I released her breast from my mouth and gazed down at her. She smirked, as though she’d heard the reckless desire rampaging through my mind. She unbuttoned her jeans and wiggled them down her hips, revealing more white lace, and pushed at my waistband.
“Get naked.”
Like I needed to be told twice. I shucked my sweats, matching her smirk at my lack of underwear with one of my own until her jeans disappeared, and I was left with the sight of her in nothing but tiny boy shorts that clung to her perfectly thick thighs.
I was fucking gone. My mouth watered and I had no resistance as she lowered herself to sit on the edge of my bed and opened her legs. I sank to my knees, revelling in the firm press of hands on top of my head. Remembering. Anticipating. I slid my palms up her thighs and hooked my thumbs around her underwear. The slinky shorts went the same way as the rest of her clothes and she was finally bare to me.
My dick was heavy—throbbing—but I fought the urge to thrust inside her, and it belatedly dawned on me that it wasn’t me she wanted. Mia wanted to come. And I was ready, willing, and good at it, if I followed the cues her body had etched on my soul all those years ago.
I couldn’t make sense of the emotions having a rave in my heart, so I did the other thing I was good at and ignored them.
Breath caught, I buried my face between her legs and kissed her clit—feathery and light at first, before I went to town and worshipped her the way she’d always loved. My Mia had been a sucker for the kind of sex that took us somewhere else. Carried us off on waves of pleasure so high I’d sometimes feared we’d never come down. Teenage me had explored her with equal measures of excitement and nerves.
I wasn’t a teenager anymore. My tongue was sure of its path, and my mouth watered at her sweet taste. I thrust two fingers inside, and a harsh breath whooshed out of her.
“God, yes. Like that, like that.”
Her hands returned to my head, pushing me down again, holding me tight. I could barely breathe, but I didn’t care. My world narrowed to her charged moans and quivering flesh, and only the desperate need to make her combust stopped me jacking myself.
“Fuck. Luke.”
She tried to squeeze her thighs together, but I held her still, tonguing her hard, chasing oblivion on her behalf.
“Luke,” she ground out again. “God, fuck me.”
It took all I had not to freeze. My cock was screaming out for her, but my heart was fucking terrified. I eased off her and pulled away, staring up at her, my tongue still dripping with her taste. “You want me to fuck you?”
Her eyes blazed. “Why else would I be here?”
In answer, I crawled up her body and onto the bed, hooking my hands under her shoulders and hauling her up to the pillows.
She growled and shrugged me off, but the glint in her gaze told me I was giving her exactly what she wanted: Rough. Raw. Impersonal.
But away from the cocoon I’d created between her legs, being so close to her left me dizzy. The need to kiss her was overwhelming. I ached for her. And only fucking her would make it stop.
I wrapped my fingers loosely—briefly—around her throat, then reached across to the bedside table. A box of condoms had idled uselessly in the drawer since I’d bought the house a year ago, a housewarming present from my dickhead brother. I’d never used a condom with Mia before, but things were different now.
Things. Fuck. Everything was different now. I’d never fucked her with a condom, but I’d never moved inside her without kissing her, without stroking her hair back from her face, without telling her I loved her.
I’d never fucked her at all.
I tore open the condom and rolled it on my dick, feeling her gaze all over me, and when I looked up she was tracking my every move, eyes wide, teeth dug into her bottom lip.
Heat and doubt battled again, and heat won out. She wanted this, and I wanted her.
Mia
The way he was staring at me made me nervous. He was hot as hell, but something simmered behind his liquid gaze, and my brain couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle him when I so badly craved the stretching burn of him filling me up.
I lay back and widened my legs again, hoping he’d take the hint, and he did. Grown-up Luke was apparently as intuitive as his younger self.
He dropped a palm either side of my head. For a moment, I feared he might break my cardinal rule—the one thing keeping me sane in my new-found madness—and kiss me, but he went for my throat once more, and his dick nudged me where I wanted it most.
Nudging turned to edging, then a sure slow stroke as he slid inside me. Stars exploded. He filled the void inside me, and pleasure I couldn’t describe arched my back from the bed. From his bed.
The insanity that had carried me over here amped up a notch. I squirmed, desperately seeking more friction. Luke held me down—his grip unyielding, though I knew he’d let me go if I told him to. He stared at my lips, like he knew the battle raging in my heart, but a split second before I broke, he dipped for my throat again.
Luke had always been a natural in bed. Strength simmered behind every touch, but there was a delicacy too, as though I was his most precious thing, and the conflict in his gaze was meant for someone else. He was fucking me because I’d demanded it of him, and I couldn’t bring myself to contemplate why.
“Mia.”
Don’t say my name.
I screwed my eyes shut and pressed down on his back, urging him on all the while begging him to stop feeling what I was feeling. Please, baby, just fuck me.
Baby. Where the hell was my head at right now? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Last time he’d set me on fire without engaging my heart, so why was his every touch now—every rough brush of his lips at my throat, every thrust of his hips as he moved inside me—showing me colour when I so badly craved white oblivion?
“Mia. Look at me.”
No.
“Please?”
God, why did he have to say please? My eyes flew open of their own volition, our gazes locked, and I couldn’t escape. Luke fucked me harder, his face a study in control, while beneath him I fell apart. Pleasure rushed through me, finally threatening the chaos of everything else. My gut told me to close my eyes again, to block him out and ride the wave, but as his breath became ragged and a flush stole across his chest, I had to witness every moment.
Jesus, I’d forgotten how hot he was when he came—when his chiselled features drew together along that fine line of agonising heat. When his low gasps turned to hoarse sounds that made my blood sing. His rhythm faltered, and the jerky drive of his hips pushed me over the edge. I came with a harsh cry, digging my nails into Luke’s skin, raking them down his torso before I caught myself.
He didn’t seem to notice, lost to his own release. He thrust wildly into me, then he stilled, mouth hung open, and came with a hitched groan.
Every pulse of his cock inside me fuelled more sensation. I shuddered through every moment until he finally withdrew and rolled to his back.
Without the weight of him pinning me to the bed, the fog clouding my brain began to dissipate. Reality bit hard as my blood cooled. I was splayed naked on Luke Daley’s bed, on the cusp of begging him to screw me all over again. It was a new low of idiocy, even for me.
I sat up, keeping my back to him. My clothes were everywhere and I didn’t relish the prospect of retrieving them, naked, in front of him, but I did it anyway, and sensed his gaze all over me. “Stop staring at me.”
“I’m not.”
“Liar.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
I stepped into my jeans, stuffing my underwear into my pocket in my haste to get the hell away from him. God, I was such an idiot. Fucking around with Luke had been the worst idea I’d ever had, and I’d pitched some crazy shit in my time.
“Mia.”
“What?”
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Seriously?”
Great. Now he was incredulous. Irritation flashed through me and I spun to face him. “What did you expect? A slumber party?”
A muscle in his cheek twitched, the only sign that I was under his skin, messing with the unflappable mask the rest of the world saw. “No, but you don’t have to run off like you’ve been burned.”
You did burn me. Was that what this was? Revenge?
No. It couldn’t be. Luke had broken my heart because I’d let him... I’d loved him. That was gone now. He didn’t love me, and I didn’t love him.
Right?
Either way, snuggling under his duvet for the rest of the night was never going to happen.
I flicked another glare his way, trying not to squirm under the weight of his steady gaze. There’d been moments during our encounter when I’d had the upper hand, but the longer I stayed, the more the balance shifted in his favour. I scrambled for the rest of my clothes and willed him not to speak again.
He didn’t.
Chapter Ten
Luke
“You’re an idiot.”
I spared Gus a glance. “Hmm?”
He jumped down from the conservatory we were refurbishing. “You measured the panels wrong.”
Bollocks. I sighed and fished my battered notebook from my back pocket. “You sure?”
“Positive. And it’s the third fuck-up today, so it’s your turn to buy lunch.”
I pretty much always bought lunch to make up for the fact that Gus, despite his terminal foot-in-mouth tendencies, was the best wingman a reluctant roofer could ask for. Especially one who apparently couldn’t count. “What do you want?”
“Noodles from the market.”
“Shocker.” Of course he did. Every damn Tuesday. Not that I was complaining. It sure beat the soggy ham sandwiches we’d grabbed from the petrol station for breakfast.
Muttering, I left him to fix up my mess and drove into town, ditching the van on some double yellows by the chemist. The Thai food stall was busy, so I scribbled my order down for Kanok and made a run for the bank. The bank next door to Mia’s shop, obviously, because there was still more scope to fuck up my day.
I hadn’t seen her since I’d fucked her in my bed. I’d barely slept either and the few people I had around me on a regular basis were starting to notice I didn’t have my shit together. Fran rang me as I was queuing in the bank.
“You looked traumatised when I saw you yesterday. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”
“Ma, there’s a difference between PTSD and a hectic weekend.”
“Do you have PTSD? I’ve read about that. It can come on years after people leave active service—”
“I don’t have PTSD,” I snapped. “I spent all my time refuelling helicopters on a ship so big I hardly saw the fucking sea, let alone anything else.”
There’d been a little more to it than that, and I had seen things I’d rather forget, but in the grand scheme of war experiences, mine was pretty tame. It was hooking up with my long-lost ex I couldn’t handle.
I deflected Fran with a white lie about being three storeys off the ground, and hung up. It was my turn at the counter. I paid in a couple of cheques and made my escape. I was halfway to the door when Mia appeared.
She had nowhere to go, and neither did I. We met in the doorway, and she sighed, as though my presence was at the top of her shit list.
No change there. I started to step around her, nodding in greeting. “All right, mate?”
“Mate?” She raised a perfect brow. “Since when do you call me that?”
Since never. I tried for a smile. “What’s wrong with calling you ‘mate’? Friends, aren’t we?”
Mia snorted; a delicate, annoyed sound that riled me up more than it should’ve. “Luke, we’ve never been friends.”
She stepped around me and moved on into the bank. A growl built in my throat, coupling with the urge to drag her back and demand she tell me—show me—what we were to each other, if not friends. But I swallowed it all down and left because she was right. We’d been lovers, partners, and now we were strangers who had the kind of sex that was still keeping me up at night.
Super.
I collected lunch and returned to work in a worse mood than when I’d left.
Gus eyed me like he had something to say. I gave him my food too to keep him quiet, and climbed back up the ladders.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of glass panels and wood glue, which pissed me off even more. I hated conservatories—glass coffins that were freezing in winter and volcanic in summer. Give me a thatched roof that meant something any day of the week.
“Luke?”
“What?”
Gus took the drill out of my hand. “It’s quarter to seven. I know we work later in the summer, but you’re taking the piss right now.”
He said it with a grin, but the concern lurking in his earnest gaze got under my skin. I stood from where I’d been re-laying the decking we’d taken up to work on the conservatory. “You can go if you want.”
“You’re not coming?”
“Nah. I want to finish this tonight.”
“Why? We’re back here tomorrow anyway to wait for the new panels.”
“So? They’ll take an hour to fit. No need to be here all day.”
“Mate, there’s no need to be here all night either.”
I shrugged and reclaimed my drill. Gus sighed and wandered off. I thought he’d gone, but he reappeared a little while later with a sausage roll and a Capri Sun.
“I’ve cleaned up,” he said. “You’ll just need to sweep and pack the tools away.”
“Thanks.”
“No worries.”
He still didn’t leave. I laid a couple more boards, then gave in and downed tools. “Fuck’s sake, what do you want?”
Gus stepped closer. “I want to know you’re okay before I go home. You’ve been all over the place today and you look like shit. Is something wrong?”
Nothing that I could explain to him, but I knew Gus well enough to know he wouldn’t leave me alone without at least a cursory explanation. Excuse. Bullshit. Whatever. “I’m just tired, man. I was up late trying to get hold of Billy.”
“Oh.” Gus’s expression cleared a little. “Is he off the rails again?”
“Was he ever back on them?”
I didn’t feel bad for blaming my wayward brother for my lingering bad temper. Truth be told, I had spent the previous night trying to track him down, even if I’d used it as a distraction from sex-dreaming about Mia.
Gus put his hand on my arm, then took it off immediately.
Guilt surged through me. Gus was a tactile motherfucker, but a year after he’d come out to me, and he was still jumpy about touching me. As if I was the kind of arsehole who’d jerk away from him.
I pulled him into a fraternal hug, and the comfort of his big warm arms was instant. He was Mia’s brother, and I had one of my own out there somewhere, but God, I loved this man. “I’m all right, mate. I promise. Just got some shit in my head I need to work through, okay?”
Gus nodded and knocked his head on my shoulder. “Okay. Call me, though, yeah? If you need anything? I’m going out tonight, but I can bail early if you want to get a pint and talk?”
“I’m good. Use a condom, and don’t take drugs.”
“Fuck off.”
Gus punched me and stepped away, shooting me one last glance before he left. I felt a little bad for making him trek a mile home on foot, but not bad enough to abandon the distraction of work. Only nightfall stopped me an hour later, and by then, the fog in my brain had finally begun to dissipate.
Fucking Mia had been an inevitable mistake after she’d laid it out for me. I didn’t
regret it—how could I when being with her for just one night had taken me so fucking high?—but I couldn’t go there again. I’d worked too hard to rebuild my life to let it slip back to the numbness I’d left Rushmere with all those years ago—the numbness that had been the only thing shielding me from losing my dad and leaving her. For so long I’d felt nothing. Then I’d felt everything, and it had nearly damn killed me.
I warded off more flashbacks and drove home, bypassing the gym even though my limbs held a restlessness only pounding some weights would cure. Pounding weights or—
Fuck’s sake. I shrugged that off too and threw my van distractedly onto my driveway. The sausage roll Gus had left me was long gone, and sulking through lunch had left me starving. Dinner and a cold shower called my name.
But Mia and a pizza box waited on my doorstep.
Chapter Eleven
Mia
Luke jumped out his van with grace I could only dream of. His dirty boots hit the ground and he was in front of me before I could blink.
“What are you doing here?”
I flinched before I checked myself. I hadn’t expected a rapturous reception, but the words stung all the same. And I didn’t have a sensible response cued up, so the truth spilled out of me instead. “Gus said you were having a bad day, so I brought you a pizza.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the only thing you eat when you’re pissed off.”
He stared blankly at me and my humiliation was complete. I backed away, leaving the pizza box on the step. “Anyway. I hope you choke on it.”
I fled to my car, cheeks burning, though I couldn’t blame him. I had no explanation for the throbbing in my gut that had driven me to his doorstep about ten seconds after Gus had left for the night. The worry that had lanced my chest when he’d told me how rattled Luke was. God, what was it about this man that turned me into an irrational idiot? Did I care that he was stressed? That he’d missed lunch and worked way past clocking off time, something I knew he did when life was too heavy for him to handle?
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