Part 18 - Revelation

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You wake slowly, sleepily. It's still dark, a strange umber twilight. You're lying on your back, staring up at star shaped string lights, your head cushioned on Brahms's right arm. His long, slim body lies between you and the plain brick wall. As you come back to consciousness, you remember.   

The kiss.   The kiss that was passionate, chaste, sexy and restrained.  You'd wanted more, of course you did.   And you knew he did too.  But last night Brahms did something that he'd probably never done before in his life.  He'd given instead of taken, and acted like a gentleman. 

There's sunlight filtering through the cracks in the wall and you know it's morning.   Your sleep was dreamless, deep, healing.    You risk a glance up at him.  His face is turned away from you, the mask intact.   You wonder how he can sleep in it.   But you know he never does.  He's only doing so now because of you.

You shift position to turn towards him; running your right arm around his middle.   You hear him inhale long and deeply, then turn to face you. 

"Good morning, Brahms."

You get the strong impression he's smiling down at you.    You can still feel those kisses.   

He reaches out and holds you in a bear hug.  Crushed up against him, you can hardly breathe.  His strength still terrifies you, but you know he's also capable of tenderness.   Brahms needs careful handling as he's extremely reactive.  So, you endure his hug, but feel relieved when he releases you.

In return you reach across him and lay your head on his chest.   The firm valley between his pectoral muscles is the perfect pillow.   You feel like you could lie here forever.   You feel him stroking your hair.   Drowsy and contented you start to doze again.   The banging on the door makes you both jump.

"Christ, who the hell is that?"   You jump up, and swing your legs to the floor.   Brahms is propped on one elbow staring towards the door.

"It's OK, Brahms.  I'll sort it out.  It may be the lawyer your parents wrote about.   Or perhaps the delivery boy.   We should have padlocked the driveway gates."

You smooth your hair and hesitate only a moment before leaning down to kiss his porcelain lips.

~

You unlock the front door to find two police officers and a man in a grey suit standing there.  

"Yes?"

Miss Y/N?"

"Yes."

"May we come in?"

"Are you the Heelshire's lawyer?"  you ask the man in the suit.   

He nods.  "Solicitor and executor of the Will."

Reluctantly, you show them into the sitting room.  You offer refreshments.  They decline.  The man in the suit, whose name you learn is McAvoy, comes straight to the point.  "I have papers you need to sign."   

While he sorts out the paperwork, you glance at the two cops  wondering why on earth they are here.   Joel?

You hope to God Brahms doesn't make a peep behind those walls.

After thirty minutes of explanations, signing and listening to the Heelshire's executor explain the workings of the Will, you suddenly remember something.

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