Hannah was the opposite. She’d curled herself up in an armchair with a new book and was successfully blocking us all out.
Dinner was delicious. We had the works—soup, a big old fat turkey, three different kinds of potatoes, steamed vegetable goodness and gravy, followed by profiteroles and a chocolate pudding. We had lots of wine with dinner and little cappuccinos afterwards.
By the time Braden and I left just before midnight, I could barely walk I was so stuffed full of food. I also felt irritably overheated from all the wine. Once in the flat I stomped down the hall to our bedroom, listening to Braden’s footsteps as he followed me. I turned around to face him as he came through the doorway, and I yanked my sweater off, throwing it on the floor. I patted my slightly-rounded stomach and then popped the top button on my jeans with a huge relieved sigh.
I flopped back on the bed, my arms and legs spread wide. I eyed him and offered magnanimously, “I’ve had a lot of food but if you don’t jiggle me too much you can have your wicked way with me.”
Braden laughed, strolling slowly over to the bed, peeling his coat off and placing it on a nearby chair. He crossed his arms over his chest as he stopped directly above me. “I think that’s possibly the sexiest offer I’ve ever gotten.”
I grunted at his sarcasm. “Look, this elf is almost done for the day so if you want me to fly the North Pole before I fall asleep it’s got to be now.”
He laughed even harder, almost choking on it as he reached up and pulled the zip down on my jeans. I felt him tug them from the hem of each leg. He whipped them off with practiced efficiency.
I raised my arms to him with a sleepy smile and he slid his arms under me, picking me up and pulling the bedcovers down in one smooth motion. Gently he rested me back on the bed and pulled the covers up to my chin.
Confused, I watched through blurry eyes as he began to undress. “No flying the North Pole?”
Braden grinned. “Not tonight, babe.”
“I’m not sexy?”
“You’re always sexy. You’re also drunk and stuffed full. I don’t think you can take any more.”
“But I want another stocking filler.” My eyes drifted shut and I felt the bed move as Braden slid in beside me, his arm coming around my waist to pull me close.
“It’s Boxing Day tomorrow. I’ll give you four stocking fillers,” he promised.
My eyes popped open. “By stocking fillers we mean orgasms right?”
His breath huffed on my neck. “Right.”
I smiled and closed my eyes, snuggling against him. “Best. Day. Ever.”
Braden made a low sound of agreement as his lips brushed my shoulder. “Merry Christmas, babe.”
9
Cam’s POV - The Party
DOWN LONDON ROAD
So much for breaking things off, Cam thought sourly as he pretended to listen to one of Becca’s pretentious friends.
After the moment in his kitchen with Jo, the feel of her skin on his tongue, the warm press of her body against his, he’d been determined to have more. To have it all. No matter what lies Jo tried to tell herself.
First on the agenda was to break up with Becca but his resolve had wavered when he got to her flat and saw how excited she was to see him. Fuck, it was her birthday. He couldn’t break up with her on her birthday.
He’d give her tonight and then he’d break it off tomorrow.
With that in mind Cam planned to avoid his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend until then. He didn’t want to lead her on but he also didn’t want her to realize there was something up. It was one messed up situation.
He was nodding along, not really paying attention to a guy who kept talking about money, when the hair on his neck rose. Bloody well sensing her, that was how attuned he was to her, Cam turned his head and caught sight of Jo walking into the party on Malcolm’s arm.
The breath whooshed out of him as he took her in.
She wasn’t dressed how she usually dressed for her older, wealthy boyfriend. Gone were the designer dresses. She wore a tight mini-skirt that showed off her long, fantastic fucking legs, a pair of casual winter boots, a printed T-shirt and a fur jacket.
She looked her age. Urban. Sexy. And totally Jo.
He had to wonder at the change because she certainly wasn’t dressing up for Malcolm in that get-up.
“Cam! Come say hello!” Becca shouted over to him and he realized his girlfriend had been talking to the couple and he was so busy staring at Jo he hadn’t even noticed.
Fuck.
Approaching them with an ugly burn of jealousy in his gut, Cam felt that jealousy darken to anger as Malcolm murmured something against Jo’s lips that made her giggle in a way that was fake. He fucking hated that fucking fake giggle.
If she was his, Jo would never have to fake anything ever again in order to keep him by her side. He wanted her for who she really was and it pissed him off that money could mean more to her than that. It pissed him off that he could care about someone who would put money before what really mattered.
Shit!
“Uh hullo, need a room much?” Becca chuckled as Jo and Malcolm finally looked up from each other.
Cam couldn’t even hide his fury as his eyes clashed with Jo’s beautiful green ones. To his relief he saw the turmoil in them and knew Jo was uncomfortable as hell. Cam was determined to make her more so if it meant pulling her gorgeous head out of her tight arse.
“Oh Cam, Sondra and Jerry have just walked in,” Becca said excitedly, like he was supposed to know who the hell those people were, “Come say hello with me.”
There was nothing he could do but be dragged away and he had to force himself to tear his eyes off Jo before he gave his feelings away.
Unfortunately, Cam had to endure standing with Malcolm and Jo not much later. Becca drew him into a huddle with them and another couple whose names he couldn’t remember. He tried to concentrate. He tried to detach and be cool. But every time that rich fuck put his hand on Jo’s arse or she touched his cheek in affection, laughing at his inane bloody jokes, Cam wanted to punch someone. Preferably Malcolm who was so obviously using Jo.
This guy didn’t know Jo. The real her. They’d been dating months and he wasn’t even trying to know her. And as for Jo… well… she stood there and agreed with shit the man said that Cam knew for a fact she didn’t agree with because she told him her real opinions on politics and the economy and art.
But she just stood there, nodding along to everything Malcolm said, and the moron never questioned it. He didn’t want to question it. All he cared about was having a stunning twenty-two year old in his bed.
Suddenly, the thought of Jo having sex with this guy made Cam’s vision almost blacken with jealousy. He’d never felt jealousy before. He had no goddamn clue it burned this badly.
They lost each other’s company when Becca moved him onto another crowd of guests but Cam surreptitiously watched Jo throughout the evening, that jealousy taking him to the edge of reason. Possessiveness clouded his rational mind and it was what made him follow her when he saw her leave the room solo and head to the bathroom.
The bathroom was at the front entrance and there was no one else around to witness… anything.
Mind only on confronting her, forcing her to admit she was living a lie, Cam followed, pushing the bathroom door open when she tried to shut it behind her. He stepped inside and she stumbled back from him, wide-eyed with surprise.
He not only shut the door behind him, he locked it.
Seething with anger and emotional and sexual frustration he fried her arse to the wall with his glare.
“What are you doing?” she gestured nervously to the door. “Someone could have seen you.”
“Malcolm you mean.”
“Or Becca,” she hissed. “Remember her? Your girlfriend?”
And there it was. The jealousy she couldn’t hide burning in her eyes. Good. Thank fucking Christ he wasn’t the only one losing his mind.
His skin was hot and tight
with need and that coiling tension low in his belly only grew tighter with want as he dragged his gaze down her body. Every inch of her was beautiful and he could only imagine how much more beautiful she’d look naked and spread out on his bed. Finally he looked into her eyes. “You look gorgeous tonight. I’ve never seen you like this.”
Her skin flushed and he saw the flash of need in her eyes as the tension between them mounted.
“Let me out of here, Cameron.”
The hot blood flowing toward his dick rushed there at the sound of his name on her lips but he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and stepped aside.
He had every intention of letting her go.
But her perfume licked at his senses and he remembered that as soon as she walked out there she was walking out to Malcolm.
Fuck that.
Cam needed to show her what she would be missing if she made the wrong choice.
Before Jo could touch the lock he turned her as he shoved her up against the bathroom door, pressing his body into hers and feeling lust shiver down his spine at the feel of soft curves against all his hardness. Wanting her to be aware of nothing but him, he braced his hands on the door at either side of her head, barricading her in.
“Wha—”
“Hush,” he shut her up gently and saw her eyes heat with desire she couldn’t bloody hide. Triumphant, he dropped his hands to rest them on her slim waist. “You feel this too. You’ve felt it since the night we met.”
Something like pleasure, joy, mixed with guilt and confusion in her stunning eyes. Her chest was rising and falling in shallow breaths, her body giving the truth away. She wanted him. And when she licked her lips, Cam lost all control.
He captured those lips, lips he’d fantasized about, in a deep wet kiss that left no questions about how much he wanted to fuck her. Jesus, he wanted to fuck her so hard he imprinted on her. Owned her. Like she bloody well owned him.
Maybe, by the enthusiastic way she kissed him back, he already did.
Needing to touch her, he coasted his hand up the slender curve of her waist and deliberately swept his thumb against the underside of her breast.
Just that little touch and it sent Jo off like a firecracker. He had no choice but to catch fire too.
Her arms curled tight around his neck, her body pressed harder against his until they were grinding against each other. Her moan slid down his throat and his dick somehow got impossibly harder.
“I’ve fantasized a million times about this,” he confessed hoarsely before kissing her breathless again.
Feeling her undulate against his erection, Cam groaned, needing more. Needing to feel that sweet heat between her legs. He slid his hand up her inner thigh, waiting a moment and when she moaned and kissed him harder, he took it as permission to slip his fingers beneath her knickers.
She was dripping. Fucking soaked.
Jo cried out against his mouth as he finger fucked her and his dick strained painfully. Vision of unzipping his jeans and thrusting his cock into her tight heat made him shudder with need. Shit! He broke the kiss, panting for breath, “If we don’t stop, I’m going to fuck you right here.”
When her body suddenly locked, Cam lifted his head from her neck and took in her expression.
Goddamn it.
Reality intruded at seeing the guilt and shame on her beautiful face. Fuck. Fuck! He never wanted her to feel that between them. “Jo…” he slipped his fingers out of her body and she shook her head frantically, trying to push him away.
Tears trembled in her words, “We can’t do this. What are we doing?”
What they were doing was right. It was just useless bloody timing! “I’m ending it with Becca. Tonight.” And suddenly realized he meant it. Her birthday or not, he couldn’t be this guy. He wasn’t this guy.
Seeing Jo’s appalled expression he winced. “I know. It’s shit. But I can’t go on like this. I’m not the guy who cheats on his girlfriend. And I can’t continue to be the guy who fucks his girlfriend wishing all the time she was someone else.”
Confusion blazed at him from her eyes.
Confusion?! Was she kidding?
“Cam, I…”
Feeling her pull away, desperation clawed at him. “You want this. I know you do.” He pressed his forehead to hers, wanting to be close but knowing anything else would push her away. He took a breath, afraid to ask what he needed to ask her but more afraid not to, “Will you leave Malcolm?”
Jo immediately froze against him and he felt his grip on her tighten at the idea of her fleeing. “Johanna?”
Her silence said it all.
Anger, disbelief, disappointment like he’d never felt in his goddamn life ripped through him so violently he shook with it. “You’re telling me you’re going to stay with that guy? You’re going to go through the rest of your life standing at his side at a party laughing that stupid bloody fake giggle, with your eyes contradicting your mouth every time it opens?”
Unable to bear the idea that he could feel this way about someone who wasn’t even strong enough to fight for what she really wanted, Cam pushed away from her. Where was the fire in her belly he knew existed because he’d seen it when she stood up for her little brother? Where was that Jo? “That girl you were out there is not Jo. I don’t know who that is but she’s an arse who pisses me off. She’s fake, she’s simpering and she’s a fucking bimbo. She’s not you.”
Hurt flared in her expression and he felt that like a punch to the gut. But he wouldn’t take the words back because unfortunately they were the truth. Cam waited, hoping that brutal honesty would wake her the fuck up.
But she just stared at him, mute with longing and confusion.
Confusion.
He wasn’t confused.
He knew exactly what he wanted.
And the fact that Jo even had to think about it meant she didn’t feel about him the way he felt about her.
Hurt, furious, he let it all show in one awful look before he forced her to move aside as he unlocked the door and threw it open.
Cam strode out into the party, a part of him hating Jo a little for making him feel something he’d never felt in his entire life, and then refusing to admit she felt it too.
For money.
Jesus fuck.
One thing was for certain though, he needed to get out of this party and he needed to do it a free man. He searched the room, looking for Becca. When he found her, guilt stalked his every step toward her. She would hate him for this. She’d forever remember him as the shitty bastard who broke up with her at her birthday party but Cam couldn’t stay here and when he left he needed to know he left, freeing both him and Becca from the lie that was their relationship.
Maybe it would wake Jo up.
He cursed to himself at the thought, realizing even as he’d stormed away from Johanna, he hadn’t given up.
As much as his blood boiled with anger, frustration and hurt, he knew deep down he couldn’t give up on her.
No.
And he never would.
She’d seeped into his blood and dug herself in deep.
One day Johanna Walker would be his. He’d get what he wanted. And Jo, she’d finally get to be who she really was. And who she was, who she really was, was fucking magnificent. Someone just had to show her that.
That someone would be him.
10
Johanna - The Cut Prologue
DOWN LONDON ROAD
Paisley, Glasgow
There is a big glass window between him and me. I don’t really know how I can feel so much for him when there’s loads of space between us but I do. I am sure of that. His name is Cole. He’s kind of funny-looking but then all the other babies around him are kind of funny-looking too. I don’t care if Cole’s funny-looking. I love him.
Love. I press my nose against the glass. I see that word everywhere. In Mrs. Mitchell’s class on her ‘Feelings Board’; on my TV programs, in the books I get from the library when mum can be bothered ta
king me. Love. I know I love my mum. She’s not around a lot and sometimes when she is she says mean things, but she’s my mum. When she hugs me I feel better.
I don’t love my dad. I think I might hate my dad but last time I said that my mum got really mad at me. But I don’t love him. The days he decides to show up he’s always shoving me out the way, or worse hitting me, or pulling me by the hair. He does the same to mum. She lets him. And she lets him have sex with her. I told my friend Natasha that I heard these weird noises coming from their bedroom and she said that was them having sex. She told me what sex is. It sounds gross.
Really gross. But Natasha said it made Cole. And whatever I feel about my dad, I feel the opposite about Cole. I love him. I really love him. I think I really know what that word means now.
He’s got no hair and he’s got huge eyes. Tiny hands. Tiny feet. Tiny. It scares me how tiny he is. I’m the tallest girl in my class but Natasha’s the smallest and she always gets hurt more easily than I do because people think they can push her around. The nurse told me Cole came out of mum too early but that he’s going to be okay. Mum’s sleeping. She told me to go see Cole while she slept. Dad’s still not here yet even though the nurse said she’d phoned him.
I don’t want dad to turn up anyway. I don’t want him near Cole. I don’t want his big hands slapping Cole or punching him in the stomach like he did to me last time. When Cole is watching cartoons and dad wants to switch the channel I’ll take Cole away before dad can use his fist to make the point that the TV is his. Only time he doesn’t lift his hands to me is when Uncle Mick is around. He’s not really my uncle. But he’s nice to me and dad listens to him. I think Uncle Mick would be mad if he knew dad hit me. I didn’t tell him because I was scared but I’ve got Cole now. I’ll have to tell Uncle Mick if dad tries to hit Cole. I don’t care what dad does to me for tattling on him.
On Dublin Street: The Bonus Material Page 8
