Whose Bed Is It Anyway?

by Natalie Anderson

  They’d played together. Sometimes he and George had ganged up and played tricks. Other times the team would change and it’d be him and Louis against George and Jack. Looking back now he knew Louis had hero worshipped him a bit. Had been closer to him than the others.

  ‘We were spoilt. We had everything. We were expected to be able to do everything. But sometimes kids don’t make sensible decisions.’ He let the waves wash over his feet. ‘I thought I was invincible.’

  She walked near him, her feet splashing softly. But she said nothing.

  ‘We’d gone on a holiday to the Caribbean. A real “holiday” as opposed to serious “travelling”. I was sixteen, living the life with all the toys. Yachts, jet skis...’ It had been a playground for the rich and powerful and he’d been such an idiot. ‘I told Louis I could handle it. I made him come out with me. Even though he didn’t really want to. But I was filled with it—showing off. All arrogance.’ He bent his head. ‘I lost control of the jet ski, we flipped. Pete came out to help us. But he drowned saving the both of us.’ James would never forget that horror as long as he lived. ‘Louis lost his father and it was my fault.’

  ‘What happened to Louis?’

  ‘He’d lost his father.’ James looked down. ‘And he lost his way. Over the next few years it got worse and worse. He went off the rails, right into a fast, dangerous lifestyle.’ The bright-eyed kid with the wide smile had become a pale, pimpled wreck of a youth with vapid eyes and the shakes. James’ parents had tried. They’d all tried. But no amount of intervention was able to stop that downward spiral. ‘In the end he died of an overdose.’

  ‘Oh, James.’

  ‘They said it was accidental.’ He pressed his lips together.

  James’ guilt had grown. He’d gone the opposite way to Louis—pouring himself into his studies. Being perfect. Keeping himself so buried in textbooks and training there was no room for any other mistakes of that kind. He sobered up. Straightened out. Taking nothing for granted again. He’d made little time for fun. Yes he’d done the travel thing—the component required of all Wolves—but he’d done it tougher and with purpose. He’d chosen to study abroad and in his study, his work, he’d found salvation.

  But at the end of the day, he’d been the cause of not one, but two people’s deaths. Responsible for the devastation of a family. ‘Pete had been a hero. He’d rescued us. I have to make something more of my life. He gave his life up for us. And then seeing Louis fall like that?’

  ‘Louis might have gone off the rails even if the accident hadn’t happened,’ Caitlin said quietly. ‘Even if his father had been around, it still might have happened. It happens in other families.’

  James frowned. ‘No. You should have seen how it hurt him.’ He bent his head. ‘I owe them. And I owe it to myself to make something more of my life.’

  ‘That’s fair enough. I can understand that.’ She stopped walking. ‘But not at the cost of your own happiness.’

  ‘I’m not unhappy,’ he denied, looking sharply at her. ‘I love my work.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But you’ve cut yourself off from your family.’

  ‘I haven’t.’ Only a very little.

  ‘No?’ She grasped his arm when he went to turn away. ‘You have limited interaction with them. With all relationships. You only have a woman when you can get it on a “firm boundaries” basis. And then you work. You put yourself at risk for others—for strangers—all of the rest of the time.’

  ‘I like being busy.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘I know I made mistakes in the past. I can’t ever change what happened. But I accept what I did and I’ve moved on.’ He sighed. ‘The only problem now is that my mother cries when I leave. I think it’s easier on her not to visit.’

  Caitlin vehemently shook her head. ‘She’s your mother. That’s the way it’s going to be. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she saw you more often. You can’t stop your family loving you. Any more than you can stop loving them.’ She stared up at him. ‘Don’t deny them the pleasure of having your company. Don’t deny yourself. You still deserve to have a nice time, James. It’s okay to take a holiday.’

  ‘You care about me having a nice time?’ he asked quietly.

  Her alarm bells rang at the searching quality in his eyes. Because she did care—too much to be able to admit to herself, let alone to him. So she stepped back, hiding in the tease talk. ‘Yeah, well, I find you perform better in bed when you’re in a good mood.’

  He burst out laughing. ‘Shoot me down, why don’t you, right when I’ve poured out my soul.’

  It was because he had poured out his soul that she’d joked again. Because she knew he didn’t like feeling vulnerable. And nor did she. Because she knew this thing between them couldn’t go any further than it had already. ‘I aim to please.’

  ‘Actually—’ he traced a finger down her jaw ‘—I think you do.’ He added, ‘I don’t think you’re all that bad at all.’

  ‘Just misunderstood?’ she drawled softly, trying to keep up the carelessness of her banter.

  ‘Yes,’ he answered, quite seriously. ‘Misunderstood. Lonely. Lovely.’

  She shook her head, tried to turn the conversation back on him. ‘How come this never came up in any of those articles about you?’

  ‘It was kept quiet.’ His lips twisted and he cupped her face with a gentle hand. ‘Ironic, isn’t it, that you’re accused of all kinds of things in the press that aren’t true, while the truth about what an idiot I was has never been reported. It doesn’t seem fair.’

  ‘Life isn’t fair.’ Caitlin tilted her chin free of his hold. ‘We all know that.’

  She turned and walked back along the edge of the water. ‘So where’s Aimee now?’

  ‘She set up her own bakery. She’s an amazing cook.’

  ‘And it’s doing well?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Good for her,’ Caitlin said softly.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Three hours later Caitlin was still mulling over what he’d told her. They’d spent the afternoon in a mini badminton tournament. She’d never played badminton before and had no idea she was so crap at it. But all the Wolfe boys were brilliant—and gallantly took turns teaming up with her, all still determined to beat their brothers despite having her handicap them. They’d made her laugh. Made her feel welcome.

  Made her feel liked.

  George flirted with her incessantly, Jack more intermittently. But it was the look in James’ eyes that brought the colour to her cheeks. It wasn’t lust.

  She didn’t know what it was.

  * * *

  ‘Come on, Caitlin.’ George stood after the dinner plates had been cleared. ‘Jack, James and I will show you some local nightlife.’

  ‘We will?’ Jack glanced up.

  Irene laughed. ‘Go on, then.’

  ‘Um.’ Caitlin avoided looking at James. She was sure he wouldn’t want to. She sensed the restless energy in him. ‘I really don’t—’

  ‘Yes, you do. Let’s go.’ James turned a brilliant smile on her.

  Now she really wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Because that smile had an edge. For all the intimacy they’d had earlier—the part of his history he’d shared—he seemed in a more mercurial mood than ever. More edgy and unsatisfied.

  The second they got to the lively bar James left his brothers to order drinks and gripped Caitlin’s hand, leading her to the middle of the dance floor and pulling her indecently close.

  ‘What happened to no PDA?’ Caitlin gasped, breathless at the predatory expression in his eye.

  ‘Hmm?’ James answered vaguely, too busy staring at her cleavage.

  She tugged at the top of her dress. ‘Stop it. Your thoughts are written all over your face.’

  ‘They are?’ He looked up, his eyes almost b
lack. ‘Read them.’

  He still thought he could win a dare with her?

  She thought of the most explicit, crudest thing she could. Then found the courage to whisper it aloud in his ear.

  His jaw dropped. Then he laughed. ‘Damn, you’re a vixen.’

  She lifted her brows. ‘You can be as naughty as you like with me. As bad as you get.’

  His eyes glinted. ‘That’s what you really want?’

  ‘It always has been.’

  He tugged a swathe of her hair, so she tilted her head back. His words brushed over her lips. ‘You act all sexy, demanding siren. But the thing is...’ he leaned close ‘...that I know you’d let me do that and more. You might have been provoking, but there’s a part of you that wants exactly that. You like it when I can’t control myself.’

  Well, that was true.

  ‘A tease must be prepared to take the same,’ he warned.

  He’d broken her control time and time again already. And he knew it. But now he kept a firm grasp on her hair and kissed her.

  ‘I thought we were keeping this under wraps,’ she squeaked when he lifted his head. Hell, no one would be left in any doubt as to how well they knew each other if they’d seen that kiss.

  ‘That was until you thought you could say something like that to me out in public. You thought wrong.’ He slid his open palm all the way up her stomach, lifting higher to pluck her taut nipple.

  ‘What are you doing?’ She gasped.

  ‘Turning you on.’

  He already knew she was on.

  ‘Here? Now?’ In public?

  ‘Absolutely. It’s your punishment.’

  It didn’t feel much like a punishment.

  In the crowded club, the music thumped. In no way were they the only couple doing the bump and grind. It looked like dancing. It was dancing. Except he was expertly rubbing her just the way he knew she liked to be rubbed. And in less than thirty seconds she was hurtling to the place only he could send her.

  She stumbled. His grip tightened.

  Heat enveloped her. Her mind a haze. She no longer cared about who could see them. What his family or anyone else would think. She was with James. He was all that mattered. And she was burning up for him. He knew it. She saw the smile and satisfaction in his eyes—the blind, glazed look of escape into physical pleasure. All that did was stoke her higher. She wanted him to be happy. She wanted to give him the relief that he brought her.

  ‘Take me home,’ she begged.

  He kissed her. Bending her back so she had to cling to him, pushing her hips right into his, thrusting his hungry tongue deep into her mouth.

  His eyes glittered as he lifted his head and looked down at her. ‘Yes.’

  James didn’t care what Jack or George or anyone thought as he walked out of the club with Caitlin clamped to his side. But Jack, true brother that he was, didn’t ask, he just walked with them outside, flagged a cab and held the door open.

  ‘George and I’ll come home later.’ He closed it on them.

  In the cab, James turned towards Caitlin, needing her kiss more than he needed air. His thoughts went chaotic as she kissed him back. This was crazy. He knew this was crazy. But he needed her more than he’d ever needed any woman. He ached to find release in her arms. Since he’d told her about Louis and Pete this morning, the need had burned even more out of control.

  He’d seen people thrown together in drastic circumstances, who’d believed they’d forged a relationship so strong nothing could ever break it. But things did. Ordinary life did.

  This thing with Caitlin was too soon. Too built on sex. It was nothing more than an affair—like a schoolboy crush. His inability to think of anything other than her was symptomatic of that. A fixation that wouldn’t stand the test of time. It would fade. He couldn’t believe in it, couldn’t start to dream of all the things he’d long ago sworn to deny himself.

  But there wasn’t just lust in her eyes. Not only lascivious hunger. There was tease, yes, but also tenderness. Passion, but also patience. She was generous and gentle.

  He held her hand tightly as he walked through the quiet, dark house, taking her to his bedroom. She belonged in his bed.

  Her skin glowed, her shoulders creamy and smooth. She bared herself, touching him, offering herself—for him to use her as he wanted. He didn’t want to use her. Didn’t want to take up the dare she’d made on the dance floor. Because he wanted to touch her too, wanted to see her smile. Wanted to see her happy. More than anything.

  He shuddered as she touched him. Closed his eyes against the overwhelming burst of emotion that flared within him. Damn it.

  For an instant he tried to deny it. He didn’t want the intensity that was beginning to override their time together. He just wanted sex, right? The fun, meaningless kind. He sought nothing but satisfaction. Not any kind of connection, none of this ‘opening up’. They weren’t sharing on that level. He’d been wrong to tell her about Louis.

  He kept his eyes closed, so she was only curves and heat and softness. But there was no denying it was Caitlin. Caitlin’s sighs, Caitlin arching against him. Welcoming him. Accepting him. Holding nothing back from him—offering it all. And he couldn’t resist taking it.

  On the beach today he’d known she wouldn’t let him down—she’d listened. Accepted. And now she embraced.

  Wasn’t that why he’d told her? Because he’d known she would hold him anyway.

  He felt as if he were tearing apart. He pressed kisses to the junction of her neck and shoulder, wrapped his arms tightly about her to hold her close. She clung back—held him—as they both trembled and tumbled over the edge.

  His lungs worked hard—unable to catch the breath he so badly needed. She’d let him claim her. And in her unquestioning acceptance of his demands, she’d damn well given him so much more again. And he’d given her more than he wanted to.

  There was nothing simple about what they shared.

  There was nothing simple about anything any more.

  ELEVEN

  A gentle knock at the door woke Caitlin.

  ‘James?’

  It was Jack.

  James covered her with the sheet and wrapped a towel round his waist. From the bed Caitlin couldn’t decipher the soft murmurs, but she saw the concerned look in Jack’s eye. Saw the way he handed James something. A loyal brother.

  James didn’t look pleased as he came back to bed after saying bye to Jack and closing the door. He was carrying an iPad. That was what Jack had given him? Caitlin’s blood iced. Over his shoulder, she stared at the screen. She blinked rapidly, but the picture didn’t change.

  The photo was basically explicit. You could see the outline of her nipples—diamond hard—her lips were red and swollen from James’ kisses. Her cheeks were flushed as she walked pressed close to his side, her hand locked in his as they exited the club last night. He wore the edgy, almost violent expression of a man about to stake his sexual claim.

  It hadn’t helped that he’d pulled her onto his lap the second they’d got into the cab outside the nightclub. In that second picture there weren’t hands in inappropriate places, but it was clear what was about to occur.

  She looked at the logo of the British tabloid in the top corner of the webpage. Of course. Even a former E-list celebrity like her gave them fodder to fill their poisonous online editions. Frustration spurted in a furious blast. It wasn’t as if she courted publicity. If only she’d not gotten involved with Dominic. It wasn’t fair.

  Through blurry eyes she read parts of the accompanying article—and the comments people had left at the bottom of it.

  Beauty and the Bitch.

  Someone needs to warn him...the most unlikely couple...

  Scarred hero will be screwed over by the psycho.

  A
ll the venom was there. The vile things people said, carping about him being with her. Some celebrity psychologist had even done a boxed opinion piece on ‘why do the good guys always want to redeem wayward women?’. The opposite of the good-girls going for bad-boys. Somehow, it was always the woman’s fault. The good girls were labelled stupid for thinking they could change someone. Yet the good guy was heroic for trying to pull back the titanium-tits bitch.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ James switched the screen to black. ‘Don’t look at it. Don’t go there.’

  ‘I don’t understand how they knew we were there.’ Horrified, she stared at him.

  His brows drew together and he stared back at her. ‘Don’t think I told them.’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  He looked appalled. Then irate. ‘Like I’d let the media know anything. Did you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she spat.

  ‘Why are we fighting?’ He grasped her wrist as she tried to leave the bed. ‘This is ridiculous. We both loathe the intrusion. Neither of us would sell our souls, right?’

  ‘Right.’ She drew in a shaky breath. ‘Sorry. Of course you didn’t tell them. It just threw me.’

  She knew some other story would soon take its place. It was like being stabbed—sudden and sharp—and everyone’s shocked eyes were locked on her as they watched the blood ooze. But they’d soon turn away, as soon as some other attention-worthy mess occurred. But she’d be left with the wound. It lingered with her far longer. It wasn’t fifteen minutes of fame in the Internet, more like five seconds. And yet it was then up there for all eternity. Any time someone did a search, it would be found again. She’d never truly be able to escape it.

  ‘It probably wasn’t even paparazzi,’ James said. ‘Everyone has a smartphone these days, right?’

  There was no such thing as privacy.