Free Freefalling by Zara Stoneley

know.’
    ‘You can still –’
    ‘I know.’ She took a step forward and kissed him, just to shut him up, try and stop him trying to work it out for her. ‘I need to do this for myself.’
    ‘I can help.’ Her heart quickened almost painfully in her chest at the gentle look on his face. Storming out of the studio had been childish and she’d only got as far as the bottom stair before she’d known, before it had hit her that she’d spent her whole life using her art as a security blanket, as an excuse for not letting anyone get close.
    ‘No, Tom.’
    ‘You still want me to go?’
    ‘I’ve got to jump solo this time.’ She grinned, and stepped back away from temptation. ‘You can come back later.’ She shoved her hands into her pockets. ‘If you still want to, that is?’

Chapter Seven
    Hayley lay back on the studio floor and looked up at the stars, her own bit of heaven. She was knackered, totally bloody knackered, and every bit of her body seemed to ache in its own sweet way, but a gentle buzz of satisfaction was humming through her. The same buzz she had when Tom held her close, after he’d just about shagged her senseless.
    What Tom did to her scared her. Shitless. Not the buzz bit, just the “everything else” bit. It had never been about simple highs and lows like she’d had with Chris; the happy or sad, the screaming or sex. It was warm and fuzzy, anticipation and fear mingled in a way that was filling her head and her heart but not tearing her apart. Just all-invading, as though Tom belonged there. Which was definitely bloody scary. And yet somehow she still had space, space to do what she wanted and space to fill with him.
    He might not still want her, but she had to stop being a wimp, and face up to the facts. She loved him and all she’d had to do was let him into her head and stop trying to block him out, even if she’d had to throw him out of the house before she could do it.
    Once she’d started she couldn’t stop. She’d never worked so long on one piece and she hadn’t even needed sketches, she’d just painted straight onto the canvas. It was him, her tiger in the night. A tiger that morphed into so many other things, but the essence of him was there, in the centre. Strong. And that was what he was all about, what his business was all about, power and success. She’d captured the smouldering in his eyes that she loved, a golden glow just about to burst into flames, and she’d captured the movement, the mystery, the pent-up drive and energy, the latent power about to be unleashed. The colours were wild, but it was right for him, his business. It was change, challenge, and the pure magnetic force of the man behind it. Anyone who looked would be able to see the eyes, the essence, but not the man. Her man.
    Her mobile stuttered into life and she reached an arm out lazily, yawning as she picked up.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ There was a sharp edge of concern. Shit, she’d made the man paranoid.
    ‘Nothing, I was yawning.’
    ‘You sound strange.’
    Something stirred in her core, the warmth starting to spiral in her stomach. ‘I am strange; I need you to come over.’
    ‘There’s definitely something wrong, Hayley; it’s past midnight and you’re asking me over.’
    ‘Hey Mr Boring, whoever said everything stops at midnight?’ She stretched her toes out, and the tension built in her muscles, sending a fresh tingle to the top of her thighs.
    ‘I’m actually in my car outside, but I didn’t like to just knock in case it made you come over all artistic again.’
    The grin tugged at her insides and set the butterflies off. ‘I think I’ve done enough coming over all artistic for one day.’ She laughed into the pensive silence. ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Come up, there’s a spare key in the big pot at the side of the door.’
    Answering the door would have been normal. But she didn’t want to go down; she wanted to wait for him here in this most private part of