can this be good for  him?'