Keeping Secrets Crane

by Cindy Crane

  When Frankie eventually left town, he gave up drinking too, realising it would have been all too easy to have drowned his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle. But he didn’t want to go down the same road as his father—if he was his father.

  The drunk, on more than one occasion, had taunted him with the knowledge that he could just be the result of some careless trick his mother had turned with a punter while off her head on crack. And after his mother died, he’d shown even less interest in him. But, despite his lack of concern, he was the only father Jake had ever known, and Jake knew he couldn’t leave him. So thank goodness he got the support of an understanding social worker who helped him through it, got him counselling, and eventually gave him the strength to avoid following in either parent’s footsteps.

  That was why it was so ironic that Richardson had almost had him charged with something he found totally abhorrent. He shuddered. The man was a first-rate bastard—cold, calculating, uncompromising. He didn’t give a shit that Jake loved the bones off his daughter, that he’d die rather than let anything happen to her.

  Of course there’s always that option too , the man had sneered when he’d said that very thing that day in the interview room.

  And Jake recalled how his blood ran cold, remembering the incident down by the canal: Richardson and Turner struggling with the plastic wrapped package that had looked extremely corpse-like in shape. And how they’d laughed as it hit the water, sinking to the bottom, dragged down by the weights attached to it.

  “And another piece of shit hits the dust,” Turner had sniggered, obviously pleased with his night’s work.

  “Mud,” his superior had corrected, his wicked laugh matching the sergeant’s. “Well, that’s one down, two more to go.”

  Two more what—bodies?

  But when Jake reported it, anonymously of course, he’d scoured the papers for news. But there’d been nothing. Whatever they’d done, they’d gotten away with it.

  Nevertheless, it didn’t stop him trying to blackmail Richardson with it—try being the operative word. The man hadn’t even flinched, just laughed in his face, and joked with Turner about it. Not a hint of fear surfaced in either pair of cold eyes.

  And that was when Jake knew the man meant business, knew he’d lost—not just his battle with the man, but Frankie too.

  She’d been the best bit of his life that summer—a summer of new awakenings, a summer of love and passion, a summer when Jake learned there was one person in the world whose life was more important than his own. And because he loved her so much, he was going to lose her. Because he had to give her up, not just for his sake but for hers too, sacrificing everything for her.

  But it ended here. Every nerve ending was already tightened in eager anticipation of holding her close. And he no longer wanted to spend the rest of his life without her. He wanted to run his fingers through her soft, chestnut hair, and trace the threads of sunset gold spinning through it. He wanted to gaze into her eyes—those clear, sparkling pools of green. He wanted to kiss her soft, sensuous mouth and feel the heat of her desire burning into him. He wanted to feel her lovely body tremble beneath his, feeding, not just his physical needs, but his emotional ones too.

  He’d never stopped loving her.

  He wasn’t going to lose her again.

  Chapter 18

  Jake folded Frankie into his arms the moment she stepped from the car. Their bodies crushed together. Every spot he touched melted against hers, and tingles of excitement swirled through the pathways of nerve endings criss-crossing his body.

  He feasted his eyes on her full, glossy lips as her tongue played nervously underneath her top lip, inviting him to ravage her mouth. Her neck, smooth and creamy, was crying out to be covered in kisses; and her body quivered in eager anticipation. They complemented each other perfectly. He’d been born loving her. It was the reason for his existence.

  Even his brief flirtation with marriage had been overshadowed by his love for this woman. No wonder Rachel had found someone else. God knows he’d tried to love her, but there’d always been something missing; a huge gap in his life that only Frankie could fill. No wonder he made such a mess of relationships.

  He wasn’t going to mess this up.

  Not again.

  “You look tired,” he said, concerned.

  “It’s been a long drive,” she murmured.

  She wasn’t ready to discuss her father’s accusations yet. And she wanted to give him the opportunity to tell her everything without prompts, without her asking. If this was going to work, there could be no secrets. And just feeling his arms around her was enough to stir her tired body back to life. Any doubts that might have gnawed at her on her journey were suddenly dispersing like puffs of smoke in a strong breeze. Whatever her father knew, or thought he knew, was wrong. Jake was innocent. And when the time was right, she knew he’d tell her everything.

  Jake took her hand in his, curling his fingers protectively around it, gently squeezing as he led her into the building, kissing her long and passionately as the doors of the lift closed on them. Neither surfaced for air until they opened again and he could lead her into his sparsely furnished flat. His hand still held hers tightly. He was so happy she was here and he was determined she wasn’t going to get away again. Holding her weekend bag in his other hand, it was all the confirmation he needed that she was here to stay—if only for a few days.

  Jake usually ate on the run, but tonight he’d set the table—no expense spared.

  A candle flickered in the centre of the table.

  A rose bloomed in a tiny vase that he’d bought at the local pawn shop earlier that afternoon.

  A tablecloth covered the table’s scratched, wooden surface—he’d never owned a tablecloth in his life.

  And the smell of bolognese sauce, simmering on the stove, drifted into their nostrils as he opened the door to his flat.

  It was all a little different from last time she was here, when all he’d found were a couple of cartons of juice in his fridge and they’d ended up scooping rice and noodles from take-away trays.

  He didn’t want to let her go. Clutching her tightly to him as they stepped inside his flat, he could feel the strong thud of her heart against his chest, competing powerfully with his own heart’s erratic beat.

  Her body felt so good against his, and the tell-tale coiling, deep in the pit of his stomach, tightened further. His breath shortened as fresh waves of desire spread outwards from his chest. It stimulated every nerve ending from the top of his scalp to the tips of his toes; tingling, warming; wanting and needing her. This was more than just sex, more than just lust. It was love—pure, unadulterated love.

  He trailed his hands down her back, blatantly brushing her delectable flesh through the thin fabric of her top as she purred in delight at every sensuous stroke. Her lips reached for his once again, her hand catching the back of his neck and pulling his face to hers. Her hot little tongue curled into his mouth; exploring and indulging every sense, every nerve; the low moan in the back of her throat begging for immediate gratification. Every muscle was taut, rapidly heading out of control.

  Winding his fingers through her hair, he tugged gently at the roots, every basic, primeval instinct surfacing and enveloping him. He needed to make this woman totally his, not just for now, but forever. Eyes smouldering with passion, he held her face between his hands, needing to tell her exactly how he felt.

  “You do know I love you,” he murmured throatily, pressing his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, and her eyes.

  Frankie absorbed every touch, every word to the very centre of her being as her heart swelled with the emotion. It totally engulfed her—so completely, she thought her heart would burst.

  “Yes,” she whispered back, barely trusting her own raspy voice. Her breath was now short, coming in fleeting gasps as she too confessed, “I’ve always loved you, Jay.”

  He groaned in pleasure as his mouth sought her neck, covering it with kisses—nibbling, te
asing; seeking out every sensitive spot; indulging every sense he possessed with each tiny whimper she made. Sharp shocks of electricity coursed through his body, travelling in unison to the swelling, straining at his zipper. His heart pounded, screaming out in expectation. He’d never really doubted she’d loved him, but just to hear her say it was like music to his ears. On which she was certainly working her own little bit of magic—her teeth nibbling at the lobe; her tongue flicking inside the orifice, following the shape, and tormenting and tantalizing every erogenous spot lurking inside. She remembered exactly how it made his body tremble and beg for her touch.

  Frankie rubbed her swollen sex against the hard ridge pressing against the fly of his jeans. There was something about Jake that made her feel so deliciously brazen, now as well as then. And all she wanted was to feel him inside her, their bodies moving together, squirming, thrusting, and rotating in sheer lust and passion.

  Their journey to the bedroom became one of urgency—her fingers at his buckle, nimble, hurried; releasing his swollen shaft; sliding her hand along its silken cover. She was desperate for him to fill her, to ease the heavy ache gnawing at her centre.

  A low groan rumbled up through Jake’s body, catching in his throat—with nowhere to escape as he pushed her onto the bed. Their mouths locked. He slid her skirt up over her bare thighs, running his rough hands over her silky flesh and softly rounded hips. And as he caught the elastic of her panties in his fingers, he almost tore them from her body. Then, stroking a pathway up the insides of her thighs, he reached her most sensitive spot. She gave a little cry of delight.

  His hand moved to her breasts, his fingers caressing a hard, pink nipple beneath her delicate top, teasing it into a proud point; then kneaded the lush mound that was surrounding it, gently against his palm. She was at breaking point, urging him to enter her, parting her legs to accommodate him as he slid the full length of his manhood into the warm, wet crevice. And as they bucked and ground against each other, their breath became short and ragged, giving way to every primitive instinct they possessed, until finally, all muscles spasmed, crying out in unison, as a wonderful wave of release roared through them. It left them panting and gasping for air; cheek against cheek; a light sheen of perspiration covering them both.

  They lay motionless, temporarily satiated, as they enjoyed the closeness, locked in blessed union. And as their eyes locked, they both grinned.

  “I take it you’re pleased to see me,” she teased, eyes twinkling.

  He groaned, sliding his hands round to her bottom, squeezing her closer to him, wanting her to receive every single drop of himself he had to give. His eyes pinched together in excruciating pleasure as his forehead brushed hers.

  “You know there’s only you can do this for me,” he almost groaned. His voice was husky, thick with emotion.

  She snaked one arm around his neck, hugging him close, while the other found his head, her fingertips stroking every bump, caressing every hair root. Shivers of delight coursed through his body.

  “You know we were made for each other,” she smiled. “We’re so perfect together.” Then she paused for a moment before adding, “What happened to us?” But she quickly caught his bottom lip between her teeth and gently bit on it before he had time to answer. She didn’t want to probe. Not yet. She’d promised herself she would give him time.

  It was a touch so gentle, so intimate; he plundered her mouth once again, kissing her for a long time and wishing he’d had the guts to confront the accusations made against him all those years ago.

  Their lips only parted as he slipped from her, taking the warm trickle of semen with him. His heart gave a lurch.

  “Oh God,” he groaned. “I’m sorry.”

  Their need had been so urgent, so spontaneous, he’d never put on a condom.

  She rested her hand on his cheek and gave a reassuring smile.

  “Don’t be,” she whispered. “I’m not.”

  A thrill of expectation and excitement rushed up her spine, spreading tingly fingers across her scalp in little prickles of blissful torment. Only once before had they had sex without protection. And she remembered how the woman, in the girl she had once been, had prayed, and prayed, that she would be pregnant with his baby.

  Back then, she’d so wanted Jake’s baby—his babies—while spending the rest of their lives together. It overwhelmed her to feel the same emotion flooding through her once more.

  “I promise I’ll be more careful next time,” he whispered back.

  Chapter 19

  “Mmm! This is delicious,” Frankie praised as she shovelled spaghetti into her mouth. She’d only stopped for coffee on her journey. And after their energetic reunion, she was absolutely starving. Although it was sheer luck that the sauce hadn’t totally dried out by the time they surfaced from the bedroom. “It’s Deb’s favourite too. She’d love this. She’d have me cook it every day given half a chance. As it is I keep it down to once a week.”

  It felt so natural sitting there, sharing a meal together. One minute they’d been shagging each other senseless, the next discussing everyday things. There was nothing pretentious about their relationship. With Jake she felt totally at ease, totally herself.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologised.

  She looked up in surprise.

  “What about?”

  “If I’d known, I’d have cooked something else.”

  “Don’t be silly. I love it too. Anyway,” she added with a saucy grin, “it’s always been my ambition to do a Lady and the Tramp with a string of spaghetti.” Then she giggled, as a rogue strand slapped the tip of her nose while she attempted a slow, seductive suck; trying to allow the pasta to slither lazily into her mouth. “Hmm!” she continued. “Not sexy at all.”

  Jake didn’t agree. Anything Frankie put in her mouth could be deemed sexy, the way her lips folded around it so prettily. But he laughed with her too and reached across the table, wiping the offending spot of sauce from her nose with his thumb. As he offered it back for her to lick, which her tongue did with accomplished provocative charm, even his thumbprint tingled.

  He left it there for a moment before tracing the contours of her delightful lips. Then he reached spontaneously across the table to kiss them sensuously and slowly.

  “See, we don’t need a piece of spaghetti to draw our lips together,” he murmured huskily.

  She gave a cute little so-you-think-that’s-funny groan.

  “As cheesy as ever,” she replied with a wry twist to her mouth. Then changing the subject, she asked, “Have you decided what you’re saying at Pete’s thingy?”

  “Sort of,” he shrugged, a little unsure. “You?”

  She pulled another face. “Yeah. Sort of, too. Though I must confess I’m a bit nervous. I’m not sure how to approach it. I know I did okay—eventually. But there are a lot of girls out there who get pregnant and have a really tough time of it. I don’t want to make what happened to me sound glamorous. Make them think that getting pregnant is okay, that everything will work out for them too. I had to work damn hard, probably twice as hard as everyone else in the sixth form and university. But I don’t want to sound like Miss Goody-Two-Shoes either.”

  “Just tell it as it was,” he said encouragingly. “And don’t pull any punches. Tell it as you would to a friend. You could always try it out on me now.”

  He topped up her wine glass and added a little more to his own. This was his only concession to not drinking: a glass of wine with a meal, especially a celebratory meal. Like tonight, when he wanted to toast their togetherness again.

  Frankie eyed the glass.

  “What are you trying to do? Loosen my tongue?”

  He gave her a lopsided grin, remembering the delicious swirls she’d stroked around the tip of his manhood shortly before they remembered supper. The woman had ravaged him without mercy.

  “I think your tongue is already loose enough.”

  She pursed her lips together and tilted her head to one side, eyes
teasing him from beneath her long lashes. “Hmm. From what I recall, yours doesn’t do so badly either.” And another invisible string of spaghetti slithered deliciously between them. It was going to be a long night, and they were both glad they had plenty of condoms.

  But first, she told him—everything.

  She began with the argument that she’d had with her father when he insisted she have an abortion—and when her mother actually sided with her. Afterwards, he hadn’t spoken to either of them for what seemed like weeks, spending more and more time at work—if that was at all possible. So as usual, it was her mother who took control of the practical side of things, making all the right appointments: to see the doctor, to see the midwife and finally, to see her headmaster.

  Boy that was the scariest. She might have been seventeen, on the verge of adulthood, but the thought of facing her headmaster made her feel like a little girl again, although in the end there was nothing to be scared of.

  She remained in class right up to giving birth. The teachers were brilliant and very supportive. No one judged her. Well, except for a couple of older ones, but she kept her head down and worked hard. In fact, there was nothing else for her to do. Her social life went right down the pan. In fact, there was no more social life. So she focussed on her studies and assignments instead. Her grades went through the roof.

  After the birth, she had a few weeks at home.

  “Baby-bonding,” she laughed. “I couldn’t exactly breast feed on demand sitting in class. And, in between, I kept up with my studies, following the programme the teachers had set for me. Mum was brilliant. She helped me such a lot over that period.”

  Since marrying, her mother had never worked, taking her role as homemaker very seriously. So when Frankie went back to school, she was there to ease the burden.

  It wasn’t easy, though. When she came home from school every night, Frankie took over from her mother. She insisted on that. There were all the baby chores to do, as well as the night shift and her homework. Some days she coped on just a few hours sleep. But she was determined she was going to do it. One way or the other, she was going to provide for her daughter. As well as pay back her parents for all they did for her. Because funnily enough, once her father had come round to the idea of being a grandfather, life suddenly became a little easier. Especially when he saw how hard she was working. They continued to support her when she went to university as well, choosing the local one so as not to interfere with her childcare arrangements.