The Aussie Next Door

by Stefanie London

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jace didn’t know what was going on. It was like he was a pendulum swinging from one extreme to the other. Thoughts swirled in his head. They were wrong for each other, their goals didn’t align now—or for the future.

  But his body was aching for her; his hands couldn’t be full enough of her.

  And he wanted nothing more than to throw her down on the couch and lose himself in that tangled chestnut hair and those wide whiskey eyes and lush lips. But this wasn’t something to be rushed. He shifted forward on the couch, lifting her and encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. Then he turned them both and laid her down. Her hair spilled around her, and her chest rose and fell with her quickened breath.

  “How long?” she asked.

  “Too long.” He pressed his face to her neck and inhaled the scent of faded perfume and sunscreen on her skin. “You captivated me from the moment you walked up to my front door.”

  “The first day?”

  “The first second.” He’d never been the kind of guy to be swept away by looks—because Jace was far too logical for that. Love at first sight was not a thing. But Angie’s spirit had been so loud and so clear—that hopeful, expectant smile socking him like a clenched fist straight to his chest. She was everything carefree he wished he could be. “You demanded that I pay attention to you with all your questions. All your words. I never stood a chance.”

  “I thought you weren’t interested in getting to know me.” Her hands curved around his face, and she pulled his mouth down to hers. “You seemed to keep your distance.”

  “I thought life was easier if I stuck to myself.” He brushed the hair back from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. “But maybe I was wrong.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like you. A lot.”

  The smile that lit her face could have powered him for the rest of his life. “I like you, too.”

  When she kissed him this time, there was no hesitation. There was no gentle exploration. Her arms looped around his neck, and she held him tight as if they were swaying in the ocean and he was her life raft and God, it felt good. Being wanted by someone like Angie—someone so kind and sweet and true—was like coming home after being away too damn long.

  “Uh, Jace?” She pulled away for a second. “How do you feel about having an audience?”

  He turned to the side and was met with two pairs of doggy eyes that were a little too close for comfort. “We should take this to the bedroom.”

  “Given Truffle has trouble controlling his animal urges…uh, yeah.” She laughed.

  Jace pushed up from the couch and swept Angie into his arms, her legs dangling as she shrieked and clutched his neck. The noise turned to laughter when he strode through his house, kicking the bedroom door shut behind them and leaving two disappointed pooches in his wake.

  “Privacy achieved.” He laid Angie down on his bed.

  Outside, the sun was sinking on the horizon, and it bathed the room in a rich golden glow. For a moment, he could only stare.

  “Are you changing your mind?” she whispered.

  “No.” He stood at the end of the bed, letting his eyes feast on her. “Just making sure I remember every single detail of this.”

  Excitement flickered across her face as he sank to his knees on the mattress, capturing her ankle in his palms, his thumbs tracing the small protruding bone there.

  “I want to remember this bit.” His hands slid up her calf to the bend in her knee. “And this bit.” Then farther up still over the gentle curve of her hip. “And this bit.”

  His fingers curled into the waistband of her bikini bottoms, and he tugged the fabric down her legs. Soon her T-shirt and bikini top followed. She didn’t try to cover herself; instead she stretched out, arching her back off the bed and thrusting her small pink-tipped breasts in the air.

  “You’re perfect,” he said, coming down over her and taking one in his mouth. Her skin was sweet and smooth, her nipple hard as he rolled it against his tongue.

  Her hand fisted in his hair, tugging sharply. So there was a bit of sting with the sweetness. Jace returned in kind, scraping his teeth over the peak of her breast and eliciting a pleasure-filled sound from her.

  “Yes,” she gasped, but she pulled his head to her other breast. He worshipped her skin, sucking and nipping and tugging until pink marks peppered her. Her hands smoothed up his chest, driving under the cotton of his T-shirt. “You need to get rid of this now.”

  It came off in one fluid motion, and he pushed down his shorts and underwear together. Heat swelled within him as her eyes took him in, slowly and languidly. Her gaze burned a path from his chest all the way down. Reaching out, she caught the tip of him with her fingertips, and his whole body tensed, the muscles in his shoulders bunching up around his neck as he tried to control the excitement racing through him.

  Stepping out of her reach, he lowered his head to her stomach. Her skin was hot against his cheek but smooth—the opposite of his stubble-roughened jaw. A soft sigh came from her lips, and the gentle pressure of her hand against his head told him what she wanted. His lips blazed a trail down her stomach, and he pressed a chaste kiss at her hip.

  “Please, Jace.” Her voice trembled as he nuzzled the sensitive spot at the apex of her sex, reveling in the scent of her. So musky and intoxicating.

  He had an ounce of control left—a mere thread—but he was going to cling to it. His tongue flicked over her, gentle at first. Teasing.

  “Please…” The rest of her words dissolved into a string of pleasure sounds as he blew against her heated skin. Goose bumps rippled across her thighs and stomach. “Oh God.”

  He couldn’t hold back anymore. As he sucked at her most sensitive part, her fingernails dug into his shoulders, and knowing there’d be marks tomorrow got him all hot and bothered. Her hips rolled against his mouth, and she cried his name. Softly at first. Then louder.

  He felt the pressure building inside her, and when she was close, he slipped a finger between the lips of her sex, pressing it inside her. She came hard against his mouth. When the tremors subsided and her legs fell away, her fingers moved from tugging to something far softer.

  “Best long weekend ever,” she said, her breathing shallow.

  A laugh rumbled deep in his chest. “How’s that for a little holiday magic?”

  “Hmm.” She reached for him lazily. “I certainly saw fireworks.”

  “Is this the part where I make a joke about something down under?”

  She flung an arm over her eyes and laughed. “The jokes basically write themselves here.”

  Running his hands under the hollow of her back, he lifted her up to him, and she wound her arms around his neck. If he didn’t have her soon, he was going to burst. They lay in a tangle of limbs for several heartbeats, and he had to tear himself away to dig out a condom from the still unopened box in his bathroom.

  She watched from the bed with hungry eyes as he tore the foil and rolled the rubber down his length. But this, too, wasn’t to be rushed. Since neither of them had any idea where this was going, he would take his sweet time and enjoy the flare of her pupils as she watched him handle himself.

  His pulse raced. Damn, she excited him. She made his blood rush in his ears and heart pound heavy and hard in his chest. He had to hold back the desire to race to the finish line. Her hand stretched out, and he slid his cock into her palm. “Mm, yes.”

  The bed shifted as he knelt between her legs, spreading her apart with his hands. The smokiness in her eyes urged him on, and he was desperate to hear her moan again. To feel her clench around him as he took her. His skin tingled. He felt so…alive.

  So that’s what that saying means.

  He understood it now—that breathing and a heartbeat weren’t the only things required to feel alive. Being with her made him feel so much more.


  “No more waiting.” Her legs came around his waist, her ankles crossing behind his back. “Please, I want this.”

  He pressed against the entrance to her sex, waiting for her to shift into position before he pushed inside. Her hot muscles clamped around him as he buried himself to the hilt.

  “Oh, Jace,” she sighed. “Yes.”

  His face pressed against the sweet curve of her neck as he gave her a moment to adjust to him. “You feel so good. So tight. So perfect.”

  She urged him on by rolling her hips and meeting him thrust for thrust. Their bodies fused together, he slid his arms under her, pressing her to him so that no air could get between them. He had to be as close to her as possible.

  “Yes.” She arched in his arms, her head lolling on the pillow as she rubbed against him.

  He could feel her orgasm gathering again, tightening her, tensing her. The second she broke, it pushed him over and he pounded into her, eyes clamped shut, until he found his own release.

  After, when Angie had slumped against him and pressed her face to the base of his neck, he felt incredibly at ease. Peaceful, even. What he’d been missing all this time was human contact. Being here alone every day and avoiding neighbors and trying to pretend he was the protagonist of his comic had left him feeling…like a shell.

  And it was Angie who’d given him what he hadn’t even known he was missing.

  Outside, the sound of the trees rustling in the evening breeze was a soothing soundtrack. It mingled with the gentle in-out whoosh of Angie’s breath and warm puffs of air that heated his skin. She was curled into him, her cheek at his chest and her eyes heavy-lidded and her arms tucked between them.

  She was going to leave soon.

  The thought, which should have been the ultimate get out of jail free card—no expectations, no awkward conversations—left him with a rock in his stomach. Knowing they were over before they’d even started had him wanting to hold her tighter.

  Eventually the silence was broken by the scratch of doggy paws at the bedroom door. Angie lifted her head—looking groggy and sleepy and sexy as all get out. “They’re wondering what happened to us.”

  “Tell ’em we’re busy.” He kissed her temple.

  “That’s mean. We shouldn’t keep them locked out.”

  “You want to let them in?” He chuckled when a smile immediately lit up her face. “Go on.”

  Angie got off the bed and went to Jace’s chest of drawers, pulling each one open until she found what she was looking for. After liberating a clean T-shirt, she slipped it over her head, and it hung down to her knees. Jace tugged his underwear on and then hopped back into bed. A second later, she pushed the door open and two excitable creatures burst into the room.

  “They were worried.” Angie bent down and scooped Truffle up into her arms. Never one to be left out of the action, Tilly nudged Angie’s leg until she was rewarded with a head scratch of her own.

  Then the three of them piled up onto Jace’s bed in one big, messy, furry tangle, and he wondered if maybe a life with a little more fuss wasn’t so bad after all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Angie lay on the bed with Jace, her head resting against his chest and her belly full of the delicious peanut butter toast they’d made, trying—and failing—not to give too much away to the dogs. Carbohydrates were important, she’d come to understand, to sustain marathon sex sessions. There’d been a long-weekend fireworks show on the beach, and they had a great view from the deck while they ate, and then they’d napped on the bed, woken, shooed the dogs out, and then he’d made her come twice more before they’d gotten in the shower for another round. Eventually they’d fallen into an exhausted sleep around three a.m.

  Now the sun was up and buttery morning light filtered into the bedroom. She watched the clouds shift in the breeze and listened to the sound of Jace’s heavy breathing while Tilly and Truffle curled up at their feet.

  Was this torture?

  The perfect image of a life she’d never have—a loving husband, fur babies, sunshine, and anonymity to live freely and separately from her past. A home. A sweet, sweet home with a comfy bed and a sprawling backyard and a kitchen with that one cupboard that wouldn’t close right but that she would love anyway.

  Tears pricked the backs of Angie’s eyes. She knew Jace’s story—knew that he wouldn’t let her get too close or let this thing get too far. And by sleeping with him now—no matter how much she’d wanted it—she’d shot her Expedited Love plans in the foot. Because there was no one else on her list…only him.

  A friend had given her some advice before she left—be safe and make some better memories, she’d said.

  This probably wasn’t what she’d had in mind…or maybe it was? Reckless, potentially heartbreaking sex counted as a good memory, right? It would only hurt if she let it.

  He’d almost married a woman who was in love with his brother. Who didn’t accept him as he was. Why would he want to be with her, knowing she had something to gain from the relationship? Trust couldn’t exist in such a situation.

  Still, the talk last night had led her to one conclusion: She deserved happiness. She deserved that night with him, no matter where it might—or might not—lead. The important stuff was the here and now, the present. Because who knew whether there would be a tomorrow?

  “My feet are going to sleep,” Jace said, his voice sleep-heavy and sexier than ever. “I’m going to have serious pins and needles when Tilly decides to move.”

  “You softie,” she said. “You love that dog so much.”

  “I don’t know about love.” He cocked his head. “But she is awesome. They both are.”

  “I’ve come around to her.” Angie’s hands brushed Tilly’s soft fur, and the dog rolled over to expose her belly. “Look at that level of trust.”

  “If you rub her belly, she’ll love you forever.”

  “I think I can handle that.”

  A pause filled the air, and Angie found herself wondering what would happen when their bubble burst. She wasn’t eager to retreat to her place now that there was something developing between them, something unexpected and wonderful. Something she wanted to explore.

  Still, their time together had an expiration date. She couldn’t forget that.

  “My nan would have liked you,” he said out of nowhere.

  She swallowed, keeping her face toward the dogs so he couldn’t see how much that statement made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. “Yeah?”

  “She liked people who didn’t shy away from difficult things. Who were resilient.”

  A lump lodged itself in her throat. How could his ex have ever thought he wasn’t a passionate person? That he was too logical? Too rigid? The scary thing was Jace had so much passion inside him, when he trusted someone enough to let it out. She had a feeling she’d caught a rare glimpse of who he really was. And he was even more perfect to her now than he had been yesterday.

  But at the moment, all those feelings were a little too much. She needed time to sift through all the swirling thoughts in her head and figure out how to tackle the royal mess she’d made.

  “Was that too much?” He let out a laugh and rubbed the morning scruff on his jaw—somehow managing to look adorably awkward and charming all at once. “I told you I don’t always know the right thing to say.”

  “It was very sweet.” She bit down on her lower lip. “A lack of filter can be a good thing.”

  “My teachers never appreciated it.” His hands drifted lazily over where her arm peeked out from the sleeve of the T-shirt she’d stolen from his drawer. “They always thought I was causing trouble when I was expressing myself. I guess that’s why I started drawing. It got me into less trouble.”

  Angie smiled at the thought of a younger Jace doodling away in the back of his school notebook. She could picture it vividly—his mop of sandy-colored hai
r flopping over his forehead, blue eyes narrowed in concentration.

  “Can I see what you’re working on now?” she asked, sitting up.

  “You want to see my comic?” He sounded so surprised, a laugh burst out of Angie.

  “I do. Is that weird?”

  “It’s not, I guess.” He got out of the bed, quickly pulled up his jeans from last night, and ducked into the studio, which was next to the bedroom and also faced the backyard. He returned with a notebook. “It’s just not a request I get very often.”

  “Well, I’m interested. I’ve never known an artist before, and it’s a pretty cool job, if you ask me.” Angie looked through the notebook with sketches. “You gave Hermit a pet!”

  “I didn’t mean to, but I was having a day where I couldn’t move the story along and…well, a dog seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  The little character was big-eyed and scruffy, with pointy ears. Little thought bubbles showed the dog’s wisecrack comments to Hermit’s antics. “Oh my God, I love it. He’s hilarious!”

  “I made him a mash-up of Tilly and Truffle.” He leaned over, and the heat from his body sent a little shiver down Angie’s spine. “He’s got Truffle’s energy and what I imagine is Tilly’s sarcastic running commentary.”

  “Funny, that’s exactly how I imagined she’d sound if dogs could talk, too.” The latest strip showed Hermit shaking his fist at a man with a round belly, who was holding a fistful of money. “This is about the bridge, right?”

  “You’re up to date. I’m impressed.”

  “I told you, I’m a big Jace Walters fan.” She cocked her head. “I also love that you totally made the mayor a caricature of Glen Powell. He’s perfect, right down to that ridiculous oversize mustache.”

  “It’s got me in trouble more than once,” he admitted. “That’s why you should never piss off an artist—they’ll write you into their work and it won’t be flattering.”

  “So I should look out, huh?”

  “Nah. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” He nudged her. “At this rate, I’m never going to finish the damn storyline anyway.”