“Lies!” I point at her but somehow poke Will. “I’ve never sssseen youuu this drunk.”
“I’m over here.” She waves her three hands.
“I think it’s time to get you in bed,” Will says.
I shimmy down his tree-trunk body. “Yesss. Let’s do the bed.”
“As kinky as that sounds, sweetheart, I’ll pass.”
“You pass? Y-You can’t pass. I pass.” I try to shimmy back up, but my body won’t work. “Wh… why am I nnnot working?” I fall back onto my bum and roll around, laughing. “I’m not working.” I snort.
“Oh goodness! Please tell me you’re staying in one of the suites,” Alexis says.
“We are.” Will scoops me up as if I’m a little flower.
“I’m nnnot a flower,” I assure him.
He chuckles. “Glad to know.”
“I’m Libby.”
“Yes, you are.”
My head falls back, and I wonder where my body has gone. I hope it comes back. I like my body.
“You need a hand getting her to your room?” Bryce asks.
“Nup. I got it.” He swings me around.
“I’m flying.”
“Have fun,” Alexis says.
We fly around the hotel until I float onto a cloud.
“I li—ike this cloud. This cloud is myyy friend.”
He chuckles. “I can tell.”
Will undoes my sneakers and jeans then tugs them off.
“You f-found my body.”
He kisses my leg. “I never lost it.”
“Do m-myyy feet smell?”
“Yes.”
I cry. “They’re bad feet.”
“They’re not. Feet are supposed to smell.”
“You smell.”
The cloud moves and my blouse opens itself and flies away.
“Do I just?”
“Yesss, you smell like a yummy tree.”
He sniffs. “A yummy tree?”
“Yes, nom nom nom.” I pretend I’m the Cookie Monster. “Me love cookie. Nom nom nom. I want to eat you.”
Will bursts into laughter. “The feeling is mutual, sweetheart.”
I try to bite him, but he’s not there.
“You need to open your eyes to eat.”
“They are open.”
He touches my face. “You’re cute as fuck when you’re drunk.”
“You’re cute as fuck.”
“And you’re worth every sacrifice in the world.”
“You are.” I take a deep breath and exhale, my cloud swallowing me. “You’re my Prince Charm—”
I wake the next day, my body hot, limbs heavy, my head pounding like ritual drums. At first, I think I’m in some hellish heaven, the room ethereal white, my eyes burning like a bitch.
“Am I dead?” I grumble.
Will mumbles, “I hope not.”
“Where am I?”
“In bed.”
“Who’s bed?”
“Bryce’s.”
“What?” I shoot up, blinking as my heart attacks my chest. “How—”
Will chuckles, his giant arms pulling me back to the mattress. “Relax. We’re in one of his suites.”
Groaning, I cover my face with my hands and bury my head into the crook of his neck. “What happened?”
“You enjoyed yourself.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
“Oh my God! I can’t remember anything after ‘My Generation’.”
“Yep, that sounds about right.”
“How did I get here?”
“You flew.”
“What?” I can’t help but laugh, even though I have a strong feeling last night is not a laughing matter. “How embarrassing. I’m so sorry. Alexis and Bryce must think I’m…. I don’t even know what they must think.”
He rolls me onto my back, his finger teasing circles around my breasts. “They think you’re great.” He leans down and sucks my nipple into his mouth before releasing it with a pop. “Just like I do.” His masterful hands massage my chest as he trails his lips down my stomach.
I close my eyes and squirm under the tickle of his beard. “I think you’re great too.”
“I know.”
Threading my fingers through his hair, I grip him tight when he nudges my clit. “And how do you know that?”
“Because you love me.”
I smile. “You love me too.”
“I do.”
He dips his tongue, and I squirm, my head turning to the side, my eyes catching sight of the alarm clock.
“Holy shit!” I clamp his head with my thighs. “It’s past one.”
“So?”
“So I have school tomorrow. It’s the first day of term two. I’ve got so much to do and prepare.”
“That reminds me, Carly said she needs me to drop by the office and fill in some paperwork for the job I did before Christmas, so do you want me to pick you up at the end of the day?”
“Oh. Sure.”
He tries to pry my legs apart, his voice stern. “Elizabeth.”
“But….” I groan, the digital display taunting me.
“Relax. You’ve got plenty of time.”
“But I don’t. I—” I yelp when his teeth graze my knee.
“Open. Your. Legs.”
Surrendering, I let my legs fall limp, and he flicks his tongue over my clit.
“Oh Goood!”
“Thought so.”
“Shut up and eat.” I peak an eye open to see his reaction; I’ve never said anything like that before.
Will cocks an eyebrow, slides his hands under my arse, and says, “Me love cookies,” before diving between my legs and growling like Cookie Monster.
I squeal and squirm, laughing. “What are you doing?”
“Repaying the favour.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
Holding me firm, he laps a little slower. I grip his head and rock against his face, delighting in the bridge of his nose and the bristles on his chin. Soft, hard, rough, smooth.
He moans. “That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck my tongue.”
Will tilts my pelvis, angling me higher, grabs a pillow, and wedges it underneath my arse.
“What are you doi—?”
“Preparing my breakfast.”
I laugh. “You can’t say that.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No, you can’t. I’m not a meal.”
He stops, and I wait for him to say my name like he usually does, but he doesn’t. He just sucks his fingers slowly, then slides them inside me, pumping slow before speeding up, dipping to flick, suck, and nip my clit.
Heat surges to my head, stars bursting behind my closed eyes, and I cry out and arch my back, my core clenching as an orgasm rockets through me. Will holds me down as my core contracts, his lips firm over my clit.
“Ahhh,” he growls, eyes wide, before burying his face in my arousal.
He’s so wild and ravenous and easily the single most sexy thing I’ve ever seen.
Getting to his knees, nose and beard glistening, he licks his lips then slowly strokes his cock, his hand firm but delicate. My throat goes dry, and I draw in a much-needed breath, panting as he confidently palms his shaft, a bead of precum pumping to the tip to his crown.
He looks so… so beautiful. Beautifully rough and rugged. Beautifully raw and sensual. Beautifully virile. He’s so damn beautiful that tears sting my eyes.
I blink them back. “I don’t want this to end.”
He grins. “Neither do I.”
“No. Us. I don’t want us to end.”
His brows pinch. “Neither do I.”
“But what if it does? My life is a ticking bomb, remember? And bombs explode.”
He stops milking himself and leans forward, hands firm on the mattress on either side of my head. “If it explodes, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”
“And if it doesn’t explode? If it just ticks and ticks and tortures u
s?”
“Then we’ll set our own tick.” Will seals my mouth with a kiss so soft and passionate that I no longer care about the what ifs and maybes. I no longer care for the perfect path I always thought I would take. Perfect paths are overrated. They don’t allow for what’s hidden on the side. And life is, after all, all about discovery.
Lifting me to the tip of his cock, he says, “Tick,” before pushing inside me then rocking back and pushing again. “Tick.” And again and again. “Tick, tick.”
I smile and brace for the ride.
“You forget I’m a drummer, sweetheart. I create my own beat.”
Boy, oh boy, does he ever.
The following day is both exciting and hectic. The kids all tell me about their Easter holidays and what they did during their two weeks off—some camping, some chilling at home, most gorging themselves on chocolate.
Evan is quiet, which isn’t unusual, but it certainly unsettles my stomach, given the fun topics we discuss and activities we do, but more so when he refuses to remove his jumper as the day grows warmer. I can tell he’s uncomfortably hot, his cheeks red, his hair sticky with sweat.
My gut tells me something isn’t right, so when the final bell rings, I head outside the classroom to speak to his mother, but she isn’t waiting where she normally does.
“Where’s Mum today?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “She’s late.”
“Okay. Well, wait here with me until she arrives. I need to speak with her.”
The schoolyard grows quiet as children run from the grounds, and parents drive away. It always reminds me of the aftermath of a tornado.
I take a seat on the bench beside him, facing the carpark. “Did she tell you she might be late?”
“No.” He sits on his hands and swings his legs.
“Hm… maybe I should give her a call.”
He doesn’t answer me, and my concern amplifies tenfold.
Looking up, I see Will enter the office building, so I wave and hold up my hand as if to say I’ll be five minutes. Truth be told, I don’t know how long I’ll be.
“There she is!” Evan blurts and darts off.
“Evan, wait!” I jog after him when he stops by a Holden Commodore parked across two parking spaces.
Evan’s mum is sitting in the passenger seat, her boyfriend—I assume—behind the wheel.
She opens the door and only half gets out. “Evan, get in the car.”
“Ms Hunter,” I say, puffing as I stop by the driver side. “Can I have a quick word?”
She looks at her boyfriend then shakes her head. “Um… now’s not a good time.”
“I just really need a momen—”
“You fucking deaf?” the boyfriend snaps through his open window.
I jerk back. “I beg your pardon?”
He tips a can of Beam and Coke to his mouth, skolls it, then crushes the can and tosses it at my feet. “Nosey bitch.”
My chest seizes, and I look at Evan through the back window, terror filling his wide-open eyes. I need him to get out of that car, now. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I do know that. The longer he stays there, the longer he’s in danger.
Straightening my shoulder, I say, “I’m sorry, but I must insist.”
“Fuck off!”
He fumbles to turn on the ignition, so I do the first thing I can think to do and reach into the car, yanking out the keys.
“You’re drunk,” I say, holding them to my chest. “You shouldn’t be driving.”
“Fucking bitch!” His eyes flame and bead like the devil’s as he opens the door and stumbles out.
“Stewart, no!”
“Shut up, Eliza. You fuckin’ shut your whore mouth.”
He slams the car door and lunges for me, but thanks to Will’s boxing classes, I dart out of his way, once, twice, but third time, I’m not so lucky.
Pain slams the side of my face, fire burning my scalp as his hand catches my hair and pulls. I scream and stumble like a rag doll, fear rippling through my body. His fist collides with my jaw, and I see bright lights and waves of black. I try to blink them away, try to focus enough to stay conscious and fight back. Because if I don’t, I believe deep within the bowels of my being that he could very kill me.
A metallic taste coats my tongue, and I choke a little before composing myself and throwing an uppercut, which is good enough to break his hold and have him falling backwards.
Agony blankets my hand, and the pain is so severe that I know I’ve broken it, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins keeps me alert enough to brace for another charge, when he’s suddenly tackled to the ground in a tumble of limbs.
Blinking back the cloud of darkness, I fall to my knees and cradle my wrist as Will grapples with the guy until he’s subdued in a headlock, his face turning red, his eyes slowly closing, Will’s arm tight and unrelenting.
“Will!” I cry out.
He doesn’t look up, just holds firm, his face a mask of unbridled fury.
I scream, “Will!”
Finally, his eyes meet mine, and he lets the guy go, scrambles to his feet, and drops to his knees in front of me.
“Lib.” He cups my face, his touch featherlight. “Jesus! What’d he do to you?”
“I’m okay,” I choke out, “but I think my hand is broken.”
He cradles my arm and wipes my cheek. “You’re bleeding. Where are you bleeding?”
“My mouth.” I spit some blood. “I dropped my guard.”
“Sweetheart,” he says, pressing his lips to my head. “You did good.”
I manage a small laugh. “I learned from the best.”
Will helps me to my feet just as Carly runs toward us, phone in hand.
“The police are on their way.” She takes one look at me and says, “Shit!” before bringing her phone to her ear again and asking for an ambulance.
The guy grumbles and tries to stand, his arms and legs like noodles.
“Stay the fuck down or I’ll kill you,” Will seethes.
I touch his chest and gesture toward Evan, fearing he’s seen, and possibly experienced, enough violence already.
Ms Hunter gets out of the car, walks over to her boyfriend, and kicks him in the gut. “You crazy arsehole! I hate you!” She kicks him again. “I hate you! I hate you!”
All I can hear and see is Evan crying, and it breaks my heart. No child should ever be subjected to this. “Will.” I gesture toward Evan.
Will pulls Ms Hunter away from her boyfriend then opens the car door, kneels down, and tells Evan it’s okay and that he’s safe.
Evan pushes past him and rushes to my side. “Ms Hanson,” he cries.
His little arms wrap around me, and no matter the pain tearing through every inch of my body, I know he’s safe.
It’s all that matters.
My sweet boy is safe.
Chapter Twenty
“We’re going in that?” I point to the old, rickety rowboat, which isn’t much bigger than Will.
“Yes. Get in.” He taps my arse with the oar.
Jumping forward, I rub the spot and narrow my eyes. “You’re so bossy.”
Will puts down the oar, steps up to me, and lifts my wrist to his lips. There’s a small scar from the surgery, but after several months of recovery and rehabilitation, my broken bones have healed, and my hand is pretty much functioning as normal.
I pressed charges against Stewart Stonewall, as did Ms Hunter, and he’s currently being held in the Melbourne Remand Centre, no bail, with his committal hearing set for this coming December. I’m nervous for the outcome, but for the most part, I’m trying not to think about it. It’s out of my hands now, and I need to focus on the aspects of my life that I do control.
I found out not too long after the incident that Stewart had dislocated Evan’s shoulder during the school holidays when he threw him against the wall. He also held a knife to his throat and broke several of Ms Hunter’s ribs. The night before that awful day at school, Stewa
rt used Evan as a boxing bag, and he was bruised pretty much from top to toe, which is why he refused to remove his jumper when I asked.
My heart still bleeds for him, and I’ll forever feel guilty for not doing something sooner, despite Ms Hunter telling me Stewart hadn’t laid a hand on Evan prior to the school holidays. He always targeted her, and she’d been a willing sacrifice if it meant her son was safe.
The thing is, with Stewart in their lives, Evan had never been safe. But he is now, and he’s thriving, and all is once again good in the world.
“How’s it feeling today?” Will asks as he detaches his lips from my wrist.
I bend it back and forth and smile. “Good as new.”
“Excellent!” He hands me the oar. “You can help me row.”
“What? Ripped off.”
He laughs just as a family of magpies sing in a nearby tree, the sun’s shimmering reflection on the lake bright and beautiful. I inhale and push my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose. Everything is perfect… despite Will wanting to risk my life to go row boating.
“Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll get into this death trap, but only because I love you.”
We’ve been living together in his magical cottage for a couple of months now. It’s a dream come true. Every day, I wake up, and it’s as if I’m in my own fairy tale. But I do miss Sasha terribly. Carly, not so much.
Okay, maybe a little.
He kisses my scar again, winks, then scoops me into his arms, the sunlight illuminating the golden streaks in his beard. I giggle. He kinda sparkles like Edward Cullen in Twilight.
Placing me on my feet next to the boat, Will holds my hand as I carefully step in and take a seat.
“Please don’t tip us,” I say, gripping the sides.
The boat wobbles when he steps aboard, but we stay upright. We survive.
Will pushes off from the shore, and we float toward the centre of the lake, the water as smooth as glass.
I lean over the edge and skate my fingertips across the surface. “This is quite a lovely idea.”
We’ve just come from my routine ultrasounds, and Will thought this would be a nice way to distract me from my thoughts, even though I told him there were no “thoughts” in the first place. But that’s a lie, and he knows it.
“So have you rowed before?” I ask, hoping his answer is yes.
Connection (Temptation Series Standalones Book 2) Page 20