Crossing the Line (26 page)

He chuckles, knowing it’s something stupid.
Or I hope that’s what he assumes… “Go on.”

“I skied straight down the hill.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t do that.” Well I know
that now. “Didn’t your instructor teach you how to do it properly? You do have
an instructor don’t you? Surely they’ve not let you go out with no experience.”
His concern is sweet and makes my heart ache. I do miss him already.

“Yes I do and yes he did. I thought it was
stupid, so I decided to try it my way.”

“Of course you did.”

“Whatever. How is everything back home?”

“Busy. Too quiet. I miss you. My mum’s
planned lunch for when you guys get back. I know it’s the last thing you want,
but it’d already been arranged by the time she told me.”

I groan internally. “It’s fine. How was
your night out?”

“It was good. I’d missed a lot, so we’ve
made a pact to get together once a month and play cards.”

“Wow, how rock n roll are you, Grandad,” I
joke.

“Sorry, would you prefer me to go to clubs,
do drugs and screw other girls in the bathrooms?”

“I would not. Anyway, I’ve got to go, Mum’s
waiting for me. Love you, bye.” I hear him laugh and say bye just as I hang up.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Mum is sipping on champagne when I return.
She really is on holiday.

“I’ve been thinking, and you’re right,” Mum
says. Thank God I’ve just sat back down because that would have knocked me off
my feet. “Marriage now would be too soon for you. You’ve always been one to go
against the grain. All that matters is you have a great man who will look after
you.”

I take a deep breath and push away thoughts
of throwing her champagne in her face. “Mum, I don’t need to be looked after.”
Jesus if I had a pound for every times I’ve said that I would be richer than
her.

“Oh, Amelie, be serious. Why on earth would
you choose Aden if you didn’t want to be looked after? I was so thrilled when I
found out. Deep down you do want to be taken care of.” I grit my teeth. “And
that’s okay. Not that you’ll ever admit it, though.”

“Mum, I’m with Aden because I love him, not
because he has money.”

She smiles a smug little smile that makes
me seriously consider pushing her off a cliff tomorrow. “Of course. Are you
having desert? I think I’m going for the tiramisu.” How can she just breeze
past that? I take a deep breath.

As the days pass so does my patience. I’ve
lost count of the amount of comments Mum’s made about me secretly wanting her
life. The fact that she’s not lying at the bottom of a mountain with a ski
shoved through her heart really does say a lot about my self-control. I never
knew it was that good. We have only two days left and tomorrow we fly home in
the evening.

Aden is right about this holiday helping my
relationship with my mum. I can now spend time with her without wanting to die.
She isn’t evil; we’re just too different. It’ll be a while before we spend a
lot of time together once we’re back, but I think the time we do spend together
from now on will bearable, maybe even enjoyable.

My legs ache so much from the skiing. I’m
sure I don’t have as many muscles as what are hurting right now. My clothes
have just started letting moisture in from falling over so much. Skiing is
harder than it bloody looks, and over the course of the week I’ve decided that
it isn’t necessary. Sweating and aching is overrated, unless it’s happening
between the sheets. If I don’t have rock hard thighs next week, I’m going
to sue. Whoever came up with skiing is probably looking up at me from hell,
laughing his arse off.

“How far up would you like to go?” Mum
asks.

My legs scream in protest. “I don’t. I
don’t want to go up. I don’t want these on my feet,” I snap, waving my hand at
the skis. “And I don’t want to be anywhere near snow.”

She turns to face me. “You’re not enjoying
it anymore?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“There is no need to be sarcastic, Amelie.
Would you prefer to return the equipment now and we can spend the whole day
shopping rather than just this afternoon?”

“I have never wanted anything more.”

“Right, then. Back we go. Lets
shower and I just want to speak to reception about booking with your
father before we leave.”

She turns around and heads back into the
god-forsaken shack that I hope I never lay eyes on again. As beautiful it is up
here, looking out at the snow topped mountains and perfect blue sky, I’m ready
to go.

Mum and I have our showers, and then she
asks me to give her half an hour while she goes down to speak to someone at
reception. Do doubt she’s cornered the hotel manager down there. I’m glad to
have the suit to myself for a while though.

I lie back on the bed and call Aden. “Hey,”
he says on the third ring.

“Hi,” I reply, smiling. I didn’t think I’d
miss him as much I do.

“How’s it going? Many more bruises?”

“Yes, many. No more skiing now, though.
When Mum gets back from talking to someone downstairs about another holiday
– thankfully not for me, and her – we’re going shopping.”

“I’ll kiss them better when you get back,”
he says, referring to my bruises. They don’t hurt and didn’t when I got them,
but I’m not turning down having his lips on my skin.

“You’d better.”

“What’re you shopping for? Italian
underwear?”

I roll my eyes. “Might do.”

“Yeah, what kind?”

“Something small and lacy.” He groans down
the phone, making me laugh and turning me on at the same time. I miss that I
want you groan. I bite my lip as I picture Aden pulling off that underwear with
his teeth. “Aden, I want you,” I whisper as my body pounces to life.

“Oh come on, don’t say things like that
when you’re in a different fucking country.” I laugh, picturing his tortured
face. “Touch yourself,” he says after a beat, and I almost choke on air.

“What?” I ask, needing him to repeat in
case he’s said something like ‘how’s the weather’ and I’ve completely misheard.

I hear him gulp. “You’re alone. Reach down
and touch yourself.”

Yes, definitely heard right.

I’m caught between being so shocked I want
to hang up and so turned on I want a self-inflicted orgasm right now. “Aden,” I
say, still stunned.

“Amelie, I’m not asking you,” he
says and the playfulness in his voice is gone. It’s replaced with
something raw, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

I close my eyes, and my heart flies in my
chest as I slip my hand under the waistband of my leggings. My breathing is
embarrassingly loud and his only mimics mine. Am I doing this alone? “Aden,
what’re you doing?”

He laughs breathlessly down the phone. “You
tell me.” Okay, whoa, how hot?

I lick my dry lips. “ I want you doing the
same. Undo your trousers and grip that cock.”

“Shit,” he hisses and a fire spreads over
my body. He groans, and I know he’s doing what I’ve asked. “Rub your clit,
baby, like I would.” Jesus. I let my fingers trail to the left, and I press
down, trying to absorb the throbbing pleasure. Why the hell do we have to be in
different countries?

“Aden,” I moan, rubbing softly in a small
circle.

His breathing quickly accelerates, harshens
until he’s panting down the phone and I know I don’t have to tell him to do
anything because he’s already there. “I wish I was inside you,” he growls. “Put
two fingers inside, do it for me.” Who am I to say no to that? I stop the
rubbing and want to cry as the fire spreads. “Are you in?”

“Yes,” I reply, closing my eyes as I sink
my finger inside myself. I should feel self-conscious, but I don’t, I feel sexy
and naughty. My body coils and I pant as I feel that familiar feeling building
up inside me.

“Baby,” he says, almost desperately.
“Picture my fingers inside you and my tongue circling your clit.” I gasp.
Fuck!
I do it and flick my fingers
faster. I picture him, the feel of his fingers inside, his hot breath blowing
over me, and that skilled tongue flicking frantically. “I want to be inside you
so fucking bad.”

“I want you inside me so fucking bad,” I
reply, standing on the edge, so close to falling off. “I want to feel your cock
inside. Aden, I love you.” I tense, arching my back as I convulse around my
fingers, spiralling out of control as my orgasm rolls on and on.

I vaguely hear Aden call out as he lets go
too, but I can’t hear what. “Jesus, Amelie,” he whispers after a minute.

“I know,” I reply as I float back down to
earth. I remove my fingers, making a mental note to touch nothing. “I’ve never
had phone sex before.”

“Me neither. I wish we’d thought of this
earlier. You’re coming home tomorrow.”

“Want me to stay here longer?”

“No,” he replies quickly. “Next thing to go
inside you is going to be me.”

“How romantic.” He laughs, and I join in.
My head still feels like it’s swimming.

The door opening makes me jump, and I
readjust my leggings, leaping off the bed. “Mum’s back, I’ve got to go,” I
whisper down the phone.

“Alright. Love you,” he says, and I can
practically see the massive smirk on his face.

“Love you too.” I walk into the main room,
and she’s standing there, just looking. “Get everything sorted?”

“Yes, I did. Are you ready to go?”

“Um, yes, I just need the bathroom first.”

“Honestly, Amelie, you’ve been alone for
half an hour, could you not have gone before?”

I
don’t really need to pee; I want to wash my goddam hand!
“Didn’t need it before, won’t be a minute,” I say, making a dash
for the bathroom.

“Where to, Mum?” I ask as step out of the
gondola. We’re at the town level now, and I’ve never been so happy to shop with
my mother before. The little town is quaint and traditional with cute shops and
stalls selling freshly made crepes and the best Belgian chocolate ice cream I
have ever tasted.

“Do you need to get Aden a gift?” Mum asks.

“Yes, but I don’t know what to get him?”

“What about a nice Italian leather watch?”

Okay that’s actually a good suggestion.
“Yeah, he’d like that.” Aden has quite a big watch collection. “Black leather
is more him, I think.”

Mum smiles. “Okay. I may get one for your
father too. He’s a big fan of the Italian craftsmanship.”

“Oh, and I want to get Aden a crappy fridge
magnet. You think they’ll have a novelty gift shop around here?”

Mum pulls a sour, just sucked on a lemon
face. “No, I do not. No one has a need for those tacky things.” She walks off
towards the jewellers, and I stick my tongue out behind her back like a
six-year-old.

I step into the shop behind Mum, and I’m
instantly hit with the smell of new leather. It shouldn’t smell nice, because
of what it is, but it does. The guy behind the counter, your typical Italian Stallion,
looks like he should be shirtless, smothered in baby oil and sprawled across a
motorbike.

Mum starts talking in Italian, and I’m
done. I can understand a lot of words, but I can’t hold an entire conversation.
She turns to me when Mr Italy walks into a room behind a red curtain. “He’s
getting the watches.” I look down at about fifty watches lined up neatly in the
display case. “Oh not those, Amelie. They keep the best ones in the back.”

“Of course,” I reply and turn my head so I
can roll my eyes without her seeing. Next time Mum suggests we go away for
longer than a weekend I’m ill.

Mr Italy walks back out, his chocolate eyes
shining with euro signs. Mum may be shallow, but she was right about the better
watches. I instantly narrow it down to two. One is round, and the other is more
of a dress watch with a curved rectangular face.

“Oh goodness, Amelie! Will you please
choose?” Mum hisses.

“Don’t rush me or I’ll make the wrong
choice!”

“He will love either of those. They’re both
lovely watches. Now you’re being ridiculous. It does not take this long to make
a decision.”

“Why don’t we split up and meet later?” I
suggest.
Say yes. Please, please, please!

Mum sighs. “Fine. I’ll call you in an
hour.” And then she’s gone.

Sighing in relief, I look back at the man
that would be in my bed if I didn’t have a boyfriend. “She seems hard work,” he
says in a thick Italian accent.

“You have no idea. I’ll go with this one,
please,” I say, pointing to the round face one. He has a lot of fancy watches,
so I like that I’m getting him a more casual one he could wear with a simple
t-shirt.

I sit next to Mum on the plane and actually
feel a little sad to be leaving. She’s driven me insane, but it was kind of
nice. We’ve never had that before, and I’ve always felt like she didn’t want to
spend any time with me. It’s nice to know that it was her idea, and that means
she can’t dislike me that much, right?

“Well that was a very pleasant holiday,”
Mum says, sipping on yet another glass of champagne.

I nod. “Yeah it was. Thanks, Mum.”

“We should do it again. Make it an annual
thing.” All right, calm down. An annual weekend spa would be okay but not
another weeklong holiday. “I’ve really enjoyed spending time together. We’ve
never done that before, have we?” I shake my head. “I do love you, Amelie. Even
if it doesn’t seem like it to you.”

My heart swells and my throat closes up.
I’ve not heard her say that since I was a child. “I love you too, Mum. Even if
it doesn’t seem like it to you.”

She smiles and raised her glass. “To us.”

I clink my glass against hers, fighting the
urge to cry. “To us.”

As the plane lands, I make the decision to
try more with my parents. There must be something that we can do together, some
common ground, like a spa with Mum or a rugby game with Dad. I definitely
wouldn’t mind looking at men in shorts for a while. Maybe there’s even
something me and Isabel can do together? I could take her out to a bar and see
if I can find her a man.

“Well, back to normal,” Mum says as our
plane lands in England. “You ready for lunch at the Fords?”