Her brain was so tangled with emotion, she wasn’t sure what words would come out if she opened her mouth. In the past, she’d moved from kissing to sex easily, the distinction never feeling as important as it did now, the decision never weighing so heavily. Because this time, you have something to lose.
Just because she was scared to lose him though, didn’t mean she was ready to dismiss the possibility of more with him. So she rose from the sofa and reached for his hand. ‘Let’s go to bed.’
After shooting through the bathroom, taking time to inhale his aftershave in between peeing and rubbing toothpaste over her teeth with her finger, Mia eased off her leggings and snuck under the duvet. A few minutes later Luke joined her, slipping in behind and wrapping his arms around her. She felt cocooned in him, the warmth of his bare chest against her back, the citrus tang of his aftershave invading her senses.
‘Excuse Moby,’ he mumbled against her neck as she felt a tell-tale hardness pressing against her buttocks. ‘I’ve told him there won’t be any action, but he doesn’t always listen.’
She bit into her lip, trying not to laugh. ‘Moby? Oh, I get it, Moby because he was also a Dick.’
‘Yeah. And because he was also frigging huge.’
Laughter spluttered out of her, and along with it a feeling of utter contentment. He felt so good behind her. And yes, huge, he wasn’t wrong. Also hot, hard and the most incredible turn-on. Yet it also felt natural to be lying like this with him. No awkwardness, as there had been with other dates that had ended up in bed. Just warmth, pleasure – God, so much pleasure – and a real feeling of rightness.
With a deep, happy sigh, she drifted off to sleep.
Luke woke feeling almost unbearably aroused, his morning erection pressed firmly into the most delectable buttocks he’d ever been lucky enough to find himself lying next to.
But doing anything about it was strictly off the cards. He should move away, get up and get dressed. It was without doubt the sensible option, yet also the most ridiculous because who knew when or if he’d ever get the chance to cuddle Mia like this again? So instead he stayed where he was, relishing the ache until she started to stir.
‘Moby’s still not listening,’ he whispered. ‘But to be fair, he’s not used to waking up against such a gorgeous cushion.’
She turned, ruining his fun, though it was probably for the best. There was only so long he could torture himself before he exploded like an adolescent schoolboy.
‘Is that another of those romantic lines I should take a note of?’
Sleepy blue eyes blinked up at him and he felt something shift in his chest. Mia first thing in the morning was headed straight to the top of his list of favourite sights. ‘It is,’ he confirmed. ‘And if you want to hang around for breakfast, I can give you a few more.’
She glanced at his bedside clock and groaned. ‘It’s nine already. I should get going.’ Throwing off the duvet, she slipped out of the bed.
‘Hey, not so fast. At least let me make you a coffee.’ He scrambled out of bed and immediately felt the heat of Mia’s gaze on him.
‘Wow.’
She stared at his chest, and he wasn’t going to lie, he flexed his muscles, just a little, under her admiring look. ‘You’ve seen it all before.’
‘Yeah, but not this close.’ Her eyes grew impossibly wide, and he knew what she’d seen.
‘Want to have a closer look?’ He gave his eyebrows a comic waggle in an attempt to dial down the sexual tension because his dick was throbbing again.
Her gaze hadn’t strayed below his waist though. She walked towards him, eyes on the silver nipple piercing he’d had done when he was nineteen and out to prove something. ‘Did it hurt?’
‘Nah.’ She kept staring and he cleared his throat. ‘You can touch it, if you like.’
Her lips twitched. ‘Are we still talking about the piercing?’
God, he was in trouble here. ‘To be clear, I’d love your hands on all of me, but yeah, you can start with the piercing.’ Her fingers tentatively touched the ring and he hissed, the ache between his legs intensifying.
‘Why did you have it done?’
Ah. Embarrassed, he glanced away. That was one sure-fire way to cool his arousal. Ask him a searching question about his youth. ‘I thought the girls would like it.’
‘Is that why you work out with weights, too? To attract the opposite sex?’
Ouch. Now he sounded shallow, and maybe he was, but there was other stuff behind that decision. Stuff he didn’t want to tell her yet because it would further dent her opinion of him. ‘Is it working?’ he asked instead, forcing his mouth into a cocky smile.
She didn’t see it, because she seemed intent on watching her fingers as they trailed across his pecs and down to his abs. His muscles quivered as her touch left a burning trail of heat that went straight to the part of him that strained beneath his boxers. He was seconds from pleading with her to touch him there, when she snatched her hand away, as if suddenly aware of what she was doing.
That’s when her eyes landed on the side of his ribcage. The tattoo was small; most women didn’t notice it or if they did, they weren’t bothered enough to ask about it. He wanted Mia to ask, to show an interest in him, not just his body, even though he wasn’t ready to give her an answer.
But instead she turned away and picked up the small black handbag she’d left on the floor by the bed. ‘Thanks for the offer of coffee but I need to get back to my desk. I have this website I need to make.’
‘On a Sunday?’
‘This one is in my own time.’
Damn it. Guilt wormed through him as he realised whose website she was talking about. Yet even as he reached for her arm to stop her, to tell her to forget it, he’d bloody hire someone else to make the damn thing, he saw her guard come down, shutting him out. ‘Please don’t leave yet, not like this.’ He searched her face, trying to work out what was going on behind her gorgeous blue eyes. ‘What’s going on? You seem upset.’
Her eyes avoided his. ‘I’m not. I just need to get back to mine.’
Reluctantly he let go of her arm and grabbed his black jeans from where he’d discarded them on the floor, carefully easing the zip over his now fading erection. ‘Okay, I’ll see you out.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Your flat has the same layout as mine. I think I can find the front door.’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘Yeah, but you’ve forgotten there’s a beast out there. I don’t want you to come to any harm.’
The guard dropped, just a little, but whatever she was about to say in reply was halted by the sound of a female voice.
‘Luke, are you still in bed?’
His heart plummeted. Shit, what was she doing here?
‘It’s my neighbour,’ he muttered to Mia, yanking a clean T-shirt from the drawer and shoving it over his head. Her arrival was all he bloody needed. Already Mia was thinking God knows what about his tattoo, about his vain need to attract women…
‘Immaculate Woman has a key to your flat?’
‘Yeah, though she’s not supposed to use it,’ he added grimly.
‘Then why does she have one? Is it just to look after the place when you’re away, or…’ she trailed off, the unasked question clear in her eyes. Or is she another of the women you’ve been sleeping with?
‘It’s complicated, Mia.’ It was a crap answer, but now wasn’t the time to dump his past on her. Not when a big part of that past had just let herself into his flat.
Pulling the bedroom door open, he strode down the hallway to face the unwanted visitor.
Freya stood in the kitchen, and Luke almost smiled when he saw how she was, indeed, living up to Mia’s name for her. Even on a Sunday, Freya was carefully made up, her trousers neatly pressed, her top clearly designer. ‘What do you want?’
Her dark eyebrows shot up. ‘What sort of greeting is that?’
‘The sort of greeting you deserve when you use my key to enter my flat without my permission.�
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But Freya wasn’t listening now. Her focus was behind Luke. ‘I see you have a guest.’
The morning had held so much promise, he thought gloomily as he remembered how he’d woken up. Now it was heading downhill faster than a bloody bobsleigh on an icy track. ‘Freya, meet Mia who lives in the flats opposite.’ He turned and met Mia’s wary blue gaze. ‘Mia, meet my neighbour.’
Freya quirked a brow at him. ‘Neighbour? Is that all I get?’
He was not ready for this conversation. Neither, it seemed, was Mia.
‘Nice to meet you.’ She gave Freya a stiff smile before turning back to him. ‘I guess I’ll see you around.’
‘Keep an eye on my window.’
He smiled but she didn’t return it. Instead her expression remained uncertain, tense, and his worry about what she was thinking intensified.
Maybe he should have told her everything, his whole history, even if it did only serve to reinforce her opinion of him as some sort of Lothario. At least then he’d know she was damning him for what he had done, rather than whatever the heck her mind had made up.
Mia walked out and once the door had closed behind her, Freya spoke. ‘Keep an eye on your window?’
‘It’s nothing to do with you, Freya. Now tell me what was so important, you had to break into my flat?’
‘I hardly broke in.’ She gave him a cool look. ‘I just thought you’d like to know Grace’s flight has landed. I’m on my way to pick her up.’
‘Great, a phone call would have done, but thanks for letting me know.’
As he saw Freya out, a little of the misery of the morning melted away.
God, how he needed a dose of Grace’s irrepressible, sunny nature right now.
Chapter Twenty-Three
As Mia unlocked the door to her flat, Stan came out of his.
‘Morning.’ His eyes ran up and down her, no doubt taking in her unbrushed hair, her creased shirt. ‘Don’t normally see you up and about this early on a Sunday.’
‘No.’ Shit, was she blushing?
Stan’s face took on a broad, shit-eating grin. ‘Well I never. You’re not up and about early, you’re coming back late.’
Damn it. ‘I stayed over at a friend’s.’ A guy she’d slept in the same bed with, but who it turns out has a woman’s name tattooed on his rib, and a neighbour – a stunningly attractive neighbour – who thought nothing of letting herself into his flat. And if that wasn’t enough, he also has a hot-as-hell body and an intensely erotic nipple piercing, all so he can attract women. Why did she keep forgetting the reasons she’d decided not to get involved with him in the first place?
‘This friend, he wouldn’t happen to be male, would he?’
‘Maybe.’ Mia pushed open the door. ‘Well, it’s been good chatting, but I’ve got things I need to do.’ She’d not been lying about the website. She needed to crack on with it, especially now she knew how important expanding Luke’s business actually was.
‘The male friend of yours wouldn’t happen to own a bar,’ Stan continued, ignoring her. ‘And have a first name beginning with L?’
She glanced back at Stan, who looked at her all smug, like he’d unearthed a big, juicy secret. ‘Reckon you’ve got it all worked out, huh?’
‘It’s not hard, love. The pair of you have been … what was it you said before, dancing around each other like a couple of frisky peafowl?’ He chuckled delightedly at his own joke.
‘Ha ha. We’re mates, nothing more. We were gaming until the early hours so I crashed on his couch.’ Liar, you slept with his hot, hard erection nestled against your bum. And you loved it.
This time Stan’s chuckle turned into a loud guffaw. ‘You’re trying to tell me Luke Doyle had a woman stay overnight in his flat and didn’t get her into his bed?’
And bam, just like that, her sexy thoughts vanished, replaced by nastier ones; jealousy of those that had gone before her, shame that she’d fallen so easily for his charms, despite knowing better.
Yet the fact he hadn’t pushed, had seemed happy just to hold her, shouldn’t be forgotten. He was a player, but he was also a decent guy. It’s just he wasn’t one she’d ever be able to trust.
Stan looked expectantly at her, so she did what anyone would when backed into a corner. ‘Enough about me. How are things with you and Naomi? Have you summoned up the balls to ask her out yet?’
Yeah, that took the wind out of his sails. ‘Why would I do that?’
At his flustered expression, affection coiled through her. ‘Because you like her, you dolt. And she likes you.’
‘Happen we’re just friends.’ He gave her a sly glance. ‘Like you and Mr Doyle.’
She let out a bark of laughter. ‘Well played.’ Leaning against the doorframe, Mia gave Stan a sad smile. ‘What a pair we are, huh? Both too scared, for whatever reason, to grasp something that could potentially be so good.’
‘Aye. Could potentially explode in our faces too, mind.’
‘There is that.’ She eyed him curiously. ‘I know why I’m scared, but what’s stopping you?’
Stan glanced down his body, then looked back at Mia. ‘I’m a grumpy, overweight, boring old git.’
‘Says who?’
‘Says the last woman I asked out.’ He humphed. ‘She stuck with me for thirty-odd years, mind. Buggered off when I retired seven years ago.’ A cloud crossed his face. ‘Turns out she couldn’t carry on with her affairs when I was home all the time.’
‘Ouch, Stan. I’m sorry.’ She smiled sympathetically. ‘If it helps, she was only right about the overweight part.’
He eyed her dubiously. ‘You reckon I’m not grumpy?’
‘Maybe a little. But I also reckon you know exactly how to charm a woman when you want to.’ She gave his middle a gentle nudge. ‘So why don’t we work on that overweight part and see what happens?’
‘I’ll have to give up the custard donuts.’
The despondency in his tone made her smile. ‘I’m sure we can find another reason for you to go to the café. She does a mean skinny latte, and an excellent granola bar.’ Horror crossed his face, and Mia fell about laughing. ‘God, Stan, you’re so easy to wind up. You don’t need to give up everything you enjoy. Climb the stairs instead of taking the lift, don’t put sugar in your tea, go for a power walk every day.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Save the bacon butties for a weekend treat. That way I won’t be tortured by the smell of sizzling bacon every damn day.’
He gave her a sheepish grin. ‘I’ll think about it. What about you and the Chipmunk?’
She groaned. ‘That is not a good nickname.’
‘Doesn’t answer my question.’
Mia sighed. ‘Truthfully? I don’t know. I like him.’ Understatement of the year. Gorgeous, funny, sexy, kind – her heart had melted when he’d told her about Bill. ‘But I’m wary, Stan. I’ve had too many crap relationships to want to start one that, even from the outset, looks destined for failure.’
Stan shuffled on his feet. ‘What I said about him sleeping with all the single women in the block. It’s likely stuff and nonsense. Daft people with nothing else better to do, making up gossip.’
‘Good try, but I know it’s not all nonsense.’
‘A bloke can change, given the right incentive.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ But realistically, was she, a blue-haired, sloppy-clothed computer geek, incentive enough?
For the rest of the day Mia found it hard to concentrate. By six in the evening she was still thinking of Luke. Mostly of why she shouldn’t be thinking of him, yet was unable to stop.
Out of habit, she once again stared into his flat.
And that’s when she saw Luke and a woman in his weight room. Not Immaculate Woman this time. Someone dressed more casually, in jeans, her hair flowing freely over her shoulders. She couldn’t see her face, she was standing too far back, but she could see her point to where Mia knew he kept the sheets of paper. And from her body language, Mia knew she was laughing.
As Mia continued to watch a cold feeling of unease settled in the pit of her stomach. Shameful as it sounded, if she’d owned a pair of binoculars, she’d have used them. Who was this person he seemed so at ease with? Were they laughing because the idea of messaging across the flats was quaint? Cute even? Or were they laughing at how ridiculous it was that this person he knew, this supposed friend, refused to give him her number, so he had to resort to communication by taping sheets of paper into a window?
It had been nearly a week since Luke had seen Mia. He knew she’d left his flat upset and annoyed, and he could hardly blame her. Having spent most of Saturday night coming on to her, having slept with her in his arms, in his bed, he’d then shamefully not told her exactly who the woman was who’d brazenly walked into his flat.
Figuring it was best to give Mia breathing space, he’d not asked her out this week, settling instead for putting up a few messages she wouldn’t have to reply to. That way he could convince himself she was still talking to him.
Monday he’d messaged:
On the PS4 2nite
* * *
Honing my skills
Tuesday he’d messaged:
Getting better…
Wednesday he’d messaged:
I’m badass now.
* * *
Be afraid…
By Thursday the ache in his chest whenever he thought of her had become so acute, before he’d gone to bed he’d posted:
I miss U.
Now it was Friday night, and he was trudging wearily home. The bar had been steady, which was something, but Friday and weekends always were. It was during the week he desperately needed things to pick up.
His phone rang as he walked into his flat. At this hour, five before midnight, it could only be one person.
Mr Right Across the Street Page 18
