by Butler, Eden
“I can’t…if you knew—”
It was on the tip of my tongue. The truth about Joe, about my life back home. It almost came out, but when I looked at her again, saw how her eyes had gone all glassy, I was right back to feeling like a prized git. If she knew, she’d hate me for touching her. She’d hate herself for wanting to touch me right back.
“Help me understand then.”
I sagged against her, dropped my head to her shoulder so that I could take a breath, so I could sort out what way was best to put her off, just once more. But my mind was fecking blank. There was nothing there but her smell, the way her curves felt in my hands, how she made me weak. “You don’t know how hard this is for me.” I straightened up, hoped that she could see how desperate I was when I looked at her. “I want you. God, do I want you.”
“Declan. Please. You have a girlfriend. You shouldn’t say things like that when you have Heather.”
What the bleeding hell? “How do you know about her?” I was determined not to budge when she tried pushing me away again.
“Was I not supposed to find out? She threatened me to stay away from you.”
Fecking Heather. What the hell did she say to Autumn? I’d told that girl a thousand bloody times I wasn’t interested, but she wouldn’t give me any space.
Autumn had to see right through Heather’s lies. She was cleverer than that. I had to make her understand, to see that I would never want someone like Heather. That time, when I touched her, Autumn didn’t flinch away from me. “We’re not together. I don’t want her, Autumn.”
I hoped I wasn’t holding her too tight. She squirmed away and I knew I should have let her leave. I knew she didn’t need me messing her about. But then a flash of Morrison touching her back, of her letting him touch her, vanished all reason and sense from my head.
“Tucker’s waiting for me,” she said, and it sounded like a taunt.
She couldn’t be seriously considering Morrison. She hated him. She told me so. “No.” My palm stung when I slapped it against the wall. “Don’t leave.”
I couldn’t make out what she was thinking. Knowing her, it wouldn’t be good. But the way her eyes shot over my face, the way they lingered on my mouth, how she struggled to keep that bleeding angry scowl on her face, only made me want to be closer. I wanted to kiss her until we were both gasping. I wanted to fill all the spaces her father and Morrison left bare. I wanted her to touch me until my body was spent, until the sweat on our skin and our spent breaths filled the room.
Slowly Autumn’s face hardened again and I thought I really had lost her then. It killed me, just a little bit more the harder her features became.
“I’m going with him, Declan. I’m going out with Tucker. I’m going to have dinner with him. I’m going to dance with him. I’m going to let him hold me.”
I pulled my fingers from her skin. Her words seared me, had me second guessing her completely. She must have noticed this, must have seen how the idea of her with Morrison had me filling with rage, had my hands shaking as though I’d been fecking electrocuted.
“And when the night is over, I’m going to let him kiss me, let him touch me if he wants. I’m going to do all of that because he wants me and he isn’t afraid to show me how much he wants me. Because he isn’t a coward.”
Like bloody hell. No fecking way would I let that happen. Before I knew what I was doing, my fist slammed against the wall. It ached like a bugger, but Autumn didn’t blink, didn’t flinch at my reaction. She tried moving again, to step away from me but no way in bleeding hell was I going to let her leave all smug like that.
“Does he touch you like I do?” She couldn’t answer, seemed unable to do much else than close her eyes. Autumn moved against me as though she was uncomfortable, as though me just touching her, pressing against her, was setting her body on fire. I pushed her further, loving how she tried to deny what was brimming between us. “Does he kiss you like I do?” I wouldn’t let her answer. Autumn wasn’t the sort of girl who appreciates pathetic, insincere words. She liked when people were direct. I’d give her fecking direct.
My tongue slipped right into her mouth and she didn’t deny me. In fact, she was eager, anxious, responded to the low groans that worked up my throat. For a moment, I forgot that she was not mine, that I had to push her away. All I felt was her lips, her soft, warm tongue buried in my mouth, the way her hips pressed against mine and it was fecking perfect.
But perfection ended, was extinguished when she again pulled away. Bloody stubborn woman.
She closed her eyes again when I wouldn’t give her an inch of space, tried denying what I was doing to her body, I could tell. I wouldn’t let her deny this. Not again. Her skin was like silk when I cupped her chin between my fingers. They were calloused, shouldn’t have been touching her, weren’t worthy. “Look at me,” I said, my voice sharp. “Fecking look at me, Autumn,” I whispered.
She managed to resist, just a few blinks more before she finally watched me. I didn’t know what expression I was giving her. It was still guarded, hopefully still hiding all the things that were racing in my mind. I wanted her. Badly. But it wasn’t just her body. I thought I fecking loved her, God help me, and the idea of her not wanting, not loving me back made my control, my composure, pathetic things.
Autumn’s body was hot, her skin flushed. If she didn’t want me, she’d say so. She’d work that biting knee up into my bollocks like the first night I tried to kiss her. But she didn’t. Her fingers clawed into my arms, her breath came out heavy, desperate. “You want me. You want my skin on yours, don’t you? You want to feel my hands on your body.” I touched her, tentative at first, then out of control, a slow rub against her hardening nipple. She didn’t slap my hand away. In fact, her back curved a small fraction, pushing against my fingers. “I can feel it. Your body aching for me just like mine aches for you.”
“I…I don’t want…want you.”
She was lying. That hard nipple rubbed against my fingers again, her hips moving like she wanted me to bury myself inside her. God, just the thought of that had me grabbing her wrist, pulling her palm against my aching, hard dick. I wasn’t sure what she’d do. Hit me? Knee me again? But she didn’t jerk her hand away. She didn’t do anything except work those clever fingers against me and shite did it feel good.
Her fingers on my dick like they knew exactly how to touch me; I fecking loved it. “I want you too, love. So much. I want you wet and willing and desperate for me, just like I am for you. All the time. Every second of the bleeding day I think of that night in your bed when all I wanted was to be buried inside you. It hasn’t stopped, no matter what I say, it won’t stop, this ache for you, only you, McShane.” She shook, arms trembling, touch faltering until I felt cold, missed the searing way she rubbed against me. She couldn’t do that, couldn’t stop. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Let me have you, be with you.”
“No, Declan. You only want me now because I’m seeing Tucker. I’m tired of you fucking with my head.”
Fecking Morrison again. “You’re not with Tucker, not now. I just want…I need…” my breath caught, clotted in my throat and all that I felt, all the emotions and heat Autumn worked over me, in me, spilled out like a flood. I wanted so many things; her, us, to be free to touch her, to have her, to be claimed by her. My mind was stupid with a jumble of thoughts, of things I was desperate for. And I didn’t think, barely breathed, and that primal bugger took over, moved my hands down her legs, pulled up her skirt over her hips.
I knew she was wet. She wore a thong, fuck me. A bitty strip of fabric barely covering her tight body and my fingers moved on their own, my heart pounded nearly as hard as my dick throbbed.
She was killing me.
It got worse when I cupped her. Worse still when she moaned. “Feck, McShane.” The thin fabric of her thong was in my way and so I pushed it aside, felt over those soaking lips. “You don’t want me, is it?” I slipped a finger inside her and instantly shuddered. She was so
warm. Was she gripping my finger on purpose? Was that just an instinctive reaction? I didn’t fecking care either way. God, she felt so good, so wet, and the way her body reacted, how tight she clamped around my finger, how she milked it, told me all I need to know. Didn’t want me? Those gorgeous, heavy lidded eyes and her wet heat told me that was utter shite.
“You want me,” I said. “God, how you do and I need you, love. I need to feel you wrapped around me, clutching against me. Only me. That arsehole couldn’t do this to you. You wouldn’t want him to. Not like this.” I pushed in deeper to hear that low moan of hers, but she was holding back, refusing to respond. I licked a hot path on her neck, pushed my weight on her and finally, she released a heady sigh. Morrison couldn’t get that response from her. No bleeding way could he have her purring like that. “I know you don’t want him like you want me.”
I thought she had gone over completely, that she would agree that she would stay with me, forget whatever it was I said to push her away. Right then, I wasn’t thinking about anything other than the way she felt, how she smelled, how much I wanted to keep my mouth over hers. But then, oh god, then she turned her head away. She straightened, refused my kiss.
“No, I don’t.” I knew it. I knew she didn’t want him. Pouncy bollocks could never touch Autumn like that. She took a breath, set her shoulders, then pushed me back, staggered me and I immediately missed the feel of her body squeezing around my finger. “Not yet. But I will. I swear to God I will.”
If she’d hit me, it would have hurt less. She didn’t look at me when she fixed her skirt, when her trembling fingers stumbled over unlocking the door. She was going with him. She was going to walk out of that door and be off with Morrison. She let me touch her. She let me feel her up and she was still going to walk away from me.
“You don’t love him,” I said, holding my breath, waiting to see if she’d deny that.
“I don’t love anyone, Declan.”
And as Autumn left the bathroom, she took my breath, and little bits of my heart right with her. She left me alone with the memory of her warm body and smell of her burning in my mind.
I gave Heather the Gollum speech right after that night at McKinney’s. She’d threatened Autumn, tried to make sure she stayed clear of me. Stupid woman. After that, I wouldn’t even let her in my door.
“Look, Heather, I’m not interested in you.” She blinked three times and then her eye did this weird little narrow thing that left them twitching. I’d never seen anything like it.
“What do you mean you’re not interested in me? Like, not for something serious or, what?” That’s when her hands started shaking and her lip curled.
Barking mad.
“I don’t want to date you.”
Heather’s head tilted like a dog hearing something two rooms over. But then she smiled, a little too wide and I slipped onto the front porch so she wouldn’t be tempted to sneak inside.
“We can take it slow,” she said. “I’m in no rush.”
I scrubbed my hands over my face and sighed. She wasn’t going to make this easy. So I cleared my throat to make sure there wasn’t a waver and then took her shoulders between my hands to stare at her hard. “Heather. I don’t want to date you. Not today. Not tomorrow, not ten years from now. I don’t want to fuck you. I don’t want to hang out with you or flirt with you or anything remotely similar to any of those things. If you wouldn’t mind, kindly fuck off.”
She jerked out of my grip and went for my stomach, but I stepped back, got inside before she could damage me proper. All I heard after that was her raging on about some guy on the cricket team and how she hated rugby players.
It didn’t matter to me. I was thoroughly happy to be rid of her.
For a time at least.
I’d put thoughts of that insane girl out of my head. With her not tagging behind me wherever I went, I could focus on watching over Autumn, though I knew she probably didn’t appreciate it. I kept back, stayed away from Autumn after I lost control in the bathroom at McKinney’s. I even managed to sweet talk her godmother, Dr. Winchell, into securing a first edition copy of To Kill A Mockingbird signed by Harper Lee for McShane’s birthday. That earned a few tears from her and a hug I thought might not ever end, but then her da showed up and I walked away from her to enjoy her party without my shadow.
The thing about lurking, watching, guarding her without her need or want of it, is that I’ve discovered a few things more about Autumn. First and foremost, that she really is the strongest woman I’ve ever met. Take the Dirty Dash, for example, the marathon that she and her friends trained for over the past few months. She wanted to run it to prove to herself that she was recovered from the wreck that nearly crippled her. Morrison’s disgusting bet only fueled her further and when that slimy bollocks tripped her near the finish line, she stayed in control, composed. He couldn’t touch her, not really. She still won. He was out, disqualified, and she’d accomplished what she set out to do—on her own. He tried to stop her, hurt her, but she flew above him, rose beyond his hold. Rose beyond everyone’s.
That night, I couldn’t stay away. I wanted to watch over her. Morrison isn’t the type to let things lie and so I camped outside her building, soaked from the downpour that covered the town, on guard for that bollocks. She caught me, made me come out of the weather and before too long, I stopped holding back. I stopped denying what I wanted. I forgot about Joe’s secret, though I did try to tell her. But her lips felt too good on my neck. Her fingers burned too hot on my skin, her need too great to resist, not like I wanted to resist, and finally, finally we were together, like we were meant to be; and she wrapped her legs around me, touched me, milked my dick like she needed to drain me dry. The truth was forgotten somewhere between the sweat on our bodies and the cool satin of her sheets.
I slept in her bed, holding her, smiling in my sleep as the scent of her hair, her skin drugged me. She was my addiction.
The next morning, I heard her in the shower. I’d had a taste, but it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. The silhouette of her body behind the curtain pulled me in. She looked glorious with the hot spray from the shower beating against her pale skin, marking it red. She felt better when I slipped inside with her, asked her if she was sorry what we’d gotten up to the night before.
“No. Are…are you?”
Was I sorry? Was she barmy? Touching her felt like coming home, it felt safe, warm. So I told her she was all I thought about, all I wanted. How full she made me feel, how real. But then she brushed against me, moved her clever fingers onto my arms and I buried what was bursting in my chest, what I wanted to scream to the world like a daft wanker. What I’d known for ages and couldn’t admit aloud.
I loved her.
Her back against the tiles, legs around my waist and I hit home again. Heaven. Freedom. I had it all in the palm of my hands, it surrounded me, threatened to burst forward, explode.
The room steamed, heavy with the fog of the hot water and our breaths meshing together but all I could feel was Autumn, all around me, taming me, consuming me, squeezing me until my knob ached so fecking good. “You fit me so well, Autumn,” I told her, but I didn’t just mean how her hips dipped perfectly to nestle my hands or how her tits thudded against my chest in perfect synch with my movements.
I licked the water from her skin, lapped over those beautiful pink nipples and she responded, snaking her hand up the tile behind her, bracing and opening even further to me, squeezing me so that I could barely keep upright.
She began to fall apart, eyes slamming closed, mouth working in a tremble, her nails digging into my shoulders as I moved my hips faster, but I had to see those gray eyes. I wanted to see the light shift, brighten in them when she came. “Look at me,” I whispered as though we weren’t completely alone. “I need to see you.”
“I…it’s too much.”
Autumn didn’t like losing control. She didn’t like being weak. I understood that, but that moment wasn’t a time to clo
se herself up. I knew she wanted to let go. I knew there was no way I could stop touching her, bringing her closer and closer to the brink. So I gripped her tight, went deeper into her, smoothed my hands down her arse, squeezed, dipped my finger between her cheeks. “Look at me, love.” When my finger went lower, dipped further, her eyes flew open and a slow, lazy smile made the dimples in her face deepen. “There, that’s it.”
“How are you doing that?”
I didn’t answer, not at first, too caught up in the low moans working out of her throat. “Like that, McShane?”
“Ye…yes. Oh God—”
Her body loved how we moved together, how I touched her and when she came, clamped down harder, firmer, I wanted to climb inside her, stay locked with her in that moment, just the hot air of the room and weak whines of her voice keeping us grounded to the earth. I needed her, I knew that, like I never needed anything in my life. “I want you to say my name… like you mean it,” I said, steadying her face between my fingers. “I want you staring in my eyes, looking at me while I fill you up with nothing but my name coming off your lips.” Another pound into her, then two, each harder than the last and then I lowered my voice, latched my teeth onto her earlobe. “Do you mean it, McShane?”
“I…I do,” she said, her voice cracking when I pushed deeper.
“Then say it. Say it for me, love.”
“Declan.” She said my name like a promise and anything I felt before, any hope I ever had of never looking back, fell away completely.
Yep. Definitely in love with her.
The scent and taste of her, the feel of her around me, gripping me, touching me, was my undoing and I knew I’d explode soon. My eyelids lowered, then Autumn tightened her hold on me just a bit further when she touched my face. “I need to see you too.”
