by Amy Andrews
She turned away from him, suddenly regretting letting him have his way. The quietness of the house throbbed around her and she was acutely aware that Lawson’s big strong body was very near. Her hands trembled and she couldn’t decide whether she was about to burst into tears or reach for him.
She felt a surge of jumbled emotions well in her chest and she was suddenly overwhelmingly weary. Physically and emotionally.
She yawned loudly and Lawson said, ‘Go to bed. I’ll be on the couch if you need me.’
She opened her mouth to protest his bossiness, but his mouth was set in that stubborn line she’d seen so many times before and another surge of weariness battered her defiance. Sleep. Yes. Relief for her body. And her mind.
Vic headed straight for her room not bothering to acknowledge him. She was so weary she didn’t even shower and change, just crawled onto her unmade bed and collapsed on top of her sheets. And even though it was only seven-thirty and the temptation of Lawson was mere metres away, she slept like a baby.
Lawson, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep at all. Instead he was hunkered down on Bob’s couch pretending interest in crap late-night television, occasionally checking on Victoria, who hadn’t moved from the foetal position in the centre of her bed all night.
Now the emergency was over and Victoria was out of hospital with no serious injuries, reaction had set in. The moment when she slipped replayed over and over in his mind, as did those awful seconds that had felt like hours, when she hadn’t responded to him.
And the way she’d looked as she’d emerged from the crevice. All grazed and banged up. Loose bits of her hair hanging in wet strips down her forehead, her face pale, her lips blue from the cold. His hand shook as the images flashed on his inward eye.
What if she’d broken her neck when she slipped? What if she’d got herself caught on some rocky protuberance beneath the water line? What if she’d broken a leg and hadn’t been able to move? Or the blow to her ribs had been more serious and she’d fractured them, puncturing her lung?
Lawson tried to imagine what he would have said to her father had any of those things happened to her and she’d perished in that cave. Bob, who adored his daughter and had already been through the heartbreaking loss of one woman in his life. He didn’t have the words for that.
And what about him? They’d been partners for five years. Hell, he’d known her for a lot longer than that—twenty years. And he couldn’t imagine a world without Victoria Dunleavy in it. Yes, she was leaving in seventy days and he didn’t know if he’d ever see her again, but that was different. At least he’d know she was out there in the world living her life.
Just after three the what-ifs were driving him crazy. They were exceptionally loud in the silence of the house so he got his butt off the couch and riffled around in the pantry. He could hear Victoria coughing as he located some microwave popcorn. He got it started and went to check on her.
She’d moved and was now lying spreadeagled on her back. She seemed settled, her chest movement deep and even. But the relief he felt just to see her breathing warred with less honourable thoughts, like her lack of underwear, and he got out of her room pronto.
He took the popcorn back to the couch and channel-surfed for a while. He finally found some infomercial with women wearing very little selling a natural breast augmentation product, and figured the absurd advertisement was as good a distraction as any from the horror of the pictures in his head.
Victoria continued to cough intermittently and nothing could divert him from wondering if they’d missed something at the hospital. He was about to go and check on her again when she appeared in the doorway.
‘Hi.’
Lawson almost inhaled a kernel of corn. He coughed and spluttered to clear his airway. ‘Jeez, you scared me,’ he said after he’d recovered.
‘ I seem to be doing that a lot today,’ she murmured as she sat on the end of the sofa next to him and dipped her hand into the popcorn. ‘I’m starving.’
‘How are you feeling?’ He watched as she stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth. ‘Apart from starving.’
With some sleep under her belt she felt a hundred per cent better than she had earlier. Invigorated and much more emotionally stable. ‘Sore,’ she said around her mouthful of food. ‘I just took some painkillers.’
‘You’ve got a nasty bruise there. It’ll be sore for a few days.’ He grabbed her closest hand and inspected the grazes on her palm, tracing the nearest one lightly with his forefinger. ‘They must sting too.’
Vic looked down at his long finger against her injured palm. It grew warm and started to tingle. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the graze or just the way he affected her. She pulled her hand away. ‘It’ll be worse tomorrow.’
She burrowed her fingers in the bowl and stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth. The flicker of the television caught her eye and her gaze was drawn to the colourful images of several well-endowed bikiniclad women. ‘Lawson Dunlop,’ she mused. ‘What on earth are you watching?’
Lawson turned his attention to the television and cringed inwardly for a second. ‘Oh, just some ridiculous infomercial,’ he said, reaching for the remote and flicking it off.
‘Oh, no,’ Vic said, snatching it off him, wincing a little as her palms protested. ‘I’ve gotta see this.’ She flicked it back on and turned the volume up.
Lawson rolled his eyes, uncomfortable to be caught watching something that was so far removed from his normal viewing it was laughable. ‘It was just on as background noise.’
‘Sure, sure.’ Vic grinned.
He squirmed in his seat as the over-the-top extended advert extolled the virtues of its product. Women with obviously surgically enhanced assets paraded around in skimpy clothes demonstrating how the cream worked.
Vic was laughing so hard she had to hold her side. ‘Didn’t realise you were a breast man, Lawson.’
Lawson frowned. ‘I’m not.’
Vic raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’
Lawson had had enough. He reached for the remote, but she snatched it away. ‘This is not a very appropriate conversation for two work colleagues to be having.’
Vic sobered. Was that truly the way he saw her? Always? ‘But we’re not. Not tonight. We’re just two old friends who’ve known each other for donkey’s years.’
‘Exactly. I’m not talking about this with someone who I used to babysit.’
There it was again. He kept doing that and it was driving her mad. Making her feel like a kid and he was the adult. That might have been so twenty years ago, but it wasn’t now.
She felt sufficiently goaded to push a little. ‘So…they don’t do it for you?’
‘Victoria.’
‘Oh, come on.’ She nudged him in the ribs. ‘I could have died today. Cut me some slack. I’m curious.’
Lawson shook his head. ‘I don’t believe you just played the near-death card.’
Vic grinned. ‘Shameless, aren’t I?’ She watched his face, intense in the half-light, the play of light from the flickering television dancing over the forbidding planes. She raised an eyebrow. ‘Well?’
He sighed. ‘Of course I like breasts.’ He looked away, not quite able to meet her in the eye as he’d hoped. ‘I’m a man, aren’t I?’
‘What about bums and legs?’
‘Yes, Victoria. Them too.’
‘Do you have a preference?’
Lawson squirmed in his seat. ‘No. I love all of a woman’s body. Equally. Any man who has a preference is getting laid too much for his own good.’ He turned back to face her. ‘There. Satisfied?’
Vic blinked. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Lawson say the word laid to her—ever. Not that she thought he was a saint. He no doubt used more colourful language around his male co-workers, but he’d always been totally circumspect with his language in her presence. It was kind of dirty and the temperature raised a degree or two.
She looked away, her eyes seeking the telev
ision, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze.
Satisfied? Absolutely not.
She glanced at the television, suddenly a little depressed. She looked at her own small assets, even less impressive without the uplifting support of a bra. Maybe this was why Lawson had never looked at her in any other than a strictly professional way. Maybe it was why he never saw her as a woman.
‘Maybe I could use some miracle cream myself,’ she said forlornly. She turned to him and puffed her chest out. ‘What do you think?’
Lawson dared not look, stuffing popcorn into his mouth instead. ‘They’re fine.’
Vic let them deflate. ‘They’re only B cups,’ she lamented.
‘They’re fine,’ he repeated, staring at a point on the wall.
Really? Lance obviously hadn’t thought they were fine. Why else had he looked elsewhere? To the Kathys of the world. Maybe that was why she hadn’t been a raging success at relationships—maybe she just wasn’t desirable enough? She hung out with guys at work; she was surrounded by males at home; she wore overalls four out of seven days, for crying out loud.
Maybe she just wasn’t feminine enough. Maybe if she had a bigger chest more men would notice she wasn’t just one of the guys? Maybe Lawson would.
Vic rolled her head towards him. He wasn’t even interested enough to look at her. ‘You’re not even looking,’ she muttered.
He was just humouring her, as he used to when she was little. And after her scare this afternoon she wasn’t in any mood to be humoured. She wasn’t a girl any more. Surely he could see that? A well of emotion rose in her chest and lodged in her throat. It stung her eyes and snatched at her breath.
Lawson clenched his jaw. If he didn’t get away from her now he was going to do more than look. He pushed himself off the couch and stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘Victoria, I think you should go back to bed.’
Tears blurred in her eyes as pure frustration drove her to her feet. She ignored the pain that tore at her side. The one building in her chest was far greater. ‘Why do you do that?’ she demanded huskily.
Lawson eyed her warily. Her whiskey gaze was glassy and he had an awful feeling she was about to cry. And how the hell could he resist that? ‘Do what?’
A tear escaped and she dashed it away. ‘Treat me like I’m still a child. Like I don’t have the right to have a perfectly adult conversation with a man.’
He took a step towards her. ‘Victoria, please don’t cry.’
She screwed up her face and shook her head, determined to hold back the flood of tears although her chest was a dam wall at bursting point. ‘Just answer the question, damn it.’
The question? What was the bloody question? He backtracked for a moment. ‘I don’t,’ he dismissed. ‘Treat you like you’re a child.’ God knew, he’d been having a really difficult time this last year remembering she’d ever been a child.
Vic opened her eyes and let the build-up of emotion ease out a little. She snorted. ‘You’re doing it again.’ Tears trickled down both sides of her face and she didn’t care. ‘Talking at me like I’m some little kid you can just dismiss out of hand.’
He felt totally helpless watching her tears. He was torn between pulling her close and getting the hell out of the house. He raked a hand through his spiky hair and took a step back. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Vic choked out a sob. ‘Try me.’
Lawson shut his eyes briefly, wishing he were anywhere but here. ‘I’m not just any random man you can have a conversation about breasts with. I’m your partner.’
His partner. There it was again. ‘Oh, God,’ she wailed. ‘I’m a woman, damn it. Can’t you see that? A grown, adult woman. I know to you I’m just…Bob’s daughter, Ryan and Josh’s sister…another paramedic at the station, your colleague, but…’ She scrubbed at her face, brushing away the tears. ‘I. Am. A. Woman.’ She poked herself in the chest to emphasise each word.
Vic felt half crazy. Her heart ached so much it burned like a molten chunk of metal in her chest. She wiped at her eyes with the heels of her palms. Goodness knew, she must look a right state.
Lawson was staring at her as if she’d grown a second head. ‘You’ve never seen me as a woman. I’m just Vic. Good old Vic. Someone to babysit and get the gurney for you. Not beautiful or desirable. Not female. Just one of the boys.’
‘No.’ The admission was torn from him. He knew he shouldn’t have given it voice, but he couldn’t bear to witness her pain. What the hell was she talking about? Not desirable? Not beautiful? Standing here in the flickering light of the television, fragile and vulnerable before him, he wanted her so much it scared him.
He took a step closer and grasped her by the shoulders. ‘Do you know the first thing I thought today when you slipped on the rocks? When you screamed and the rope went taut?’ Lawson shut his eyes briefly as the horrifying memory revisited.
Vic was conscious of the rasp to his voice and their closeness. His hands on her skin, their bodies separated by a whisper of air. She watched as his lids fluttered open again, her heart pistoning in her chest as she waited for him to continue. If anything, waiting for his words was more terrifying than being cold, frightened and disorientated for those horrifying few seconds underwater.
‘All I could think was that I hadn’t ever got the chance to kiss you. To…touch you.’ The air felt like soup as Lawson dragged in a breath.
Vic’s heart danced a wild flutter in her chest at his startling admission. He’d thought about kissing her…touching her? ‘You’ve kissed me plenty,’ she murmured absently, trying to compute what he’d just said. Impersonal pecks on the cheek as hellos and thank-yous and happy birthdays. Friend kisses. Buddy kisses.
Lawson heard the huskiness in her voice. ‘Not like this, I haven’t.’ And on a muffled curse, not giving himself time to think better of it, he yanked her closer and mashed his lips onto hers.
It was no gentle, tentative, feeling-the-waters, first-kiss type of kiss. It was hot and heavy in a flash, as if they’d been a powder keg just waiting for a match. Lawson led and Victoria followed. He demanded entry into the heat of her mouth and groaned as her hands snaked around his neck and her tongue invited him inside.
He rode it, letting the sensation wash through him, succumbing to its power for a few magical moments suspended in time before common sense returned and he wrenched his mouth away with a level of self-control he hadn’t even known he possessed. His hands grasped her upper arms, holding her at a distance.
Their breath was harsh in his ears. ‘You are a beautiful, desirable woman. Don’t think for a moment that I’m not aware of it.’ He dropped his arms and took a deliberate step back, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.
Vic felt the impact of his words deep down low as if he’d licked her belly. He might have moved away, but he was looking at her mouth with a gaze that was stormy with lust and struggle. He did desire her; she could see that. Even if he didn’t want to.
A crazy plan reared its head and she swallowed, wondering if she had the courage to put it into action. Certainly her awful fright this afternoon made her feel bolder than she ever had and Lawson’s kiss had definitely set a tantalising precedent.
But Lawson was so strong. Already she could see his stormy gaze being pulled under control as he mentally withdrew from her, from his actions. Could she bear it if her seduction fell flat? If he rejected her out of his strong sense of honour and propriety?
But his chest still rose with breaths that sounded as if they were being dragged from him and he was looking at her mouth again as if he wanted to devour it. She licked her lips, savouring the taste of him. There was butter and salt and man. And she wanted more.
She took a deep breath and stepped into his space. ‘So why stop?’
‘Because it’s crazy, that’s why.’ He was captivated by the way her tongue travelled across her already moist lips. It didn’t help his breathing settle or calm the roaring pulse beat in his head. ‘Jeez. I
went to your mother’s funeral. You were eight.’
She ran her fingers down his forearm and tentatively lifted his hand. She prepared herself for resistance but when none came she grew more daring, placing his palm over her breast. It couldn’t compete with the women still cavorting on the television screen, but it was aching for his touch.
‘I’m not eight any more. I haven’t been for a long time.’
Lawson swallowed. Hard. Her breast was soft beneath his hand, the nipple pressing into the centre of his palm obviously aroused. ‘Victoria,’ he groaned.
‘Lawson,’ she whispered, stepping closer again, desperate to persuade him, not strong enough to handle him withdrawing from her now. ‘I get that you do everything with measured caution and that this is a little out of the ordinary.’
She moved closer still so his hand was hard against her softness, her nipple unbearably tight. ‘But can you just, for once, just today, be thankful that we’re both here and just go with what you really want to do?’
Lawson felt the graze of her nipple as she rubbed against his palm and he squeezed the flesh involuntarily. ‘No. This is wrong.’ He stared at his hand covering her flesh, at her mouth. ‘I don’t want this,’ he denied in a voice that was so husky with desire he was for sure about to be struck down by a lightning bolt for his obvious lie.
Her fear of rejection melted in an instant at his denial. She could hear how much he wanted her, wanted this, in the way his voice trembled. In the way he looked at her mouth.
‘It’s okay. I want it enough for both of us.’ And she raised herself up, confident for the first time since she’d started just how much he actually desired her. She twined her hands around his neck and kissed him again.
Her lips teased his, her tongue stroking along the seam of his closed mouth, begging for access, and his resistance lasted about ten seconds before he opened to her on a groan that must have come all the way from his toes. The kiss was deep and wet as he unleashed a torrent of passion that left them both clinging to each other. He grasped her face in his hands and plunged his tongue into her mouth as she met him with equal ardour.
