The resemblance is unmistakable.  This is Jake's child. The features are all Jake's except in miniature; the full mouth, the long dark eyelashes and the long straight nose. He even has the adorable sleep pout Jake does. I wonder what colour his eyes are. His hair is very very blonde though, lighter than Jakes, but children's hair often darkens as they get older. He's hugging a soft toy lion tightly to his chest as he dreams whatever children dream of.

When I look up at Jake he isn't looking at his son, he's watching me.   I drop my eyes again to the bed.   I don't know how I feel.  It feels like I've been punched full force in the chest. I feel winded and I can't breathe properly. It feels like a new kind of heartbreak and I'm not sure why.  I stare at the little boy for a few moments more before I turn and walk quietly out of the bedroom into the living room and take a seat.

I don't look up when he takes a seat across from me.   He says nothing and neither do I for a long time.  The sounds of traffic and the sound of his breathing are all that fill the large space and the silence between us stretches on and on, endless and wordless.  

When I do finally look at him he's sitting forward on the chair looking tense and anxious and biting away at the nail on his index finger.  He drops it from his mouth immediately and narrows his eyes on me - not angrily, but as though he's trying to work out whatever puzzle the expression on my face is posing.   What even is my expression?  What's it saying? How do I feel? I don't know.  Of course I don't know. I don't know anything.  I never have.

"Why would you lie to me about having a child?" I say finally.

"I've never lied to you about having a child."

I narrow my eyes on him. "But you never told me the truth about it either?"

He shakes his head.  "No.   I didn't.  I should have told you.  I wanted to tell you." He sits forward further and the leather chair creaks as he does.

"Then why didn't you?" My voice is hot and angry.  I need to try and temper it.  Hysterical is not going to help anything, I know that.  I feel hysterical though.  He has a child and he never told me.  How do you not tell someone that?  Why would he keep that a secret from me?

"I'm just not used to talking about him.  Plus I thought..." He shakes his head and runs a hand over his mouth.   "I thought he would just end up being another reason for you not to be with me." He says. 

I frown.  "What are you talking about?"

"You ran from me Alex, more than once.  You didn't want to get involved with me in the first place. If I'd told you about him, do you honestly think it would have convinced you to give me a go?"

I feel my face screw up.  "You think I wouldn't have gotten involved with you because you had a child? You think that would have made a difference to me?" 

"I just meant.. I dunno, yes maybe.  I thought it would have complicated things further.  I didn't want to make it harder for you to see me as someone you could be with."  He mutters, looking down.  I'm angry now. Angrier.

"Oh so you kept him a secret for my benefit??  How considerate of you." I snap. 

"Yes.  And because I told you, I don't talk about him.  He's already too fucking involved.  I need to keep him separate from all this.  That's what I'm trying to do.." He trails off.  

"What?  What's 'all this'? Me? You need to keep him separate from me?"

He shakes his head. "No, not you. Everything else,"  He says. Cryptic as ever. He looks tense again and drops his head again and expands no more.

When he lifts his head he looks about the room, down at his hands, in the direction of his son's bedroom, and then finally back at me with that same look on his face. It looks like he's asking me for something, pleading even, but I don't know what it is he wants. I feel oddly numb I decide.  All of my earlier emotions are now blanketed with something thick and heavy.  Maybe I'm in shock.   When I came up here with him this wasn't what I was expecting, not even in my wildest fantasies did I imagine that this is what he needed to show me.  His son.   Well, that's not totally true, somewhere deep down I worried that his secretive nature was maybe because he had a wife and family hidden away somewhere.  The realisation slams into my chest.

"Vicky," I whisper.   "She's his mother."  It's not really a question but his face confirms I'm right.  "You're with her..." I shake my head slowly. Oh god.  I'm the other woman.

"What?  No," He shakes his head, eyes wide.  He moves forward off the stylish worn brown leather chair and comes to sit on the low wooden coffee table across from me.  He grabs hold of my hands and looks me in the eye. "I'm not with her Alex.  I haven't been with her for a long time, was never really with her,"  He shakes his head again.   "There is no me and her. It's me and you. I'm with you." He states firmly. 

His words don't bring even a fraction of the relief I'd hoped for.   Earlier those were exactly the words I wanted to hear.  I wanted him to tell me that it wasn't what I thought.  That she meant nothing to him.  That I was who he wanted. Yet, he has a child with her.   That's not nothing.  That's everything.  She's the mother of his child.  I'm just a woman he's sleeping with.   I'm nothing.

I say nothing and instead look down at our hands clasped together.  He begins to stroke his thumbs over the tops of mine.  It feels comforting and soothing. 

He has a child.  

"Then why was she here last night, and today?" If they're not together then what?  They have sleepovers? 

"Because she called me.  She was a fucking mess. She's always a fucking mess.." He mutters.

"That was the call you took in my kitchen last night?  That was Vicky?"

Jake nods.  "She was out of it.  She turned up at the club with him - I mean she brought my son to my fucking nightclub on a Friday night," he shakes his head angrily and his nostrils flare.   "Paul let her in and she called me from there.  When I got there he was crying and confused and I brought him home and put him to bed –I fell asleep with him." He explains.  His tone is sad and almost apologetic and it makes me feel guilty.  I don't want him to apologise for having to look after his son.  That's not what he should apologise for and feel guilty about. He should apologise and feel guilty for not telling me he had a son that he needed to look after.  I picture him cradling his son to sleep and it does something to my chest.

"I was worried about you," is what I say. I was worried about him and me and us.  Because that's what you do when you're in love with someone.

He nods. "I know.  And I should have called you.  I left my mobile in the car last night, but I should have called you today.  I just... I didn't know what to tell you.  I didn't want to do this over the phone Alex.  Things weren't left properly last night and I didn't want to make them worse," he looks down at his hands again.  "I didn't want to lie to you."

"And how often do you lie to me?" I ask. 

He lifts his head up and looks into my eyes again. "Only when I have to." His voice is raw and regretful.   Only when he has to.  How is that any sort of answer?   Why is everything so bloody vague and cryptic and unclear?   Even now.

I bite hard on my tongue.  "Where were you this afternoon?  When I came here,"   When she was strutting around like she owned the place, like she lived here, like she was important.  I don't say this because it will only make me sound bitter and petty and I already sound like a whole host of other things I'm not comfortable with.

"I had to go pick up some stuff of his from her place.   She didn't want to go home – said she couldn't face it."  He explains.   I wonder then how often he runs around after her and it makes me feel guilty again. It's not her he's running after - it's his son.   And if he did run around after her?  She's the mother of his child.  Surely it's part of the deal?  I take a deep breath before asking the next question.

"Were you with her last night? Did you and her -"

"No, fuck no," he cuts me off, sounding angry again.  "I don't know what she said to you today but that never fucking happened." He shakes his head as he stares into my eyes.  He doesn't look away and the sincerity in them is piercing.  "Tell me you believe me? You need to fucking believe that."  He says.   I hold his eyes a long time before nodding finally.  I do believe him.   But even then, his not sleeping with her last night doesn't bring the sort of relief I was hoping for.  There's now far too much other stuff rolling about in my head for that to make much of a relief dent.

"Do you ever sleep with her? I mean do you guys have, I don't know, a thing?" I look down.  A thing?  I don't even really know what I mean.  She stays at his house sometimes, they have a son together, who's to say they don't sleep together every now and then when they need the company?   Christ I really hope he doesn't have a thing with her. 

Another firm shake of his head.  "No, there's no thing. We don't sleep together.  Ever."  His tone is adamant.   I get a little relief from that I find.  Okay so he doesn't have a thing with her, just a secret son. Jesus Christ.

I nod slowly.  "What's his name?" I ask.  I don't even know his little boys name.  Jake's little boys name.  He looks up at me again with that hopeful light in his eyes.

"Caleb." He says softly.

"He looks like you.  He's beautiful," I say and Jake smiles a little at me. He looks proud as he nods in agreement.  Now I desperately need to know more.  "So how long were you together?  It was obviously serious if you had a child together?"

He gives me a half shrug and a shake of his head.  "It was a long time ago. It was never serious, not really.  Not for me."

"It couldn't have been that long ago.  Caleb is how old? 3?" I frown.  I'm confused.  He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, looking uncomfortable again.  No doubt trying to figure out a way of not talking about this, about himself.  "I can just go now, I mean if you'd rather not share your shit with me?" I say. 

He gets my intent because his mouth twitches and he fixes me with a serious stare.  Then he runs a hand over his mouth and licks his lips.  When he speaks he looks businesslike and resolved.   In fact his whole body language changes; he sits up straighter and seems to harden before my eyes.   "I met Vicky when I was 18 when I started working for her uncle.  He liked me, he helped me and she wanted me. I was young. She was the first relationship I'd ever had." He says.  Small short economical snippets of fact which tell me just exactly what I need to know and no more I think.

"Oh so she was your first love? How sweet."  My tone is sarcastic as I feel another bit of something break off.   I can't decide if I'm now wishing he had just fucked her last night, and that she was just a one-night stand.   Instead of this.  Where she's the mother of his son and his childhood sweetheart.

"No.  It wasn't like that.  Not even close," He shakes his head again.  "I was young. It was always more serious from her side than from mine.  I felt... I don't know... obligated." He shrugs. 

Obligated? What a weird word for him to use about his first relationship? 

"It never felt right for me.  And I never loved her.  Not like.-"  He stops talking abruptly and changes direction mentally, glancing away from my eyes.  "We were together about five years on and off I think. You know how it is when you're kids.  Then it was over.  I ended it. " He says. 

I do know how it is when you're kids.  But I was in love with my first boyfriend, Liam Scott to the point of distraction.  I stopped eating for a week when he broke up with me for who everyone had called "slutty" Amanda Clarke. So he stayed with her for five years even though he didn't love her and it didn't feel right because he felt obligated.  I'm confused.  It doesn't explain anything.  Not really. 

"So you're not together and haven't been for years and you don't have a thing, but evidently something happened between the two of you recently.  Something that resulted in you having a child together?" I glance toward the room where his 3-year-old son is sleeping. 

He closes his eyes momentarily as though remembering something he'd rather not.  "A drunken mistake happened," He says.   "I knew she still had feelings for me, I knew and I let it happen anyway.  I should never have let it happen."

I try to imagine him making a drunken mistake but I can't.  He's always so in control. 

"Didn't it just feel like old times? Make-up sex maybe?"

His eyes flare.  "Don't do that Alex.  No.   It wasn't like that.  I was wasted and in a really dark fucking place.  She was just there." He shrugs morosely.  

Oh I really hate her then, for being there for him. 

"Well it looks like she still wants to be there. That much was obvious this afternoon." I say. 

"Well it's never going to fucking happen and she knows it." He flares. 

So he's not denying it then. He knows she still has feelings for him.  He's the father of her child though so why wouldn't she?  They have a common bond.   It explains why I'm such a threat, because to her I'm a home wrecker.  For her I've ruined her perfect vision of him and her and their son being together.  Maybe I have. 

"Do you ever think that you should at least try and give it a go with her?  As a family?  For him?" I ask. Why on earth did I just say that out loud.  Why am I putting ideas in his head? Am I really I'm trying to convince the man I love to go have a go at being a family with a woman I hated upon sight, a woman who isn't even close to being good enough for him.  I've lost the bloody plot.  As an image of them together as a family plays over in my mind I start to feel nauseous and cold.

With his hands on mine again he pulls me forward so that I can't do anything but meet his green/blue eyes that seem to penetrate right through me, making me feel like I might be transparent.  Can he see right through me?   I look down and my blood kindles at the proximity and closeness of his mouth.  I wonder if he kissed me now what it would feel like.  Will he still taste the same?  He still smells the same.

"No. It's never once crossed my mind Alex.   She's not the life I want, she never was.  Cale is the only thing there is between us and it's all there'll ever be." His voice is low and serious. "You're what I want." He adds softer, his voice low and rough.  It sends a wave of heat and love and need washing over me.  I need to focus. There's still too much that needs to be explained. 

"She knew about me," I say to change the subject, to one that makes me feel colder.   "Today.  She knew who I was.  She knew about us."  I move back in the seat but he keeps a tight hold of my hands.

"I know, but I didn't tell her.  She speaks to Kev now and again.  He must have mentioned you." I can't tell how he feels about that but his eyes darken.

"So doctor bitch is his name for me then?"

"If it is I'll kill him." He says.  He doesn't sound like he's joking.

"Where is she now? How often does she stay here with you?" I ask, ignoring the dark tone in his voice.  I don't even know why I'm still asking about her.  I want to forget she exists.  But now I cant, because he has a child with her. 

"She doesn't.  Ever." His eyes are hard.  "Last night was a one-off.  I have no idea where she is.  Probably back with the cunt she walked out on last night," He shakes his head and sighs frustratedly.  "I hate him living there with her and that fucking wanker."

"Then why doesn't he live with you?" I ask   Surely Jake, the businessman father is a better proposition than the psychotic mother with the 'wanker' boyfriend?  I'm basing this psychotic diagnosis on the five-minute meeting I had with her this afternoon.  I don't know her.  She may be the best mother in world for all I know.  Perhaps its only Jake she becomes psychotic about?  Even I can partially relate to that.  He also turns me into a crazy person.

"I wish he could.  I wish it was... my life isn't the most..." he searches for the word.  "..settled.   It's the plan though.  When I've sorted things.   I want him with me. He belongs with me." He drags his hand through his hair and I see pain echo across his face.  It makes me hurt for him.  Im already hurt myself but I don't want him to hurt either.   I feel so heavy.  My heart and my head and my body.  Filled with things I don't even know that I have room for.  He stares at me for the longest time, willing me to say something but what I don't know.  That it's okay that he kept his son a secret? That I understand?  I can't say those things because it's not okay and I don't understand.   How could he not tell me this?  None of his reasons so far come close to helping me understand. 

"Alex I'm sorry," he says breaking the leaden silence.    "I should have told you. Right at the start.  I mean telling you about the one good thing in my fucking life should have been easy for me.  I was going to, at dinner, but then I gave you the shitty childhood detail and it got so dark and I thought you were going to leave at that point and that I'd ruined it already. I didn't want to freak you out even more.   Then here, I could have just showed you his room, easy done.  Then when you were talking about bringing children up in the states I thought that was my chance but I chickened out. I had so many fucking chances to tell you and I didn't.  I fucked up," his voice is filled with regret.   "I never wanted you to find out like this.  I wanted to tell you myself."

He's sorry.  He did have so many chances to tell me.  But he didn't.  Because he thought I wouldn't want him?  Or because he doesn't trust me.  I don't understand.  I told him everything about myself because I wanted him to know who I was.  Does that mean then that he told me nothing about himself because he doesn't want me to know who he is?  Is this why he thought he was bad for me?  Because he's a father? That doesn't make any sense either.

"What happened last night?" I ask him.

He looks confused. "What do you mean?  I told you she called me,"

"No," I shake my head.  "Before that. It started in the car.  Something happened after we left Robs.  Then you asked me why I was with you, you said you didn't belong with me.  You wanted me to end things.   Was it about this?  About Vicky?  And Caleb?" I ask.   I stare at him and I can actually see his mind begin to whirl and tick.  He looks away from me.

"Partly.   My life is a fucking mess Alex.. I was always trying to tell you, warn you I guess.  I know I chased you. I wanted you.. You've no fucking idea," a shake of his head.   "But meeting your friends.. Seeing you in your own life, I don't know.  I felt like I'd tricked you. I didn't fit there, with you, I wanted you to see that for yourself though. I always thought you would eventually. You had no idea what you were getting into with me..." He shakes his head looking guilty again as he rubs the back of his neck.

"And how could I know what I was getting myself into when you've lied to me and kept things from me since the day I met you?"

"I did it to protect you," he says very quietly. 

I frown. "From what?  From things you assume I cant handle Jake?  Things that will 'make me run a mile'?  You say I'm what you want, and by that I assume you mean you want to have a relationship with me, but how is that possible when I've not the first clue who you are?  What sort of relationship is that?"

"I was going to tell you.." He says.

"Oh really?  When?  Let's not kid ourselves here. I only know about Caleb now because I backed you against a wall and because it was preferable to me thinking you'd gone off and fucked someone else?"

"I would have told you. I was going to tell you." He says again.

I sit back. "When?"

He bites his lip.  He searches my face. He pleads with his eyes.  Finally he shakes his head and looks down.  "I don't know."

At least he doesn't lie. 

I drop my eyes from his face and look down at where our hands are joined, marvelling at how steady and smooth and strong they feel in mine.  Like our mouths, our hands fit together so well.  Our bodies have always fit together so well.  But perhaps that's the only parts of us that fit. It feels like more than that though - it always has.  Maybe it's why his secrets and mystery always seemed surmountable to me.  Because to me it always just felt right when I was with him.   Nothing else mattered very much. 

I feel exhausted and drained.  I still feel a little drunk and my head is swimming and the heat from our hands is distracting me, as is the  proximity of his mouth that's now only inches from mine.  My body wants him closer but my mind is telling me to leave and put some distance between us.   He lied to me.  He kept things from me.  I don't know what's worse or if they're both just different versions of the same thing.  My head hurts.   Finally my voice finds its way out of my body. 

"What else is there?" my voice is quiet but surprisingly stable.  He looks up again and an odd look comes over his face.  His mouth is tense, as though he's trying to stop something breaking out from the inside.  He holds my eyes and I feel him grip my hands a little harder but still he says nothing.  Still he hides. When it's clear he isn't going to speak I nod and drop my eyes to our hands again.   "So I really don't have the first idea who you are?" I say. 

"You know who I am when I'm with you." He says.  

I smile sadly as the tears well up hot and threatening behind my eyes.   No, with me he's who he wants to be.  He's very different with me.  That's what he said.  That doesn't mean anything at all. It means nothing.  It's only some romantic notion that sounds good and for a while excused his mysterious hidden side, it's not an explanation for anything. 

"That's not an answer," I slip my hands out of his grip.  "I think I should go."

He moves forward quickly.  "Alex, please don't."

I shake my head, unable to meet his eyes.   "I need to.  I need to go.  I need to think." I say.  I sound clumsy.   As I go to stand he grabs hold of my hands again, pulling me back down.   When I finally do look at him it only confirms to me that I definitely need to go.   I'm tired, drunk, and confused and he is still so tempting to every single part of me.  He's still so fiercely beautiful.  Nothing has changed in that regard - I still want him with a ferocious amount of need.  The sheer intensity of it scares me half to death. 
But everything else feels like it's changed.

With his hands still holding mine I try standing again. I look down but don't pull my hands out of his - he releases them before I need to do that.

"Could you call me a taxi please?  I need to use the bathroom." I say quietly. I leave him sitting on the couch as I go into the bathroom and close the door quietly behind me. 

I sit down on the toilet lid feeling leaden and heavy from too much knowledge yet at the same time not enough.  Twenty-four hours ago I was in love with him with some manageable reservations.  Six hours ago I was standing face to face with the woman I thought he'd cheated on me with.  Half an hour ago I find out she's actually a woman he has a child with.  A child he never wanted to tell me about.  Because he didn't want to complicate things, or freak me out or involve his son more than he is already.  I'm so confused.   He seriously thought I wouldn't be able to handle him having a child?  The fact that he has a child doesn't matter.  If he'd told me the night we went to dinner that he had a little boy I'd still have wanted him.

Somewhere in the back of my mind the thought occurs to me that maybe I'm overreacting. Did he have the right to keep this to himself until he was ready to tell me?   Maybe. But with Jake it's a pattern. It's always been about him keeping things from me, things of a sizeable nature - important things that matter.   There's more he isn't telling me too. Im certain of it. It scares me because I don't know how much more I can handle. Tonight anyway. 

I need some time away from him to straighten my thoughts out into neat workable piles.

I stand up and flush the toilet, and then go to the sink and run my hands under the cold water, tilting down to drink some before patting my cheeks and forehead with cold wet hands.   I suppose I could look a lot worse after the day I've had.  My floral belted dress isn't too creased, though my hair has lost some of its volume and I definitely look paler than normal – which is pretty pale.  I pinch my cheeks and smudge some of my eye shadow away from my lids before licking my lips. 

I wonder why I'm bothering.  Actually that isn't true, I know why I'm bothering. I want him to still want me like I want him.   When I walk out of here in the next ten minutes I want him to feel as though he might have lost something. 

When I come out of the bathroom I stop dead in my tracks.  My traitorous body roars at the sight of him standing in front of one the ceiling height windows. His t-shirt is tight around his upper body so that the outline of his back and shoulder muscles are visible and the undeniable strength in his arms is defined and pronounced.   I want them wrapped around me. 

He's resting his head on the glass as he looks out at the enviable view of Tower Bridge from the east side of his living room.  He doesn't seem to be looking at it though - he looks miles away.   If I asked him where he was in his mind though he probably wouldn't tell me.

"You called the taxi?" I ask quietly.  

He turns around and stares wordlessly for a few moments before he nods once.  He has a beer bottle in his hand and as he lifts it to his mouth his T-shirt rises and I see a flash of skin on his stomach.   Some light breaks through this thing.  

"The tattoo, the CW. It's Caleb." I say with a nod.  His son's initials.  The Roman numerals are the date of his birth presumably.  

He runs his hand across the front of his stomach and across the letters of his son's name. "Yeah.  Ward's Vicky's name though." He says in a far off tone.   I take a few steps into the room toward him.

"I always thought that tattoo was for a girl.  One who really meant something to you.  I always felt a little jealous." I smile, feeling as pathetic as I always knew I would if I ever told him that.

He walks toward me, depositing the beer on top of one of the shelves on his way past.  As he walks I look down to his feet and my stomach somersaults at his hairless tanned skin. Seeing him barefoot always does something to me that I can't explain.

He stops in front of me and I feel the heat from his body invade mine and his scent that makes my blood warm and fast settle around me like a hot fog.  He brings his hand up and tilts my face up to meet his eyes.

"If I told you that no woman ever meant anything to me before you, would you believe me? Or would you think it was a line like you always do?" his eyes are dark.

I take my time before speaking.  "I'd want to believe you." I whisper dropping my eyes to stare at his mouth.   God I want it on me.  I need it on me.  Like I need to breathe.  In fact no, I don't need to breathe as badly as I need his mouth on me.  

He sighs and closes his eyes, tilting his forehead down to rest it on top of mine. His mouth is so close.  Just a slight upwards tilt of my head and I could kiss him.  I need to go. 

"I know I've made it harder for you to believe me now Alex.. But I've never lied about how I feel when it comes to you. About how I feel about you.  How you make me feel." He says in a raw whisper.   I feel the sting of tears rise up behind my eyes. There's also a hard lump choking up my throat and I swallow to try and force it back down.  I don't want him to see me cry. I know he's hurting too, it's clear to me that he is sorry. I don't want to add to it or for him to know how much he's hurt me. No, I can't let him see me cry. 

I bring my hands up to push him away but I cant follow through with it and so I just rest them flat on his chest, which is warm and hard and comforting.  I think maybe I'm scared that if I push him away it will be the last time I ever get to touch him.

"Please don't go.  Stay the night with me." He whispers.  "You could meet him in the morning.  I'd really like for him to meet you." He moves his forehead from side to side in a rocking motion while he breathes deeply, his eyes closed. Stay.   Stay with him and wake up with him and tomorrow meet his little boy.  His little boy that I didn't know existed until half an hour ago.   It doesn't sound that bizarre anymore. My mind seems to have normalised it now.    Stay. My body is willing me to say yes and to give in to him but that's always what my body has done where he's concerned.  It's selfish and desperate and needs the pleasure only he can give it.  The dull throbbing coming from low in my belly and between my thighs confirms this.

"How would you introduce me to him?" I ask.

"What?"

"Who am I to you?"

He pulls back to stare into my eyes as he ponders my question.  "I'd tell him your name, and how you fixed me once when I was hurt.  I'd tell him how special you are and that his dad cares about you very much," he says.   As I picture his little boy's face peering shyly up at me from behind Jake's leg I feel myself smile a little. 

Jake takes a deep breath and pulls me closer again so that I'm flat against his chest.  Oh the heat and comfort of being held by him is immense.  Today when I left here, I thought I'd never get to have this again.   I should feel lucky I suppose.

My eyes close over in bliss and he kisses the top of my head as he takes a deep breath of me.   His mouth moves to the side of my head, on my temple, where he kisses me again.  He moves his mouth lower, kissing softly down my cheek until he reaches my mouth.  Then his hands come up and he holds the sides of my head as he moves his mouth onto mine. I moan.   Yes he still tastes the same.   As his warm, welcome taste explodes on my tongue I melt against him.  As he pushes his tongue deeper into my mouth he drops his hands and pulls me tighter, pushing his hips against me.  I feel him harden at the flat of my stomach and my thighs clench and tingle in need. I press them tight together, desperately trying to ignore the throbbing that's coming from between them. 

"Alex.. Please...," he whispers.   "I need you. You have no fucking idea how much I need you, how much I need this. Us. Something good."  He whispers between soft sensual kisses that turn me inside out.  I move my hands down his body and rest them on his hips. I want so much to wrap them around him, slide them under his t-shirt, graze my fingernails across his warm skin, but I don't want him to know how weak I am.  I want to be strong.  I need to be strong. If wrap my arms around him then it would be tantamount to forgiveness.  It would be me telling him that hiding his son and keeping secrets and not trusting me is all right.   Right now I need to be stronger than that. 

"Jake plea-" I begin to protest but he kisses me again, stealing the words out of my mouth with his own.  I weaken again and allow him deeper into my mouth.  Stronger than this Alex. Much stronger.  

As his hands move down and begin to slide up my dress from behind and his bare skin grazes the back of my thighs, I feel my legs tremble and I need grip onto him for stability.  

Then his mobile rings.  Loud and urgent.

His mobile is always ringing at the pinnacle of my lack of self control it seems.  Saving me, from myself.  

He ignores the noise entirely and moans into my mouth. I twist my head and use my hands to push at his body until he releases me and he growls in frustration as he does.   As I extract myself from his arms and step back out of his heat he's breathing hard and his eyes are hot, as his phone continues to ring loud.   He needs to answer it before it wakes his son. 

Finally he takes the phone out of his pocket, glances at it and shuts off the call.

"Your taxi's downstairs." He states.

As I nod I realise that I cant drag my eyes or my body any further away from his.  The idea of leaving him makes me feel ill, sick to my stomach and like some insurmountable task I've no hope of completing.  Being away from him is always hard, but now?  Tonight?   I'm not sure I can do this. I need to do this. 

He looks like he wants to say something but is holding his mouth shut tight to stop himself from doing so.  He looks angry again maybe and hurt, and I hate that I'm causing any of it. 

With some degree of effort I manage to drop my eyes from his and force myself to turn away.  I cross to the breakfast bar and lift my jacket and bag and move in the direction of the front door.  

As I do this, an overwhelming sense of panic washes over me and my feet stop moving and my body seems to turn to stone, or something equally hard, weighty and immovable. When I look back at him he's staring at me, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense, an his eyes full of emotion.

"Let me walk you down," He says and moves toward me. 

I shake my head. "No, you can't leave Caleb alone."

His mouth purses into a firm line and he stops walking.   He begins biting the inside of his mouth again in that way he does. The way I now know is him probably trying to stop himself from talking.  Because he doesn't want to talk to me.  Because he wants to keep things from me.

"Alex I need you to know.  Before you go, I need you to know that I'm-" he moves toward me again but I put my hand up to stop him and he stops moving. 

"I know Jake.  You don't have to say it again," I shake my head.  I can't have him come close to me again.  I'll cave if he comes near me again.  I can still taste him on my mouth and smell him on my skin and the need I have for him is a loud thundering vibration through my entire body.  He doesn't need to come closer to say it anyway.  He doesn't need to say it all.   He's said it over and over and I don't need to hear it again because I know.    He's sorry.

His expression flickers with something, making me think that maybe that's not what he was going to say at all, but then he lets out a breath. He drops his shoulders and then his eyes and then nods.

Without his eyes on me it feels easier to move and so I turn and walk away from him, past the room where his son is sleeping to the front door.  The sound of him following behind me is comforting.   When I get to the door I stop and turn around, to say goodbye I think, but it doesn't matter because I don't get a chance. He moves quickly, his mouth and his body pressing me backwards against the door with a gentle force.  His mouth is dominant and hungry and his body is strong and hard as it is pushes into me.   He runs his hands down my face to my neck, moving them across the skin of my throat and chest before sliding them down and behind my body to pull me closer to him. As I kiss him back with the same sort of hunger I feel the corresponding sensation between my legs, a gnawing building heat that wants to pull him inside me. Fighting my desire for him is the anger. I'm so angry with him.  He did this to us.  Why did he do this?   It didn't have to be like this. It will always be like this with him though won't it? It doesn't matter. You'll never feel a fraction of this with anyone else.  If you think you will you're kidding yourself.  He's everything you want.  You're in love with him. I need to get out of here. 

I push at his chest but he doesn't move and continues to lap at my mouth with his tongue as he slides his hand between my thighs, cupping me possessively with hot greedy fingers. 

"Don't leave me Alex, please baby," he groans against my mouth. I moan as his fingers skim the outside of my underwear and I want to cry from the amount of desire and pain that I feel.  It's too hard.   With one final push of my body he moves back a step and all at once all of his heat disappears from every part of my body.  I try not to look at him as I turn around and reach for the handle.

I feel his hand over mine.  "Tell me we aren't over," He says as he pushes his foot against the door.  "Tell me you just need some space.  Tell me you fucking hate me for keeping this from you but that it isn't over.   Tell me you still want me Alex." He demands.

I turn my head to look at him then which is a mistake because the intensity of his eyes is a level I've never seen before.  Dangerously dark, sad too, but the heat and desire in them is suffocating. I can't breathe.

"Jake please don't...' I whisper, dropping my eyes again.  My vision feels blurry.  Am I crying?  It feels like I'm crying.   "I need...." I can't finish the sentence because I really don't know what I need.  Apart from him.  My only need is him. I need to go.

"Tell me you still want me baby.  I need to hear you say it." He says, softer now, sensually.  "I can let you walk out of here if I know you still want me."

Of course I still want him.  He knows that.  I can't say it though.  I won't.  He knows too much if I say it and he needs to know how it feels to not know.  He needs to be in the dark for once. 

"You should have told me," is what I say. My voice is sad and quiet and his intense glare is replaced immediately by one of deep regret. 

He looks down at his hand over mine and nods before I feel the pressure ease off.   I turn the handle but still have to force the door open.  He gives some ground reluctantly to allow me to pull it wide enough to squeeze through.

As I walk away from him I feel his eyes burn heavy into the back of my head.

"That's not a no Alex.." He says, his voice chasing me down the corridor. 

For the third time that day I walk to that lift on unstable legs and with a heart which feels heavy and ever so slightly broken.

**A Dark Fall is now Available on Ebook and Paperback on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited***