by Meg Buchanan
She picked up a length of cream satin that shone in her hands and carefully folded it, in half then half again.
“Some of the material is very old. Evelyn did a line in vintage fabrics, and this is what they had left. And some was bought by mistake and they didn’t use it.” Tessa ran her hand over what looked like a wave of gold rubber.
She hadn’t turned the light on, and the only light came from the slit of a window along the top of the back wall. It spotlighted her. A librarian in black and white against overwhelming, luscious colour.
Luke still felt lost in the memory of them at the beach together when they were young and how much he’d loved her then. She was still the same person. Still happy and caring and impulsive. Her love of fabric and colour spilled out of her the way her love of surfing and being with him had that day.
He moved closer and caught one of the curls that tumbled down the column of her neck and tucked it behind her ear.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful you are,” he said.
She looked surprised. “It’s just the lighting.” She turned away from him for a moment to lay the folded satin on the counter top. The counter looked antique, all moulded edges, shaped front panels and a dark patina to the stain. The back had shelves with cards and rolls of lace and edging jumbled into them. Someone, a long time ago, had put a lot of time and effort into making this counter.
He stepped closer to her again. “No, I was remembering the way you looked at the beach that first time we made love, and when you looked at me then and I saw you the way you were that day.” That was probably the first romantic thing he’d said to her in years. He slid his arms around her and pulled her closer.
“Jesus, Luke. What’s got into you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s all this talk of going away. I’m starting to realise what I’m leaving behind.”
He bent his head to kiss her and felt her hands go to his shoulders, and then as the kiss deepened they slipped around his neck. He ran his palms down her hips to the hem of her skirt and started to lift it. He wanted to touch her, caress her, the way he had that day. Capture that feeling of overwhelming love and the certainty he was with the right person.
Chapter Fourteen
Tessa pulled away and pushed her skirt back down over her thighs. This wasn’t going to happen. “What are you doing? You’ll get me sacked before I’ve even started the job.”
“I want to make love to you.” He stared at her as he said it with more intensity than she’d seen for years. Usually he kept things light and teasing. These days they’d even talk all the way through sex. That was another thing. He’d just said make love to her, instead of fuck her, like he usually did.
“Someone might come in.” But they were alone. He was leaving in a week. He hadn’t looked at her like this in years. Like she was the centre of his life. Like at that moment all he wanted to do was love her. She could feel herself weakening.
He nodded at the key. “Lock the door then.” His hand slid behind her neck again, and he pulled her closer, his forehead against hers. “Let me make love to you. This could be the last time we’re really alone. This weekend will be crazy, and then I’m leaving.”
Let him make love to her? He’d said it twice now.
She hesitantly reached for the key still on the counter top, picked it up then took the few steps to the door. As she turned the key she heard voices going past in the passageway. She wasn’t sure how alone they really were or if this was a good idea, but Luke had said the magic words.
She went back to him and looked up. He pulled her closer and leaned against the counter running down the middle of the room. Evelyn had said it had been in the first shop she owned. It was a lovely thing, solid, dark and glowing.
He started to unbutton her top. One button, then the next, his mouth curved in a small smile. “So beautiful,” he said, his eyes dark and intense.
“We mightn’t have much time,” she said.
“I’ve got all the time in the world. I want to make love to you properly.”
There it was again. Make love to you.
He kissed her and pushed the blouse off her shoulders and down her arms. It dropped to the floor, and he studied her standing in front of him in her bra and skirt.
“Now what?” she asked, caught up in the spell he had woven.
He knelt down, and one by one took off her shoes then ran his hands and mouth up her legs to her thighs.
“So lovely. Long and tanned and perfectly shaped.” He moved the skirt up until it was bunched around her waist. She leaned back a little against the shelving and felt the fabric draped over shelves.
He rested his head against the top of her thighs, his forehead on the V of lace and breathed in slowly like he was catching the essence of her.
This wasn’t Luke. It wasn’t the way he did things. Slowly and romantically. She liked this new version though. She gently ran her fingers through his hair.
He hooked his fingers under the lace and slid her thong down her legs.
She expected he’d stand then, unbutton and unzip himself, pick her up, push her against shelving and pump into her. Instead he gently nudged her legs apart and touched and nuzzled, his tongue and fingers stroking. Her breathing quickened, her back arched, her head dropped back. She clutched at the shelf behind her. It did feel like he was making love to her.
As he nudged one shoulder under her knee, she felt the shelf sway.
She giggled. “It’s going to fall on us Luke,” she whispered.
He looked up at her, his eyes still dark, his hand still cupped between her legs.
“Fuck,” he said as quietly as she had spoken. “Then they’d really wonder what you were doing in here.”
He pulled his hand away and stood up. He grinned at her in the half light. He really was gorgeous. That lop-sided half grin had always got her. She tried to push her skirt down, but he brushed her hand away.
“You look magnificent,” he said.
She doubted that, naked from the waist down, her skirt hiked up, top gone, her hair tumbling down around her face. She’d bet she didn’t look the way she had in the mirror this morning before she left for work.
But she still wanted him. Still wanted to finish what he’d started here and, the way he was looking at her, she’d never felt so desirable.
But they were in the fabric cupboard at the firm where she wanted to work for the rest of her life.
Well, at least until she was a successful designer.
He pressed up against her and kissed her again.
“What am I going to do with you now?” he whispered. She guessed the question was rhetorical. Good sense said move away from him. Get dressed and get out of the cupboard. But everything else just wanted to keep going. Make love properly. The shelving unit swayed again. Any moment it was going to collapse, and years of fabric would tumble to the floor.
Luke must have thought the same thing. He stepped back from her and pulled her away from the shelf. The shelf shuddered and some of the rolls moved.
He nodded at the shelving unit. “The bastards who installed that should have secured it to the wall properly,” he whispered.
She nodded and giggled. “I’ll let Evelyn know.” He grinned back. She guessed if they didn’t know each other so well, this could have got embarrassing.
He slid his arms around her and pulled her hard against him. “Do you want to stop?” he asked.
It must have killed him to ask her that.
She shook her head. “Do you?” She could tell he didn’t. The erection must be killing him too. She pushed the skirt back in place. How come he was still dressed?
He shook his head, then looked around the room. The shelving on the other wall looked as unstable as what they’d been leaning against.
Rich fabric covered the counter and tumbled to the floor. Luke looked at the counter then looked a question at her.
“No, we can’t use that, we’d leave stains on the fabric,” she said.
/> “You do realise this is getting less and less romantic?” he asked.
She snorted. That had never bothered him before.
“We could save it until tonight.”
Luke shook his head. “I have to go home when I leave here. Cole hasn’t signed yet, and Chapman wants the contracts this afternoon. The electronic copies anyway.” Luke was still looking from the counter to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to leave unfinished what they’d started.
Then he grinned at her again and ran his arm along the top of the counter, pushing all the fabric onto the floor.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Making sure we don’t leave stains.” He kicked the billowing material into a pile, then took off his jacket and spread it out on top of the counter.
“You’re kidding?”
“No.” he pulled off his T shirt and lay it on top of the jacket. “I’ll take any stains with me,” he said. He pulled her towards him. Her bare feet sunk into the soft layers on the floor. “Now, where were we?” he asked.
He kissed her and then undid her bra and slipped the straps down her shoulders. She heard someone try the handle of the door and looked past him.
“It’s locked,” he whispered. “They’ll just think we’ve gone.”
“But the key won’t be on its hook when they look.”
“That’s a good thing.” He nuzzled at her breasts, naked and ready for his mouth. Her soft gasp surprised her. He’d done that a million times. It shouldn’t still affect her like that.
Now his hands were behind her undoing the button on her skirt. “They’ll think you have it, and we’re wandering around the building with it somewhere.”
Then the zip. She could feel her breasts against his chest.
To hell with it. This was going to happen. She reached for his fly.
He pushed her skirt to the floor and stepped back a bit, so he could see her. He studied her from head to toe, and she could feel a slight blush rising. Then he grinned, undid the jeans himself, toed off his boots and let the jeans fall to the floor. He looked as good as any of the male models that sometimes wandered around the building.
“Magnificent,” she said.
“I know.” He’d never been short of confidence in the way he looked. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up onto the counter top. She leaned back, her palms on the old timber.
“Now as long as nobody finds a spare key we’re right,” he murmured.
She hadn’t thought about there being a spare key. She tried to sit up.
“Luke, we can’t…” she started to say, but he gently pushed her back.
“Don’t talk. Now, where was I?”
Chapter Fifteen
Luke exhaled a long deep breath. Tessa looked amazing naked in the dim light and profusion fabric. It was strange to be so overwhelmed again by her after barely noticing her for so long.
“You look ready” she whispered, her eyes moved from his face to his cock. “You look like you’re in a hurry.”
“No,” he whispered back. “I’m going to do this properly. I’m going to make love to you, slowly and deliberately, as if we have all the time in the world.”
“Jesus.”
The door handle rattled again, and he saw Tessa look over his shoulder. “But we don’t have all the time in the world.”
He stooped, picked up a length of red satin and draped it over his head. “If anyone comes in, we’ll hide under this.
“Idiot,” said Tess. But he could tell she was as turned on by this as she was. Maybe it was the danger of being discovered that made it so exciting.
He leaned over her, one arm braced beside her, and kissed her lips, the red satin slithered over her shoulders and breasts.
He moved his mouth to her earlobe. “Shhh. Relax. Enjoy.” Then kissed down the side of her neck. Then her breasts. He enjoyed that intake of breath as he bit on one nipple then the other.
“God, Luke.” Her body rose to meet his. “I want to touch you too.” Her hands ran the length of his body.
He stroked her breasts then moved his mouth over her flat stomach to the spot between her legs, always too sensitive for his fingers at this point. He pulled her forward a little to the edge of the counter then knelt between her legs.
“The perfect height,” he said. Slowly and carefully he nuzzled and sucked, touched and stroked. After all these years he knew her body so well. He knew each stage and the way she liked to be touched. She arched into his mouth and her hands left his head and rested on his clothes. He stepped up the rhythm. This time the footsteps outside the door got no reaction from Tessa. He looked up and saw her hands clutching at his jacket lost in sensation.
She was close. His fingers and lips focused more and drew a long, soft moan from her then she quivered under his touch.
She gasped as he went deeper. Her thighs tightened around his head, and her body stiffened. Luke kept a tight hold on her hips. He felt the change come over her and her soft sigh, then a wilting into him. He smoothed his hand down her hips keeping the touches of lips and tongue light and feathery until she was calm.
Then, after a long pause where neither of them moved, she whispered, “Stand up. I’m lonely up here. I want to love you too.”
That sounded fair but logistically difficult with her up on the counter, until she slithered off, taking his jacket and T-shirt with her. The clothes tumbled to the floor.
Then her mouth took him in and she moved, hands and mouth caressing and touching.
Luke left Tessa at Munros. He wasn’t sure what had got into him in the fabric room. It was because something had triggered that memory of the first time they made love and how perfect it had been. He’d wanted to experience that again. And after a couple of objections she’d gone along with it. She always did, always had.
As he got in the car, he looked back at her. She stood on the steps and waved him off. She’d straightened her hair and put those sexy librarian clothes back on, but she still had that flushed, just made love to look to her.
And he’d had the impression, even before they left the room, she regretted what they’d done. He’d never felt that from her before, and in the six years they’d been together they’d had sex pretty much anywhere any time he’d wanted to.
He felt guilty. Heart wrenching guilty. Emotionally torn in two. But he wasn’t quite sure whether he felt guilty about making love to Tessa in the fabric room or going back to Rose now.
Somehow, he loved both Tess and Rose, and his conscience screamed he was betraying them both. He couldn’t stand the idea of the mess he’d made. Tessa never seemed to have any doubts about how much she loved him which made this thing with Rose even worse. He should choose. He should do it now before someone got hurt.
But he didn’t turn back to talk to Tessa. And he was pretty sure he wouldn’t tell Rose what he’d just done when he got back to her either. And he was going to hurt at least one of them whatever happened.
Rose had better not be at the house when he got there because he needed a shower. He could still smell Tessa on him.
And he was leaving. He might just be able to slip away without any waves. One night with Rose. Two more nights with Tessa, then two with Rose again and he’d be gone.
Tidying up the fabric room was taking Tessa a lot longer than she imagined it would. She felt obliged to finish it before she went home.
She rolled up a length of velvet. She shouldn’t have had sex with Luke in here. That was about as unprofessional as she could get. And it wasn’t the way she wanted the people at Munros to see her.
She wanted them to see Tessa Butler, beautiful, unobtainable, classy and talented, not slutty Theresa Butler, always up for a bit of the other. She wasn’t like that anymore. She was the sensible one. The one who took care of everyone.
She pushed the roll of velvet hard into the shelf with the vintage fabrics. Then bent, scooped up an armful of lace, placed it gently on the table top and started sorting and folding.
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br /> It annoyed her she’d let Luke talk her into having sex here. He could be such an arse sometimes. Always fun, unpredictable, and with a libido you wouldn’t believe. And the way he looked still took her breath away. But he never thought of the consequences ever. And she was sure he still saw her as Theresa, the girl always ready to spread her legs for him whenever they were together.
She studied the piece of lace she was holding. Beautiful. The design corded and studded with diamantes, almost a 3D effect.
They were so lucky they hadn’t been found. Dominic had looked at her a bit strangely after Luke left, but maybe that was just jealousy. He’d always liked her and made it clear if she ever wanted to get rid of Luke he’d be happy to fill the gap. Maybe Dominic wished it was him who had trapped her in the cupboard.
Or maybe she was a whispered joke again. Just the stupid slut who’d do anything if someone paid her a bit of attention.
She folded the piece of lace and put it on top of pile. She thought she’d left all that self-doubt and lack of confidence behind when she left school and moved over here. That’s why she never went home. That way she never had to wonder what people were thinking about her when she met them. Trust Luke to bring all the fear and uncertainty rushing back.
She slid the pile of lace onto the shelf with the velvet. And trust Luke to risk jeopardising her future here just because he wanted to fuck.
When she saw him again they’d have a talk. She’d tell him that sort of thing wasn’t going to happen again. No more pushing her up against walls in semi-public places, wrapping her legs around him and fucking. No more stripping for him. Especially no more hiding in cupboards where they could hear people walking past. She’d tell him he had to treat her with more respect.
She picked up an armload of cream silk. It billowed onto the counter top and she slid the softness through her fingers. They had ended up on the floor on top of the fabric finishing what they started. How did Luke talk her into taking such a risk?
