ROMANCE: Romantic Comedy: Love in 30 Days - The Best Plans Don't Always Work! (Plus 19 FREE Books Book 13)

by Jane Keeler

  He finally managed to catch hold of her, pulling her close to him and keeping her still so he could look into her face properly. “I like you. I’ve always liked you. Ever since that night when we danced and John claimed you for his own.”

  Shelley was gasping for breath, on the verge of crying but also of yelling again. “You don’t mean that,” she said again.

  “I mean it,” West said, seriously, so she could see he was telling the truth.

  “Prove it,” she said.

  There was a moment of silence hanging between them, as they both weighed up the situation, considering her challenge in the air. If it wasn’t for the alcohol, they most likely would both have thought it through further and quicker, and each pulled away. But the alcohol was there, and somehow their faces were so close to be almost touching.

  Their lips met, and it was hard to know who made the first move; then they were kissing, wildly, passionately, both of them claiming the affection they needed in the hot press of their mouths. She grabbed at his shirt and held tight to the front of his chest, as his arms slipped down around her waist to pull her even closer.

  The curtains in the room were still drawn – no light spilled out of the house onto the pavement, and no one would ever know. West slammed a hand on the wall to turn off the light, leaving them illuminated only by the glow leaking through from the hall. They were anonymous in the gloom; they were someone else. Shelley tugged at the bottom of his shirt and he leaned back to draw it off, leaving his muscular chest and arms bare. She ran her hands appreciatively over his torso, every ripple of taut muscle underneath his smooth skin.

  Then they were kissing again, and he was undoing the buttons on her black cardigan, pulling it hurriedly over her shoulders and tossing it away to the ground. She pushed him back towards the couch, reaching behind herself for the zip of her dress. He caught the fabric as it loosened around her shoulders, pulling it forward and then letting it drop to the floor around her ankles.

  She had a gorgeous body, and he had to pause for a second to appreciate it. Some dim part of his mind wondered whether she had bought the matching lingerie set for John’s benefit, worn it in his memory tonight. It no longer mattered. His body was on fire, burning to be closer to hers, and that was all he could pay attention to now.

  Her hands were at his waistline, fumbling with the button on his jeans, and he gently pushed them out of the way to finish the job himself. He kicked the discarded pants out of the way and went back to kissing her, cupping her chin with one hand while the other pulled her hips tight against his. He was hard already, not enough alcohol in his veins to deaden him, and he could feel her greedy fingers roaming his back in search of deeper contact.

  He dropped his face to her neck, kissing and nipping the skin there, then slid his hands up and under the underwire of her bra. He rolled her breasts in his hands, appreciating the feel and the size of them, gently squeezing and letting go. She moaned under his touch, reaching behind herself to unhook the unwanted bra and pull it away.

  They backed together and fell onto the couch, him on top of her, both groaning with anticipation of what was to come. He started to lick and suck her nipples, burying his face in her breasts, as her hand worked underneath the waistband of his boxer shorts to grasp hold of him firmly. He twitched in her hand, growling at the touch and only increasing the fervor with which he touched and kissed her.

  He moved back all of a sudden, and for a moment Shelley looked like she thought he had changed his mind; his expression reassured her otherwise, however, and it was only a pause of a moment before his hands were at her hips. He grasped the delicate sides of her lacy panties and swiftly yanked them out of the way, down and over the end of her feet to be left on the floor. She lay fully naked before him, and he drank in the sight for one more moment before giving the same treatment to his boxers.

  He sprang out, erect and strong, and she wanted him inside her more than she had wanted anything for a long time. It was more than desire, more than lust – it was need, burning powerfully inside both of them. He leaned over her to kiss her once again, just a small delay before giving in to what they both wanted so much. He pushed inside her, slowly at first as she gasped at the pressure, then finally resting inside her as deep as he could go.

  The rhythm that could not be denied took over, and they were both thrusting together, moving their hips in time and for the deepest possible connection. Everything else was gone – John, the memorial, their arguments, all of it. All that mattered was the raw heat between them that kept their bodies moving. They moaned together, as one, moving faster and faster. West shifted to lean back on his knees, grabbing Shelley by the hips and pushing her legs into the air so that he could push in deeper still.

  She cried out, animalistic and wild, as he pounded again and again in ways that felt so right. It was raw passion that moved them, and their bodies were soon dotted with sweat. Finally, Shelley could feel him growing tighter and harder inside of her as his thrusts intensified even further, until he cried out and shook and emptied his seed inside of her.

  Jerking involuntarily, their bodies cooled slowly as the need abated. After a few moments, almost reluctantly, West pulled all the way out and stood on shaky legs, looking down at Shelley. Her face was turned away, into the cushions of the couch, and for a moment he could not see why.

  Then, with horror, he realized that she had started to cry.

  Chapter 5

  West wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, unsure of what to do. Shelley slowly curled her body up, nestled onto the couch like a child. Finally, he started to gather up his clothes and dress himself, wondering whether he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

  He went to the door, but on his lips he could still feel the taste and the pressure of hers. He paused with one hand on the handle, then swore under his breath and went back to the lounge. She was still lying there, crying almost silently.

  He rushed to her side and knelt down, pulling her towards him. Almost to his surprise, she eagerly rolled his way, burying her face in his chest and his embrace.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, and he stroked her hair, trying to shush her. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s alright,” he whispered, but it was not West she was apologizing to.

  “I’m sorry, John,” she cried, and he gripped her all the harder.

  He ended up staying the night, helping her to bed and falling asleep in a cushioned chair in the bedroom, watching her toss and turn in her dreams. She woke a few times in the night, and he was there to stroke her hair and stop her crying again.

  In the morning, West woke to find the bed empty, Shelley gone. He looked for her in the kitchen and found breakfast waiting for him, bacon and eggs prepared as the perfect antidote to a headache that pounded between his ears. She was already eating hers, swathed in her satin robe again and almost unable to meet his eyes.

  “Last night,” he said, once the breakfast had been eaten in silence.

  “Don’t,” Shelley whispered, then sighed. She knew as well as he did that they both needed to talk about it. “I can’t believe we let it happen.”

  “We both had a lot to drink,” West offered, placing his palms flat on the table in front of him.

  “Don’t try to explain it away,” she cut in, closing her eyes and shuddering. “Don’t make an excuse. It was real and it happened and I think we both want it to happen again.”

  There was a pause; West studied his hands very closely, looking at the scar on the back of his left thumb from the time he and John had decided it was a good idea to try and hitch a ride on the back of a lorry on skateboards.

  He cleared his throat. “You’re right,” he said.

  “But I can’t do this, West,” she said. “I need you to leave and stay with your family. I need you to let me alone to deal with this. I can’t wait here for you like I waited for John.”

  West noted that his fingernails could probably benefit from being clipped a little, and dre
w his hands off the table to hide them. “I need to know that you’ll have someone looking out for you.”

  “I’ll call my sister,” Shelley said. “Admit to her that I need help for a while. She’ll get me back on my feet.”

  West nodded slowly. Their eyes hadn’t met all morning. Maybe it was easier that way. “Are you afraid of betraying John?” he asked, though his best judgement would have been to get up and go in silence.

  “No,” she said, sniffling over her plate. “We’ve already done that.”

  West let the weight of those words sink in, feeling them ache in his heart. “Then what?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid of falling in love with another man who will die in combat,” she said, and abruptly got up. She walked out of the kitchen without another word. West heard her heading up the stairs, and figured it was probably best for both of them if he left instead of following her.

  West went home, showered and changed, and tried to avoid his parents’ well-meaning but obvious questions about where he had been all night. He went out to the bar down the road and sat on his own in a corner booth, hoping that no one would try to talk to him.

  For a while, it worked. He was not really interested in having a drink; the point was to be alone with his thoughts, to try and clear up everything that had happened between them. He wanted to kick something really hard. Most of all, he wanted there to be a way that all of this could turn out alright.

  Days and nights passed, but still West could do nothing but think about Shelley. The touch of her lips had been maddening, the feel of her body a memory that left him sweating in his dreams. He wanted to see her again, to talk with her at least. Maybe if they sorted all of this out, it would be alright again. Maybe he could forget about her if they put the whole situation to bed.

  Finally, he plucked up his courage, around a week after the last time he had seen her. West dressed smartly, trying not to overthink it, and went over to the house.

  He knocked on the door with his heart in his throat, and stood there waiting. For an awful moment he thought that she might not answer the door at all. The image of John’s grave flashed up in his mind without him calling it, and the look on his friend’s face after he had been shot. He was almost about to turn around and go home again when the door opened.

  Shelley looked good. She had clean and tidy hair, tucked behind one of her ears the way she always used to wear it. Her clothes were neat and fit her well, and her skin was clear. Even the bags under her eyes were almost gone. She looked him up and down with an expression almost of resignation, as if she had always expected him to be there.

  “Well,” she said, stepping to one side. “I guess you’d better come in.”

  Chapter 6

  They sat down at the table in the kitchen, a steaming cup of coffee each cradled in their hands. The room was clean and fresh, and when Shelley opened the cupboards to get the coffee jar down West had seen that they were stocked with food.

  “Your sister helped you out a lot,” he noted, looking around.

  Shelley hesitated. “I never called my sister,” she admitted. “I just… kept pretending I couldn’t look after myself so you’d keep coming round.”

  West moved his coffee cup around on the table, scraping the bottom across the wood. “You could have just told me,” he said.

  “Told you what?” she asked. There were tears in her eyes again. “Told you that I think I’m falling for the best friend of my dead husband not a month after he’s been put in the ground?”

  West shifted in his seat and placed his hand over hers. “Don’t say it like that,” he said.

  “Why?” she burst out. “That’s how it is! John’s funeral was a month ago and we’re sitting here like – like… Oh god, in his own home…”

  West shook his head vehemently. “It’s not like that. You know it’s not. John sent me to look after you. And you know things between us have a long history.”

  “What are people going to say?” Shelley asked, not seeming to hear his last words.

  “They won’t say anything,” West said firmly, gripping her hand tightly. “Look. It’s like this. We’re two friends both grieving over someone we loved. But we’ve been friends a long time, and things happen when you’re that way. Do you think John wanted us to spend the rest of our lives miserable?”

  “No,” Shelley sniffed, starting to come around to his point.

  “You and I are the only people who really knew him,” West said. “The people who loved him most. Hell, I was closer to him than my own sister. He was my brother in everything but blood.”

  “But you don’t up and sleep with your brother’s wife after he’s dead,” Shelley shook her head, inconsolable. “What we’re doing is wrong.”

  “It’s not wrong,” West insisted. “It’s just fast. We need to take some time to let things settle down. I’m going away again soon, anyway. We need to take the time to see how things pan out by themselves.”

  Shelley considered this for a while, mulling it over in her head. “How long do you have?” she asked.

  “Not long,” he sighed. “But I think that might be for the best. Maybe it’ll give us both some time to cool our heads. Now I know you’ll be able to look after yourself without me, I’ll find it easier.”

  “I really can,” she affirmed, tucking her hair back behind her ear where it had fallen forward. “It’s hard to know that John is gone forever. But I spent a lot of time here on my own while he was away. I’ll just go on living, the same as before. The only difference is I’m not waiting for him to come back.”

  West nodded, and then gave a short laugh. “To be honest, you’re probably going to cope better than me,” he said, smiling wryly. “I don’t know how I’m going to do it without him at my back. As much as I trust the other guys in the troop, I’d never be able to rely on them the way I did on him.”

  Shelley smiled back. “You’re right, what you said,” she said. “We’re the only two people who really knew how wonderful he was.”

  West paused, and said quietly, “That’s why I didn’t put up a fight when he said he wanted you, back then. I thought he’d be the better man for you.”

  “You were right,” Shelley said, and squeezed his hand to show she didn’t mean it as an insult. “But he’s gone now, and the two of us have to figure out a way to go on living all the same.”

  West spent a couple of brief weeks at home, visiting Shelley every few days and trying to find a way for their lives to intersect that wasn’t painful or too emotionally charged. It was difficult, but what they had to do was get to know each other again. Not as John’s Wife and John’s Best Friend, but as themselves, with John taken out of the equation entirely. It was certainly not the kind of thing that would ever be easy, or done in a short space of time, but it was a start.

  Then it was time for him to leave. With his family around him at the airfield once again, West felt a strange mixture of emotions. He felt blessed to have people he loved and who loved him, and to have a job that he was good at. He also felt afraid of what it was going to be like without John. For the first time, he was even unsure of whether he was going to come back or not. Death was a given in his line of work – it was just that until now, he had always associated that death with anyone else but him.

  He got on the plane and looked out of the window. He touched the dog tags around his neck, and thought about the ones he had carried this way a short time ago. They were hanging up from a peg in Shelley’s kitchen now, a memory of a man who was always going to be better than he could ever be. At least from now on, he might just have a reason to try.

  Chapter 7

  West stood on the doorstep, expectantly waiting for a response to his knock. A flurry of footsteps inside let him know that the excitement he felt was not his alone, and the door opened before he had barely had time to take a breath.

  Shelley was there, beautiful in a white cotton dress and with her hair cut in a new style. She looked fresh and clean, and healthy. S
he was everything he had been dreaming about and more.

  They were both breathless, cheeks rosy with excitement, as he came inside the door and walked through to the lounge with her. It was a bright and airy space now, the curtains open to let in the light that had been missing before. West could see that she was healing. He was glad – and not just for his own sake. For the sake of John, who would have always wanted the woman he loved to be happy, whether he was around or not.

  “I’ve missed you,” West admitted, as they sat with a glass of wine on the couch.

  “Me, too,” Shelley said, biting back a shy smile. “I’m glad that you came back in one piece.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d still be thinking of me,” West said. “Six months is a long time.”

  “I didn’t stop,” Shelley told him.

  “Me, either,” he said, putting his wine down on the table.

  She looked at him for a moment, and they both knew that they understood all that needed to be understood – had said all that needed to be said. Shelley nodded, and he nodded back.

  “I think it’s what John would have wanted, in the end,” she said.

  “You’re probably right,” West nodded.

  They looked at each other for a moment longer, exploring the truth in that statement, and then Shelley leaned forward to kiss him. He kissed her back, and without missing a heartbeat, the passion that had taken ahold of them before was back. They wanted each other, badly – this time without the anger that had threatened to overwhelm everything. This time it was only the desire and love for each other, and mixed alongside it, the determination to honor John’s memory the only way they really knew how.

  Just as before, they pulled at each other’s clothes, tossing them to the floor. They moved up the stairs, kissing and touching one another, scattering things behind them. West’s shirt was flung onto the couch, his belt abandoned in the doorway. Shelley’s dress fell to the hall, and West’s jeans untangled from his legs before they started on the stairs.