Daniel hesitated for only a second before nodding. The door closed on us, and his footsteps crossed the outer room, fading as he left us.
Sean didn’t wait for Daniel’s retreat—he’d already nudged his boxers to join his rumpled trousers. Hands back on my hips, he lifted and lowered me onto him.
My gasp as he entered my body met with his rumbling one. My eyes closed in satisfaction before reopening to watch him.
Soft moans left us both as he thrust.
His teeth worked my throat.
My nails drew blood from his shoulders, and Sean’s growls attacked the quiet of the room.
With each movement, we trembled. With each growl, each moan, we shuddered.
Nearing our peaks, our sighs of desire crescendoed into cries of pleasure, each of Sean’s calls shooting my body closer to climax.
I brushed my lips across his cheek to his ear. “Come with me, baby.”
Our gazes relocked.
He moved faster.
The small space filled with low echoes of our passion as flames licked along my body.
As my body convulsed in orgasm, Sean’s knees collapsed, and we both landed upon the floor, me astride his lap. My fingers smoothed across his shoulders and the damage my nails had caused. The kiss I allowed him arrived slow, tender.
“You have paint in your hair, Jem.” Sean’s husky chuckle hit my chest.
I reached back to investigate.
“And you have paint on your back.”
A small smile spread my lips.
“And your gorgeous arse is now an interesting shade of green.”
At my snort, he laughed again—until Nathan’s deep tone alerted us of Daniel’s poor attempt to hold him off, and Sean’s eyes widened.
Clambering up, I reached for clothing at the same time as Sean.
He slid his boxers and jeans over his hips, tugged his T-shirt back on.
Thanks to Sean’s destruction of my painting suit, I had only knickers to cover my lower half. My spare suits lay in the other room—with Nathan.
Sean chuckled behind me as I took a deep breath and yanked open the door. I strode straight for my suits and pulled one on.
Nathan’s nose wrinkled, scrunching up when Sean stood in the doorway.
The paint across my back tightened as I moved. I must have looked a real mess—confirmed when Nathan returned to staring at me.
Connor and Daniel joined in.
Suited up, I acknowledged the knowing glance of Daniel, sent him a small smile, but avoided the understanding appraisal of the two older pack members as I hightailed it into the kitchen.
A gentle nudge against Sean’s back sent him to the wrong side of the door, and I swung it shut, leaving him to deal with his dad.
“Sean?” Nathan asked in his voice of disapproval.
At least our escapade had gotten Josh off my mind.
With a stifled giggle, I went back to work.
• • •
Thursday equalled my day off, and a chance to spend some ‘girl time’ with Poppy.
As I hung up on Sean’s third phone call to check on my safety, Poppy turned to me, her eyebrow raised. “Withdrawal symptoms?”
My lips curved. “Of course.”
She turned back to the black skinny jeans in her hand. “Things okay with you and Josh?”
“I suppose . . .” I’d already told her by phone about the argument and making up with him. She also knew exactly what I thought of Marianne’s creepy tea brewing. “Until she turned up again, yesterday.”
“She came to the site again?”
I nodded. “She brought him more bog syrup.”
Poppy’s brows lifted. “She made him more tea?”
My head bobbed again. “And she wanted her other flask back.”
“Ha!” Poppy snorted. “Did you fish it out the bushes, then?”
I smiled. “Yep.”
“Did she suspect?”
“Probably. She’d have to be a moron to believe Josh is drinking that dishwater of hers.”
Poppy dropped the jeans into her trolley. “Is it really that bad?”
“Nope. It’s worse. And I’m certain the conniver tried to hurt me when she took it off me.”
“She tried to hurt you?” Poppy-the-parrot asked.
I told her how she’d taken the flask from me.
“What a bitch.” Poppy’s defensiveness resonated in her tone.
“Yep. And I’m sure they were making plans for the weekend. Plans I’m certain Dan’s involved in. Plans they stopped talking about when I stepped into the room—ones Josh has yet to mention to me. If he thinks my eavesdropping lets him off telling me himself, he’s mistaken.”
Poppy smiled. “I’m sure he is. He’ll tell you, though, especially after Saturday.”
I frowned. “Do you think I overreacted on Saturday, Pop?”
“How important is Josh to you?” she asked—the exact response as when I’d asked her by phone.
I arched my eyebrow.
“Stupid question. How important is it, to you, he not get hurt?”
My expression didn’t waver.
“How much do you dislike this girl?”
My eyebrow lowered to accommodate an impressive scowl.
“Me, neither. So no, I don’t think you’re overreacting when you put it into perspective with your feelings. But you have to remember, Josh is old enough to make his own decisions. He’ll figure her out soon.” Poppy-the-sage rubbed my shoulder. “You just have to be there to save his fall when he does.”
“I guess.”
“So . . .” She nudged me with her hip. “Two weeks ‘til Christmas. Any idea what you’re getting Sean?”
“No.” My pulse picked up a notch at the thought of finding the perfect present for our first Christmas together. “What am I supposed to buy him?”
She started to walk off. “You’ll think of something.”
“No, I won’t. I’m useless at buying presents.”
“Don’t be silly.” She peered over her shoulder as she sashayed away.
“I’m not.” Shaking my head, I trailed behind her. “I haven’t a clue what to get him.”
“Sean would be happy if you wrapped your body in tinfoil and offered yourself to him on a plate, Jem.” She grabbed my trolley to pull me beside her. “Quit worrying over nothing. You’ll find the right thing.”
I nodded. “I will.”
“Yep.” She gave a small laugh as she continued along the aisle.
“No problem,” I muttered.
No problem at all.
• • •
The filled-to-capacity trolley made me grateful Nathan had insisted I bring the pick-up. Poppy drew alongside me with her smaller trolley as I came to a stop beside the truck. She rambled on about Christmas whilst I distracted myself by loading the numerous bags into the bed.
As I reached down for the last three bags, the uncomfortable sensation of being watched prickled the back of my neck—exactly how it had in the DIY Depot.
Scouring the car park, I sampled the air, my ears strained for those damn alarm bells.
“Jem?”
I held up a finger. Poppy simply completed loading the shopping whilst I scanned left to right.
A woman, strawberry blonde, tall, hourglass figure. Mature couple, evidently still enjoying each other in their entwined method of walking. Empty red Fiesta. Empty blue Polo. Woman loading a small child into the rear of a petrol-blue people carrier. Black Lexus with a woman in the driver’s seat.
My eyes followed the path of an elderly lady walking at the speed of a slug.
Something still niggled.
An empty green Golf. An old man who appeared t
o be struggling with his climb into his Berlingo. Teenager mounting a scooter. A handful of trolley collectors.
Something still niggled, something about that damn Lexus.
Someone had been in there a moment before, but it stood empty. I thought back to the chestnut hair I’d spotted through the windshield. Something bothered me about that, too, though I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Do me a favour, Pop?”
She dropped the final bag into the truck. “Sure.”
“Do the trolley return and take them past that black Lexus. See if you can get a look inside.”
Although her eyes held confusion, she headed off without question, moving across the car park as if she had all the time in the world. Alongside the Lexus, she tilted her head, a discreet move as though to look over the car.
A couple minutes later, she returned. “Just some woman bending over to reach into her handbag on the passenger floor.”
My gaze remained fixed on the black vehicle. What the heck had me so antsy?
“What’s going on, Jem?”
I shook it off. “Just a niggle.”
5
The following morning, as I gave the showroom bathroom its first coat of paint, I thought—again—over what to do for Christmas. Thanks to Poppy’s reminder that only two weeks remained, panic mode had kicked in, and the stupid subject refused to budge from my mind.
It took until the second coating of Silver Quartz before the beginnings of an idea formulated—a good one. That didn’t mean it would be easy to accomplish. Nathan would take some serious buttering up. Lost in the low squelch of the roller, I formulated my plan.
Mid-morning, as the bathroom embraced its new colour, Josh visited me. When I turned to him, with his head bowed and bearing coffee and a doughnut, I suspected the time had arrived to share his weekend plans.
“Thanks.” I smiled as I took them and walked through to the lounge with Josh in tow. Planting my rear on the window ledge, I took a bite of the sugary cake, failing to catch the jam as it oozed down my chin.
Josh reached out and rescued it on his thumb, licking himself clean. “I thought I should warn you I’m going out with Marianne again on Sunday.” His gaze stayed on me as he spoke.
I stopped chewing for a second. “Why Sunday?”
“That’s when she invited us.”
My brow arched. “Us?”
He dug his hands into his jeans pockets. “She asked if Dan wanted to double date with her sister.”
My doughnut lodged in my throat. A quick swig of coffee disguised my groan.
Marianne poaching on Josh concerned me enough without her doubling up and dragging Daniel into the mix.
I relaxed my clenched jaw. “Does that mean you won’t be there when we come for dinner? You missed our time together last weekend.”
The excuse sounded lame, but Josh smiled. “No, Jem.” His fingers trapped my loose hair, tugging a little. “We’ll only be out in the morning. Dad said he’ll get dinner ready an hour later, so we’ll be back for it.”
I studied him, sipped my coffee, holding my frown at bay when it attempted to creep in. “Okay.”
His brows lifted. “Okay?”
I nodded.
“You’re giving me permission?”
My shoulders shrugged.
“So …if we’re into asking permission of one another, where was your request on Wednesday, Jem?”
I stared at him.
“I know very well what you and Sean got up to in that bloody kitchen.” He pointed behind himself as he grinned. “Dan couldn’t wait to tell us when he got home. I can’t believe you got away with it.”
My lips twitched. “Neither could we.”
“You got lucky.” Josh leaned in and kissed my cheek, his breath warming my face as he pulled back. “But next time? Remember to come ask me if it’s okay first.” His chuckle followed him as he walked off.
“Touché,” I whispered with a half smile.
• • •
Sneaking from bed Sunday morning without disturbing Sean took skill, but a tiptoeing trip down the stairs and into the conservatory unhindered proved my covert antics successful.
I’d hoped Nathan would be up—he usually woke first. He sat so immobile, I thought he was asleep. Eyes half open in a lazy, contented way, he stared toward the garden from beneath the pitter-patter of rain on the glass roof.
As I curled into the willow chair beside his, the slight flare of his nostrils told me he’d acknowledged my presence.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“So are you.”
“Yes, but I’m always up early. You, on the other hand, aren’t.”
We fell quiet for minutes. My breathing slowed as I leaned back into my seat, and my mind filled with the hypnotic sounds of the weather. I closed my eyes, tired still thanks to my early morning.
“Did you want to speak to me about something, Jem?”
My lids remained lowered. “What makes you think that?”
He chuckled, its deepness bouncing like a bass drum within the small enclosure. “You must want something. You’re never awake at this hour. And when did you ever climb from bed without Sean to accompany you?”
He’d come to know me well. Smiling, I opened my eyes.
“What is it?”
“I need to ask you something.”
He twisted in his chair and faced me.
“I need your permission for something. If you give it, then I need to ask your help.” I shrugged. “I doubt you’ll even give the permission, though, let alone the help.”
He waited a few seconds. “Now you have me intrigued.”
My shoulders hunched in an exaggerated shrug.
“Ask me, then.”
“I want to do something special for Sean …for Christmas as it’s our first together—well …this time, anyway.”
He smiled as he did every time I made reference to my history with Sean.
“I’ve been racking my brain to come up with an idea that’ll mean a lot to him—something he’ll treasure. When I finally thought of it, I realised my biggest obstacle was you.”
His eyebrow lifted. “I’m not a total ogre, you know.”
My lips curved. “You’re not even a bit of one.”
“So, tell me. What do you want?”
I took a deep breath. “I want to make a scrapbook of photographs for Sean. I know there’s none around the house, but I figured you must have some hidden away somewhere. Josh’s room is full of pictures of his mother . . .”
Nathan frowned. “You want the scrapbook to contain pictures of Beth?”
“Yes. Well, not just Beth. Pictures of me, too, and other people important to him. And Poppy has pictures of us from last weekend. I thought I’d get one blown up and framed.” I paused for breath. “I just thought he’d like it, that’s all.”
His expression remained negative. “Tell me, Jem. Why do you think there aren’t photos around the house?”
“I know you believe cutting the connection with Beth keeps her safer, Nate”—the pack that incited him to hide her was the same one that slaughtered Connor’s wife—“but you know Sean would keep it somewhere secure. I don’t believe for one minute you haven’t any pictures of her.” I watched him as I spoke. “If Connor was trigger happy with a camera, you most likely were, too.”
As he continued to study me, the lines lessened across his brow.
“I didn’t want to go behind your back. I wanted to speak to you first. Like I said, I want your permission.”
He leaned back in his seat. “I don’t know, Jem. I’m not sure it’s—”
“Please, Nate.”
“Can’t you just buy him clothes?”
“I don�
�t want to bloody buy clothes for him. I’ve thought so hard about this. This is the only idea that feels right”—I pressed my hand to my chest—“in here. That’s why it’s so important to me.”
“I’m just not sure it’s a good idea.”
“He misses her.”
His pale blue eyes held intensity when he swung back to me. “He speaks of her with you?”
“A lot. He misses her like crazy. It hurts him, not seeing her. I’m sure having pictures—memories—would mean a lot to him.”
He leaned forward until his elbows came to rest on his thighs, rubbed a hand over his lowered head. After a long silence, he lifted to me, some kind of inner emotion warring within his eyes. “Okay. You can have the pictures.”
My eyebrows shot up. “I can?”
“Yes. But you must keep them safe, understand?”
A sigh of relief escaped as I nodded.
• • •
By the time we headed indoors at Connor’s, the rain had weighted each of our clothing.
As usual, I headed straight for Josh’s room—he and Daniel’s absence a tangible oddity throughout the house.
In his wardrobe, I found jogging bottoms, jeans, shirts, T-shirts, vests, shorts—every one of them too big. Josh’s less broad shoulders made his stuff my best fit, though, so I nabbed a pair of jersey, drawstring shorts and a T-shirt and crossed the room to extend the ‘loan’ to a pair of his boxers.
Sitting on the bed beside his table, my attention snagged on the array of framed photographs it housed. Josh’s mum, Nadine, had passed on her dark blond hair to her two youngest sons. Only her hazel eyes were recognisable in Kyle’s face, his red hair having been inherited from Connor.
The pictures depicted the entire family in informal poses with goofy grins, Nadine alone, a warm smile on her face, a much younger and ganglier Josh—obviously pre-puberty—with his arms around his mother’s waist.
Sean entered Josh’s room a lot. I wondered how hard he found it, knowing Josh had been permitted images of his mother when Sean had nothing as a reminder of Beth. At least, I guessed, Sean had the knowledge that his mother still lived and breathed somewhere. Josh only had pictures.
The fresh T-shirt I pulled on turned out not to be as fresh as estimated and stank of Josh as did the shorts I swapped sweatpants for—thankfully, I liked Josh’s scent. As my hips wriggled in, and I cinched the drawstring, the deep rumble of an engine rolled beneath the window—unmistakably Daniel’s Toyota Hi-Lux.
Blue Moon Page 5
