by Zoe York
“Love you, baby,” he whispered into her damp skin.
She kissed his shoulder. “Right back atcha.”
***
The Millers’ hosted a going away barbeque on the beach across the road from their house three nights later. Paul was surprised at how many people went out of their way to greet him, and offer him casseroles while Karen was away. He refrained from pointing out that he’d been cooking for himself for twenty years, and casseroles weren’t really his thing. He figured he might be able to pass them on to Evie Calhoun, who was doing a decent job of hiding her secret, but wouldn’t be able to for much longer. He wondered if Karen knew, and if he should have told her. Not his story to share, though. From the constant vigil Liam McIntosh was keeping over the pretty blond, albeit from afar, it looked like Evie wasn’t completely alone in her journey. And when the town found out…Paul knew that despite the quiet and sometimes conservative nature of the community, when one of their own was in need, they’d band together.
When he found Karen, a little way down the shore, skipping stones with Megan, he paused and just watched. His women. And Megan was rapidly turning into a woman. They’d celebrated her eleventh birthday the week before, in the city. Karen had tried to beg off, but Susan had called her and the next thing he knew, they were all at the restaurant having a decent time together. Would wonders never cease.
“Come on, we should get back,” he heard Karen call, and he felt the moment that she saw him as they turned to come back. The weight of the air between them lifted for a second, as if pushed outward by the force of her smile, and she picked up the pace a bit, tugging Megan along with her.
“You guys hungry?” he asked as they neared. “Rumour has it they’ve got full-fat sausages on the grill.”
“Are you calculating in your head how many extra miles you’d have to run to make them worthwhile?” Karen laughed, and reached for his hand, linking his family together. On the other side of her, Megan started a monologue about the awesomeness of mustard. The way she sold it, he was convinced.
***
She could hear the phone ringing. Fudgesicle. The keys slipped through her fingers. Too many deadbolts between her and Paul’s voice. Back home, she rarely locked her doors; here, she locked them twice just to go to the basement to do laundry. Once inside, it only took three steps to reach her cell on the bedside table. Studio apartments had some advantages. She rang him back, and he answered immediately.
“Baby.” The grin was infectious, even hundreds of kilometers away.
“You rang?”
“I missed you.”
“Sorry I’m not coming home this weekend.”
“Nope, don’t be sorry. You got school work to do, I’ve got speeding tickets to write.”
It was their first weekend apart since she’d moved. And surprisingly, she didn’t feel conflicted about it. Miss him, yes. But she had a group project to do, and needed to stay in the city. And his total support made all the difference. Laney had been right on that score.
“Are you going out tonight with your young and single classmates?”
“Nope. I’ve got a hot date planned later, though. I’m going sit on the dryer and read a chapter on metadata principles.” He laughed gently in her ear and she sank back into her pillows. “I bet if you were here, you could help me study.”
“Absolutely. Give me a definition.”
“Metadata is data that describes data. In other words, it’s what we know about stuff.”
“Tags and keywords?”
“You’ve been paying attention.”
“I try. So the noises you make during sex that tell me you like what I’m doing?”
She knew where this was going, and flipped open the top button of her jeans. “Mmm-hmmm.”
“Yeah, like that.” He groaned, and she was reminded of the first time they had phone sex. They’d come so far in a few short months.
“Are you touching yourself?” she whispered.
“Hell, yes.”
“Tell me about it.”
“You first.”
“No, you…”
Her laundry sat for a while before she made it back to the basement.
***
“Baby, you home?”
Her car was parked at the curb, so he knew she was, but he never tired of asking that question.
They’d had five weekends at home like this, one trip to the city, which Megan had loved, and a couple of missed visits between work and school. A comfortable routine had formed, but this weekend was going to be special.
“In the kitchen.”
He followed her voice. “You parked on the street.”
“I need to run to the liquor store and pick up a bottle of wine.”
“I’ll go back out if you want.” She was chopping vegetables at the counter. His beautiful woman, in his kitchen. Her long legs were covered in denim appropriate for the cooler autumn weather, but the jeans fit snug across her curvy bottom and her fitted t-shirt showed off the nip of her waist and he could imagine how good her—
“You just going to stare at me all afternoon? Come and give me a kiss, mister. I’ve missed you.” She glanced over her shoulder at him and laughed as he covered the space between them before she finished talking. She went back to chopping and he settled in behind her, legs spread wide, arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder.
“You get your paper done?”
“Mmm-hmm. Only have a bit of reading to do this weekend.”
“Good, you can do it in bed.” It was their first weekend together without Megan, and he was going to soak up as much naked Karen time as he could manage.
“I look forward to it.” She set the knife on the counter and elbowed him gently, wanting him out of the way. He grudgingly shifted so she could carry the cutting board to the stove and deposit the chopped carrots and parsnips into what looked like a stew.
“Does that have to simmer for a while?” He couldn’t help the hopeful tone in his voice. Didn’t really want to, either.
“Mmm-hmm.” Karen gave it one last stir and headed for the stairs without looking back at him. She knew he’d follow.
She took her jeans off at the top of the stairs. He’d stop and pick them up. Probably fold them, too. To slow him down even further, she looped her shirt over the bannister. In their room, which now housed two tall wardrobes stuffed to the gills with her clothes, she quickly swapped out her bra and underwear for the silk negligee she’d picked up on Bloor Street. She’d been planning to bring it out later that night, but no time like the present—
The door swung open as she was arranging herself on the bed.
“Hi,” she breathed.
His heated gaze took her in. All of her. And got even more heated. “That’s pretty.”
Gotcha. “I splurged a little.”
“I approve.” He stripped off his t-shirt and jeans, and her pussy pulsed at the realization that he’d gone commando. Naked and very turned on, her man approached the bed. “You look like an early Christmas present.”
She toyed with the ribbon that laced up the front of her torso. “Feel free to unwrap me.”
He hovered above her, tracing his fingers across her cheek, down her neck and along the strap of her chemise before tugging, ever so slowly, at the bow she’d offered him. As the lacing loosened, he peeled open the silk, groaning as her erect nipples popped into view. “I miss you during the week,” he said, burying his face in her chest.
“Are you talking to me, or them?” She giggled as he surged up to kiss her and scowl.
“Both. Don’t ruin this moment I’m having with them.” He kissed her again, this time more deeply, reassuring her that he missed every part of her body and mind while she was gone, and while his tongue did its magic, his hands went to work doing theirs, stroking and teasing her body. Somewhere in there, the silk nothing disappeared into actual nothing, and then he was spooning her, ready to enter her from behind.
“Wait!” she gasped. “Are yo
u sure?”
He groaned hard into her hair. “Seriously?”
She swiveled her hips, teasing his swollen head. “No, I mean, I’m sure. I just wanted to check that you…”
He thrust into her, making her gasp again, then moan, as he splayed one hand across her stomach and used the other to fist her hair out of the way. “We talked about this, darlin’. No reason to wait.” He moved his hips slowly, pushing deep inside, pulling back just a bit, then surging forward to make contact with her cervix again. “Unless you don’t want me to come inside you.”
She did. Oh god, she really did. “Please…”
Pushing back, she urged him to pick up the pace, and he did, which set off a chain reaction of physical sensations that ended with what felt like fireworks going off in her brain, her breasts, her sex and every other part of her body all at the same time. As the rest of her being trembled and collapsed, her heart sighed with content.
Behind her, Paul shuddered with an aftershock of his own. “Wow,” he said quietly.
“That was worth the hundred dollars I spent on the lingerie, eh?” She sighed.
“That was worth a heck of a lot more than that.” He paused. “Except if we’re going to have another mouth to feed, maybe not.”
She twisted away, stretching out on her stomach, and offered him a languid smile. “It might not take the first time. I only stopped taking the pills this cycle.”
“Then we’ll keep practicing.” He tugged the blanket over her naked body. “You have a catnap, I’ll run out for that wine.”
THE END
Dear Reader,
Want more Wardham?
Read Evie Calhoun and Liam McIntosh’s story in When They Weren’t Looking, the next full-length novel in The Wardham Series ~ available now for your Kindle! An excerpt is shared below.
Thank you for reading this Wardham bundle. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review where you bought it so other readers can discover it as well. I have a mailing list that I use to give readers a heads-up about new releases (like my upcoming novella, Beyond Love and Hate, or my new Camo Cay series!) and big sales. If you sign up, you’ll also be given an opportunity to read new releases before they hit stores!
—Zoe
An Excerpt from
When They Weren’t Looking
The Wardham Series
Book No. 3
The only thing that would make Evie Calhoun’s weekend away in the city better would be an orgasm or two. In an ideal world, served up on a platter by a pool boy or a lumberjack.
But even though that wasn’t going to happen, she couldn’t keep a smile off her face. It had been a near-perfect day, and now she was walking back to her hotel after witnessing a world-class dance performance. A gorgeous lake on one side of her and the city on the other. The sun, setting behind her in the west, lit up the glass towers of Toronto’s central business district and what might be an everyday view for others struck her as magical and sophisticated.
No wonder the condos advertised along Lakeshore Drive were so expensive—it was the best of both worlds in one perfect location. Man, what an exciting place to call home.
Evie never would, of course, but she could pretend for a night or two. Her mother had surprised her with a much needed break. Away from Wardham, and her ex-husband, and even her much-loved life with her boys.
Claire Calhoun had given her daughter a train ticket to the city and five hundred dollars, with an order that none of it was to be spent on anything even remotely like a bill or clothes for the kids. Evie was to spoil herself.
And she had: conveyor-belt sushi for dinner the night before, a gorgeous room at the Westin Harbour Castle hotel, a few splurges at Sephora and Victoria’s Secret this afternoon, and a front row ticket to see The Mitchell Raz Collective at the Harbourfront Centre.
In another life, Evie might have moved to the city and auditioned for similar companies. Shared a flat uptown with three other girls and bartended all night so she’d be free to dance during the day. But she’d been scared of the odds against her, and her few visits to the city to see Evan in those halcyon early days after graduation had left her underwhelmed. Loud, expensive, dirty. Wardham, with its sleepy beach and zero competition for anything was the more comfortable choice.
And she wouldn’t do it any differently, given the chance, because whatever other costs her choices had, she had two beautiful sons who made her world right. Her family, for all the bumps and bruises it had sustained over the last two years, was a wonderful unit. Connor was rapidly turning into a young man, careful and studious, but always staying on the cute side of bossy. Max, two years younger, had finally figured out how to stick a punch-line and used it to maximum advantage in his natural calling as an entertainer. His teacher danced around the term class clown, but grade one had been a hard transition for him, and she expected more of the same in the fall.
But Evie… Somewhere in the mix, she’d let herself be compressed to mother, community member, daughter, and sister. All good, but all giving. This was the first time in years she’d allowed herself to truly indulge. Sleeping in, shopping, dance. She’d joked with her girlfriends about adding sex into the mix, but the closest to that she was going to get this weekend was being able to spread out on the hotel bed and read an erotic romance novel without worrying about hiding it from prying eyes.
Sex.
It had been so long, she might actually have forgotten how to do it.
Two years since she and Dale last made love, although there hadn’t been much love in that coupling. Or the infrequent times in the year before that. No love, and even less passion.
Deep down, she yearned for that passion. If she was being honest with herself, what she really wanted was an awesome romp. With someone who didn’t lose their erection if she moved in the wrong direction. Someone who wanted her for who she was right now, stretch marks and old lady hands included. Who didn’t have a pathetic Madonna/whore complex.
A flash of anger at her ex-husband pulsed through her. She glanced down at her bare fingers, glad to be rid of the rings that hadn’t guaranteed the forever they were supposed to.
But she was thirty-five, and a mother, and it had been fifteen years since she’d last had sex for sex’s sake. She wouldn’t even know where to start in the city, and the thought of actually picking up a stranger…that was an awesome fantasy, and a terrifying reality.
A hot bath and a blush-inducing book would have to be enough.
But first, a drink. Maybe two, because she could sleep in tomorrow.
The hotel bar was empty, but the friendly bartender gestured for her to take a seat. “What can I get you?”
“Something fancy.” Wardham’s only bar, Danny’s, was known for cheap beer and straight shots.
“Do you like peaches?” She nodded, and he began assembling a bellini in front of her. She slid some cash toward him when he finished, and after taking a sip, let her thoughts wander down an imaginary path. If she had come to the city to be a dancer, what would she be doing now? Choreography? Married or single? Still on the audition circuit?
She nursed her drink, lost in a tangled web of what-ifs, and was just about to head upstairs when the bartender placed another bellini in front of her. She shook her head. “Oh, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“It’s from the man in the corner,” he said.
Evie twisted in her seat to see where he was pointing. Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze collided with dark, unvarnished interest. There were six of them, four men and two women, all in suits, but only one was staring at her like he wanted to eat her up. And as heat sparked in various places throughout her body, being devoured by a perfect stranger suddenly sounded like an excellent idea. Hot damn…
No. What kind of hussy would that make her?
A satisfied one, probably, if he could deliver on the promise in his eyes.
She smiled, enjoying the moment of attention, and nodded her head in thanks. A warm blush crawled up her neck and s
he spun back to the bar, but a minute later she glanced back over her shoulder. There was something unbelievably tempting about the man. Long and lean, with dark hair and refined features. Quietly handsome, but overtly sexy. Urbane and sophisticated, like he wouldn’t blink to discover her Brazilian bikini wax. Like he’d understand the implicit request of it, and dive in for a feast.
It didn’t take him long to make his way over to her.
“Can I join you?” His voice was rich and warm with a shiver-inducing edge, like chocolate syrup on vanilla ice cream. Up close he was younger than she first thought. Definitely younger than her, and not just by a few months.
“I suppose it’s the least I can do, since you bought me a drink.” She glanced up at him from under her eye lashes. God, she had no clue how to flirt. She didn’t want to lead him on, but every fibre of her being wanted him to keep talking.
Instead of sitting, he leaned sideways against the bar. “That’s not a ringing invitation, but I’ll take it.” He flashed a crooked smile, the left side of his face curling up in a wink, and butterflies took flight from the pit of her stomach.
“I’m out of practice, I promise it’s not personal. I’m Evie.” She held out her hand, and something bright sparked in his eyes. Everything around them faded to nothing as he wrapped his hand around hers and she swallowed hard against something that felt suspiciously like a giggle trying to fly out of her mouth.
“Liam.” Another smile, and her panties started peeling themselves down her hips. “And I don’t have a ton of practice at this either.”
“I find that really hard to believe,” she admitted, kicking herself momentarily for the honesty, but he just chuckled.
“Where are you from?”
