Zara Stoneley

by Love Is a Four Letter Word

  “Maybe not.” Normally this was the part when he walked. But she’d made it his business, when she’d brought the man onto the land. His land. “So you weren’t,” he paused, “tied up with him?”

  Her brown gaze met his, then she glanced down at her fingers, then back up. “A bit tricky with that many miles between us.”

  “Georgie.”

  She sighed. “Well, he did text when he landed, and he did ask me to send some info to him.” She shrugged. “That’s all. We’re working on something together, if you must know. Now, can we just forget him?”

  “Fine, it’s nothing to do with me.”

  “And I had other stuff to do, I have got a life you know.”

  “What are you doing here?” He leant back against his bike, a slightly sullen, hurt expression sat on her features and it shouldn’t have been there. It should be him that was angry, not her.

  “I live here.”

  “Georgie.”

  “Okay.” Her long legs covered the distance between them and she flung one effortlessly over the bike, leant forward and rested her forehead on her slim hands. “Sorry.” The muffled word came out with an effort then she slowly straightened and stared at him.

  “How come you’re not in the main house?” One step at a time, slowly or she’d be backing off.

  “Alfie put it out on long term rent after we moved.” She slowly stroked along the engine, her pale fingers and scarlet nails a sharp contrast against the black. Black and colour, hard and oh so soft. “But he sorted the apartment for me when I said I wanted to come back.” She took a deep breath, but the dark gaze never wavered from his face. “They’d have done anything to get me out of their hair for a while, I’m a bad influence on their sweet little kids.” The laugh was humourless.

  “I bet.” He felt an urge to lean forward, kiss her, but resisted.

  “They’ve tried to keep as a big a distance between us as they can.” She shrugged. “Hence the boarding school, finishing school, blah, blah, blah.”

  “Art college?”

  “Yup, Art college.”

  He could almost see the defensive cloak wrap around her as though she was expecting an attack. “But?”

  “But I’m still supposed to be under their control, do exactly what they want.”

  Which explained the bad behaviour he supposed, defiance at a distance. “And what do they want, Georgie? Is it really that bad?”

  “Oh yeah, now they’ve paid for me to look the part I’m supposed to serve them, worse than the bloody Stepford Wives.”

  He couldn’t help it, he laughed. “I’d love to see a submissive version of you.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “Not even if I tie you down?” He couldn’t help himself, even though he’d sworn to himself that he’d keep his hands off her for once.

  “I envied you at school, you know.” She turned her head to look at him, those big dark eyes wide with the little girl lost look she’d had after they’d had sex on his bike. The look he hadn’t been able to shake when he’d lain in bed at night.

  “Me? Now there’s a turn up.”

  “You always did exactly what you wanted.” She was staring at him, through him, as though she was looking into the past.

  “Not always a good thing.”

  “But you had fun.”

  “Are you having fun? Winding your dad up, are you really doing what you want?”

  “It’s better than doing what he wants.”

  “So you keep saying, but I’m not convinced.”

  She huffed and changed tack. “Why are you here, Jake?”

  “I asked first.” He’d asked and still not got any answers, but he would. “You wouldn’t answer my calls.” He slid down, his back against the bike, sat on the gravel which was safer than being so close to her. Until she joined him.

  She sighed. “I swear Alfie has people watching me, he just knew Sly was here. I’m sure he did. He’s got this sixth sense for when I’m doing something he might not like, so he kept bothering me and asking me what I was doing.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you ditched the phone.”

  “Yup.”

  “I don’t blame him as far as that character goes.”

  “You don’t know him. He’s nice.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “And he’s a brilliant artist, he—”

  “I thought we weren’t talking about him?”

  “What happened to the bad boy who did whatever he liked?” She was grinning at him, teasing, sending a rush of blood southwards.

  “Is that what you thought I was? Not just a teenager pissed off with the world?”

  “You once told me to lighten up and go get what I wanted, rather than just watching and waiting.”

  “Did I?” He remembered. It wasn’t often he’d dared stop and speak to her, but she’d looked so sad that day. Impossible to ignore, as she’d watched him from under that big fringe, stared with those dark solemn eyes.

  She nodded.

  “And did you?”

  “I asked you if that was what you did, do you remember what you said?”

  He remembered, it was like a video tape he could replay at will. Her soft question had needled him. That genuine interest, which he knew had to be from her own desperate need, not because she cared. It had scared him.

  “You said,” she played with the gravel, letting it drop from her fingers back to the ground, “you needed fuck all. Wanting was for morons. All you were bothered about was living for the moment.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “I was still hoping you’d be that bad boy.” She grinned. “You’re turning into a bit of a disappointment, mister boring and sensible.”

  “You aren’t,” he reached out, brushed her hair back behind her ear, and the pure softness of her skin beneath his fingertips tightened his throat, “a disappointment.” He leant forward and that unique mix of soap, perfume and something that was just her worked its magic on his body. “The good girl who quietly watched.”

  “And learned.” She gasped as his lips found her neck and then she was scrabbling to her feet. Hell. “Not here.” There was a tremble in the words, but he knew that tremor, the one that came from deep inside. Want. Need. She was stepping back, pulling at his hand, leading him round to the side of the house. Through a door he barely noticed.

  It was an automatic reaction to pin her hands ups above her head, one of his hands easily holding both slim wrists. He slowly stroked down her body, taking in each gentle curve. “He has gone, hasn’t he?”

  “Yes.” She breathed out the word, ran her tongue over full lips.

  “Did you—”

  “He was only here an hour. Please—”

  “What happened between you and him?” He watched his thumb as he traced a circle round her hardening nipple, felt the nub firm underneath her thin top. Watched as her breasts rose and fell with each breath.

  “It was a long time ago. Jake don’t—”

  “I need to know. Is he back to stay?” The dip of her waist was warm against his palm, her skin so soft as he slipped his hand under the top, her whimper sending a new rush of blood to his already swollen cock. “Georgie?”

  She shifted her weight, leaned into his touch, her thighs parting. “I need his help.”

  It had to be disappointment, it couldn’t be anything else, the hollow that opened up deep inside him. “Then you don’t need mine.” He let his hand drop away from the tempting warmth.

  “Jake.”

  He shook his head. “Using your money is one thing, but.” He let his gaze drift over the perfect body and he couldn’t say it. The Georgie he knew wouldn’t have slept her way to a solution, the Georgie he’d wanted back then and wanted even more now.

  “Jake.”

  “No.” He let go of her wrists, shoved his hand slowly, deep into his pocket. He’d sort it out, he’d raise the money Rowena wanted, and if he couldn’t he’d walk. Far, far away from all of this. But u
ntil then Georgie Hampton and her grubby little artist weren’t laying a foot on his land. Seeing them together once had been bad enough, knowing she was going back for a repeat performance left an emptiness he couldn’t label.

  “Wait, what about our deal?”

  “I don’t do deals with people I—” Don’t trust? Don’t respect? Or just can’t bear to be with any longer? He didn’t know which, and he didn’t want to voice any of them. He stepped back. Leaving would be a good idea, like right now. Before he let rip and said something he’d regret.

  “Jake you’ve got to listen to me.” She was running behind him, tugging at his arm, but he just kept straight on going. Got on his bike, tried to ignore the hand grabbing at his helmet as he went to put it on, the tear streaked face. The tears stopped him dead. She’d not made a sound, so he knew they were real.

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Please, please just listen.”

  He stared at the slim hand resting on his helmet, long elegant fingers, nails chipped from working with the horses. “I used to admire you, you know.”

  Georgie stopped dead, let go of the helmet she was clutching like it was a lifeline. Nobody admired her. Oh yeah, some people would like her for her money, but that was it. “I came back here, Jake because I didn’t know where else to go.”

  He put the helmet down in front of her, his gaze fixed on it.

  “Carol hates any reminder of Dad’s old life, and I’m a bloody big reminder. I can’t do anything right, I’m the devil’s spawn.” She knew the laugh was a bit maniacal, but she couldn’t help it. “I didn’t come back here to ruin your life Jake. I came back for some space, some time to think. But when I saw you it reminded me, then that stupid patch of land reminded me even more. I should go, I don’t belong here now, you’re right.”

  “What did it remind you?” His voice still had a hard edge to it, unrelenting. But he wasn’t moving. He was giving her a chance. One chance.

  “I’d forgotten what it was like before Mum left. It all happened so fast, the packing up, the leaving. I’d even forgotten what Dad used to be like.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, she mustn’t sound sorry for herself. She had to tell it like it was. “They weren’t nasty to me or anything, but they sent me away to school and I hated it. I was homesick and I thought that I’d never see them again.” She’d not really thought of it properly, but looking back she could see now how scared she’d been, scared of being left alone. If she was honest, Carol had never been anything but kind – in her own way. But she’d been insistent. Georgina had to stay at the school, and everything would be fine. Except it hadn’t been fine, because all she could think of was getting home. Getting home and checking that her father hadn’t left her. That the whole family had sold up and moved away without even letting her know. In her mind it had been Carol’s fault. Not her mother’s for leaving her in the first place, but Carol who was going to take her father from her in exactly the same way another man had taken her mother. And they didn’t understand, didn’t know she was scared. No one knew, not even her. “I reckon I was bad just so I’d get expelled, then I could go home. I think maybe I thought if I didn’t then they’d just leave too.” Her mother had left, just like that, one day there then next day gone. What was there to stop Alfie and Carol doing the same? “I got crap grades, but I got in at Art college, which was great.”

  “Until you met the wonderful Sly.” Bitter did just not cover the tone of his voice.

  “It was just a bit of fun that went too far, but I got thrown out when a group of students came into the room we were, erm, posing in.”

  “You were having an orgy in a classroom?” He looked at her then, for the first time.

  “Not exactly an orgy, just the three of us. Anyway, after that they just wanted to force me to work for them.”

  “Doing?”

  “They just want me to look pretty and entertain their clients like some upmarket hooker.” She sighed, or maybe it was all they could think of that she could do. After all, that was how Carol had met Alfie. Working for him. Maybe to her it looked a good prospect, not the boring trap of tedium that Georgie saw it.

  Jake raised an eyebrow, so she ignored that bit. If she lost her temper now, something told her he’d walk. And she didn’t want him to walk. Even if he was an over opinionated arrogant bossy boots. “It’s boring and pointless, well it’s got a point for them like I do the dirty work and get people interested in throwing money their way. And then do you know what they want?” He just looked, but at least he was still there.

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “They want to set me up with some stupid city wanker so I’m out of their hair and bored out of my brain for the rest of my life.”

  “Maybe they just want you to settle down a bit.”

  Which had too much of a ring of truth about it for her to feel comfortable. “Oh yeah, I’m sure if they still could they’d shove me on a boat and send me to Australia.”

  He laughed, and strangely enough it didn’t get her back up. It made her smile. “Maybe they’re worried about you, Georgie. Why not join the family firm? You’d be set up and you could still have fun, do your own thing.”

  “No way.”

  “I don’t get why you want to make life difficult, why you have to set off on this cock-eyed project.”

  “It isn’t cock-eyed. I want to do my own thing. I can make this work, do it for myself, I’m not making if difficult.”

  “From where I’m standing you—”

  “You’re sitting, it’s different.”

  “Funny. Come here.” He leaned her way, put a hand on her waist, pulled her closer with one strong arm until she was close enough to kiss him.

  “You don’t need to do this to prove anything.”

  “I do. I’m sorry, Jake you don’t understand, but I do.”

  “It won’t bring your mum back.”

  “My mum was never part of all that.”

  “You can’t turn the clock back, it won’t change you and your dad, only talking to him will do that.”

  “Says the man who never talks to his parents.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Oh, yeah sure, it would be. I’m not trying to turn the clock back. I’m … ” she could feel her brow wrinkling as she struggled to find the right words, “I’m going back to the point where it went wrong, but this time I’m going to do it differently.”

  “And what about me?” His voice was so soft it cut straight through her.

  “Maybe, maybe we could, I mean you might not want to, but maybe we could sort something out together?” Okay, another stupid idea straight out of her mouth, bypassing the brain.

  “I’m not sure that would ever work, we’re different.”

  “Be my plus one at the party and then you might understand.” Oh, God. She shouldn’t have said that.

  “Plus one? What the hell is one of those?”

  “Come with me, you know, be my partner for the night.”

  “Sod off, I’m not Richard Gere you know.”

  “Nope, he was a gentleman. Please?”

  He sighed. “What party?”

  “The very early Valentine’s Ball my cow of a step-mother is organising. I really don’t want to go and see them all, but Alfie won’t drop it.”

  “Not really a good idea, is it?”

  “I’m not going if you don’t.”

  “Childish.”

  “Come, then you might get why this is important to me. I know you still won’t think I should do it, but I just thought…”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Can I come and help you tomorrow?”

  “I’ll think about that too.” His lips brushed hers, dry, tempting. “But your artist isn’t welcome. Right?”

  “But—”

  “No, buts Georgina. Except maybe this one.” A firm hand landed on her left buttock. Warm. Familiar. Pulse quickening.

  She swallowed hard. “Ca
n we kiss and make up?”

  “You always have to push your luck don’t you?” She didn’t get to answer, he pulled her in tight with the hand that was still on her waist, and then his other hand was rough against her face, his fingers threading through her hair, holding her still as his mouth came over hers.

  Kisses weren’t supposed to make you dizzy with sexual urges, but this one made her whole body spring to alert. Her lips were parting while she was still trying to think of a response, his tongue firm against hers, challenging her to respond. So she did, sucking him eagerly, drawing him in deeper. He groaned, pulled her head back roughly and dragged his mouth from hers, the heat of his breath scorching a path down her neck that set up a chain of goose-bumps down her arms, her breasts, setting up a tingling deep down in her stomach, lower between her thighs. His teeth scraped up her neck and she clutched his leather covered arms, willing him not to stop.

  His hand was hot against her as he reached under the short skirt, tugged the thick black tights down. She kicked a boot off, wobbled as she pulled a foot free, as he unzipped his jeans, pulled his cock free.

  He never shifted from the seat of his bike, instead he pulled her astride him, held her above him then slowly lowered her, nudging her knickers to one side, groaning as her body sheathed him. Kicked the bike back off its stand.

  “Shit you’re wet, you are such a bad girl.” It was his hands that guided her, that raised and lowered her, his firm hands tight around her hips. She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. Skirt rucked up around her waist, one leg still covered with her thick wool tights and scruffy boot, the other naked and the contrast turned her on.

  “Rub yourself.” His voice cracked, harsh and demanding and she reached a hand between them, circled a clit that was already swollen, slipped one finger inside herself, rubbing against his hardness. His thighs trembled under her, wound taut, holding the bike steady. And the pressure as he pulled her down was all she needed and as the first ripples spread, she watched the grimace of control on his face, reached out for him as he lifted her then pulled her back down hard against him, pressed her mouth against his, desperate to taste him as her body shook with need. She was close, so close. “Come for me, Georgie.” It was a gruff command and a plea, wrapped in one. A kind of lust and want reaching out to her and it tipped her over that edge, urgent spasms rippling out through her body as his heat filled her.