by Lily Morton
“Levi,” he barks out. “For fuck’s sake, stop talking.”
I nod obediently and then gasp as he jumps into my arms. The movement knocks me back into the wall, and he promptly winds his long legs around my hips and rests his elbows on my shoulders.
“Oh,” I say, tightening my grip on his hips so he doesn’t fall. He’s still light, so there’s no danger of me dropping him. “I’m not sure this is what you need.”
“Levi, did I just tell you to stop talking?”
I stare into his face, fascinated by those huge light eyes. This close I can see the dark striations around the pupil that make them so unusual. “Yes, but …”
He sighs in a long-suffering manner. “I can see I’ve got my work cut out for me. How can I persuade you that I’m not some poor unfortunate forced to sleep with the master before being slung out to make his living on the street?” He clicks his fingers. “Oh, I know.”
Then he lowers his head and kisses me, sending his tongue rubbing lazily against mine.
I inhale sharply. Grabbing him close, I finally and gladly go under and kiss him back. He wraps himself around me tightly, and I groan at the feel of his cock hard and wanting against my belly. Cupping his buttocks, I press him closer to me and he breaks away to moan lustily before coming back to kiss me again.
I kiss him back feverishly as I stagger over to the sofa. I try to unwind his legs and arms, but he mutters a negative and rains kisses on my face before going back to my lips and I give up, falling backwards onto the sofa, the springs squeaking under our combined weight.
He pulls back, his pupils blown and his face flushed and happy. Happy to be with me, I think wonderingly.
“You have the best ideas,” he says huskily.
I chuckle before sending my hands on a search-and-find mission up the back of his jumper. I rub my fingertips over the sleek skin of his back before grabbing his shoulder blades and pulling him into me while lifting up so he’ll kiss me again. He stares at me for a long second before bending to obey my urging.
He seems to be all over me now, his small arse sitting snugly in my lap, his cock against my own and his arms around me. I ruck up his jumper impatiently, and he pulls it over his head, leaving all that pretty hair in staticky shock waves around his face. Then he bends back to me, moaning and kissing me.
I don’t even recognise my needy cry of disapproval when he sits up again, stopping our kiss. He laughs, his face alight with passion.
“Just need to get this off you,” he says, pulling at my long-sleeved navy T-shirt until I put my arms up. He takes it off and throws it somewhere behind him. There’s a crash and the sound of something breaking.
“Oops,” he says huskily. “Naughty me.”
I shake my head and rub my thumbs roughly over his pale pink nipples. They’re the colour of the iced sugar mice in sweet shops, and when I run my tongue over them I’m sure I’m not imagining how sweet they taste.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, holding my face against him. “Do that again.”
I obey, and he gives a high. reedy cry, undulating against me. “More,” he urges, and I open my mouth and bite down gently on the nubbin. “Fuck,” he whispers.
His eyes are closed, his face wild and transported. For a second I wonder whether he’s magic and I’ll lose him, but then he looks down and smiles lasciviously before moving his hands and letting his long, thin fingers unbutton my jeans.
The denim falls open, and he moans under his breath and leans in, grabbing my cock from my briefs and pulling it gently out of my jeans.
“Fuck,” I gasp as he strokes it, his hand a hot, tight grasp. “Oh fuck, yes.”
His panting breaths are loud, and I lift my face up so he can kiss me while I fumble with his jeans. I’m a lot less graceful than him, and for a fraught couple of seconds, I get my fingers tangled up in fabric, but then I draw him out and he gives a high cry, riding my lap as I pull our cocks together and start to rub them.
He leans back, resting his hands on my thighs and offering me his lean body to look at. “Yes,” he pants, his hips swivelling on my lap and his cock rising from its nest of dark curls, a sleek, ruddy-tipped, slender rod.
It takes me a second to realise that the ringing noise I hear isn’t my brain exploding through my ears but is instead the doorbell.
“What the fuck?” I mutter.
He gives a wordless cry of protest as I stop stroking our cocks. “What?” he mutters. “What’s going on?”
“There’s someone at the door.”
“Now?” He sounds enraged and disbelieving, and, unbidden, I start to laugh.
“Whoever it is has terrible timing,” he says crossly.
My smile fades as my worries roar back along with the blood to my brain.
He shakes his head. “Oh, Levi, don’t bother,” he says sharply.
“Don’t bother what?” I ask.
He buttons his jeans with furious movements of his fingers. “Don’t bother trying to put the barriers up again.”
“I wasn’t going to,” I say. “I’m just not sure this is a good idea.”
He glares at me, the mood moving quickly from passion to irritation. “Why? Because of my status as an ex-prostitute or because I see dead people? I’m sure that’s discrimination.”
“I’m not sure that’s how that works.” I sigh as the bell goes again. “Fucking hell.” I stand and button myself up quickly and pull my T-shirt on. “We’ll talk after I’ve got rid of whoever that is,” I say, pointing at him.
He shrugs sulkily, and I’m alarmed to see the old I don’t give a shit look come over his face. It’s extraordinarily horrible to have that dismissiveness directed at me again. “Whatever,” he mutters.
“What does that mean?” I say, following him as he leaves the room and clatters down the stairs.
“It means that I don’t see the point,” he says coolly. “All you see is someone who hooked for a living. It’s not something nice people can get over.”
“Don’t call me nice in that shitty tone of voice,” I hiss as we near the front door. I can see a man’s silhouette through the glass. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“Or for yourself.” He grabs his coat and the suit bag that contains his ghost-tour uniform from the hook. “Because who knows what you’ll catch from people like me.” He pulls open the door, forestalling my answer.
It fades away anyway as I see who is on the step. “Mason,” I gasp. “What are you doing here?”
My ex smiles widely, and Blue looks back and forth between the two of us. A surly look replaces the brief glimpse of something that looked very much like hurt.
“Well, I’ll be off,” Blue says coldly. “Now you’ve got someone nice and normal to play with.”
And with a swirl of his coat and an angry expression he’s gone.
Chapter 12
Levi
He leaves behind a stunned silence as both Mason and I stare down the lane at his vanishing figure. Then my shocked immobility breaks and I step out of the house.
“Hey,” Mason says, putting a hand on my chest. “Where are you going?”
“After him,” I say, bemused, and grit my teeth as he stops my forward motion again. “I’m not sure why you’re holding me back.”
He puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, sorry. I’ve travelled all this way up here and you’re just going to take off after some random bloke.”
“He’s not random. And why are you here?”
He gestures at a box at his feet. “I brought your stuff.”
“The stuff I told you to bin?” I stare at him until he shifts awkwardly on his feet. “What’s going on, Mason?”
He shrugs and sticks his hands in his pockets. “I just need to talk to you.”
“And you couldn’t do that on the phone?”
“No, because every time I ring you seem to have a drama going on,” he says sharply and then visibly tries to relax. “I wanted to see you,” he says softly, giving m
e his patented Mason smile.
It used to always work on me. Well, until I came home early one day and found it directed at another man. In our bed. Nevertheless, we have a lot of history between us and as much as I hated him at one point, I’d also loved him deeply too.
I look down the empty lane. Blue is long gone now and there’s zero chance of finding him if he doesn’t want me to.
“Ten minutes.” I sigh, and he grins almost triumphantly at me. I shake my head. “That’s it. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it.” He follows me in and walks past me, staring open-mouthed. “Jesus, Levi, this is gorgeous.” He pokes his head into the lounge and dining room and then the kitchen. “Did you do all this?”
I shrug, walking into the kitchen to put the kettle on. “Not me personally.”
He laughs. “Yes, I still have memories of the time you decided to bleed the radiator.”
“I didn’t know it would actually take my blood to get the thing to work. I thought bleeding was a technical term.”
“I thought flood was too.”
For a second we smile at each other, and I remember all the good times we had together. It’s strange how far away they seem now. He was my first love, and it’s a relief to suddenly know that he won’t be my last. He was a rung on my ladder, and I feel a weight release as I realise that he hasn’t broken me.
He looks at me quizzically. “Not giving me the decent stuff?” he says, nodding at the instant coffee.
I shake my head. “You won’t be here long enough for me to brew a pot.”
“Ouch.” He holds his hand to his chest. “You wound me, Levi.”
“I don’t think so.” I pour hot water into the mug and pass it to him. “What do you want?”
He fiddles with his mug, his long fingers almost delicate looking. “I’ve finished with Sean.”
I jerk. “Really, why?”
He shrugs. “It wasn’t right for either of us. I couldn’t stop feeling guilty, and he expected more.”
“Ah,” I say, spooning sugar into my mug. “Those pesky expectations. How they do trip us up.” I laugh humourlessly. “Like expecting monogamy. That surely caught me out.”
“I’m sorry,” he says passionately. “I’m so sorry. It was a really shitty thing to do.”
“It was,” I say quietly. “But maybe in the end it did us both a favour.”
“What?” he jerks out, sitting back.
I tilt my head curiously. “Well, it’s for the best. We’d have probably ended anyway. At least this way it was sooner rather than later.”
He pushes his chair back and paces over to the window. “Why would we have ended?”
“Well, I’d say the fact that you couldn’t keep your dick in your trousers might be an indication that we had problems.”
“And your absence from our lives didn’t?” he says sharply.
I sit forward. “My absence? Makes me sound like I went off on my holidays. Not that I was nursing my dying mother.”
He scrubs his hand through his hair. “I’ve said I’m sorry.”
“Mason, you remind me of a small child sometimes. It’s like you think that saying sorry really does make everything okay. News flash, it doesn’t. When you cheated, it broke us and we’re Humpty Dumpty now.” I spread my hands out and stand up. “We can’t be put back together. And you know what? I’m glad of that. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been.”
“What, with the bleached blond greb that just left?”
Incredibly, I laugh. “Blue would actually like that.”
“Blue? That’s his name. Fucking hell. Does he wear hemp undies and smoke a bong?”
I raise my eyebrows. “That’s a hell of a lot of stereotyping in one small sentence.”
“Oh, fuck off,” he sneers. “Are you having a midlife crisis?”
“I’m twenty-seven. That would be quite early for one of those.”
“Babe, you lost your mum, and I broke us.” He comes to me so quickly that I stumble back. I hit the cupboard, and he boxes me in before I can move. He frames my face with his hands. “I want you back,” he says passionately. “I made the biggest mistake of my life, and I miss you so fucking much. I want what we had.”
“Mason, I umpf,” I get out as he kisses me fiercely, our teeth clashing together.
I raise my hands to his shoulders to push him away, but at that second there’s a tremendous crash, and we jerk apart. Mason’s mug is smashed to pieces on the floor, his coffee steaming and dripping off the table.
“What the hell?” he says. “How did that happen?”
The kitchen fills with the scent of lily of the valley.
Mason makes a face. “Have you got one of those plug-ins? You know they’re terrible with my asthma.”
“Hmm, and obviously that means I’ll never be able to use one again even though we split up a year ago.”
He starts to respond, but at that second a door slams upstairs and then another one. “What’s happening?” he says. “Have you left the windows open?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “And I should go round and close them before it starts raining. Let me show you out.”
He allows me to lead him out and stops on the doorstep. “It’s really over, isn’t it?” he says, and something in his voice catches me with sadness because once this man meant everything.
“It is,” I say quietly. “There’s no going back from it, Mason. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” he chokes out. “It’s my fault.”
I shrug. “What’s done is done. Let’s not go over it again.”
He reaches out, and I hug him, knowing it’s for the last time. “Take care,” I say softly. He gives me a lopsided smile, lifting his hand and running his fingers over my lips.
“You too.”
The lounge door slams behind me and I flinch.
He looks at me curiously. “I’d go and shut those windows before the glass smashes.”
I smile. “I think once you’ve gone it’ll be fine.”
He raises his hand, and with a wave, he’s gone.
I shut the front door and lean against it. “I know it’s you, Rosalind,” I whisper. “I’m not sure what that was about but thank you. You got me out of a tight spot.” I inhale the scent of perfume and shake my head. “Now I’m talking to dead people,” I whisper. “I really am Haley Joel Osment, minus the bad haircut.” The kitchen door slams crossly. “Okay, okay,” I say. “Sorry, that was rude.”
I grab my phone from my back pocket and try Blue’s number. It goes straight to a generic answer message. I click End and try again. And again. Finally, I leave a message. “Blue, it’s Levi. I’m sorry for whatever happened earlier.” I hesitate. “To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what happened.” I sigh. “I think you’re convinced that I don’t want you because of your past. You couldn’t be more wrong. I do want you. It’s got nothing to do with what you did or who you were, but who you are now. You’re funny and sharp and complicated and I… I like you. I like all of you, and I don’t want to spoil stuff. And I definitely don’t want you to feel that you have to do something because you’re staying in my home.” I laugh mirthlessly. “I’m not convinced you do anything you don’t want to, but I need to be sure.” I pause. “Anyway, I hope I see you soon,” I finish lamely and end the call.
“Shit,” I mutter, scrubbing my hands through my hair. “That is the single lamest thing I’ve ever done.”
I clear up the kitchen and then wander around downstairs for a few minutes, picking things up and putting them down and feeling restless. The house is quiet. It’s been like that since Blue burned the sage, but now it’s weirdly quiet like it’s waiting for something. I shake my head, feeling uneasy for the first time in a week.
“Fuck it,” I finally say. “You can’t find him, so you should do something productive.” I nod. “And well done on talking to yourself. It’s just great.”
I wander upstairs but avoid my studio. If I tried to do anythin
g creative in this mood, I’d fuck something up. Instead, I wander into my bedroom, inhaling the scent of peaches that clings in here already. It’s dark as the promised storm approaches, and I switch the bedside lamps on and walk over to the window to look out, hoping stupidly to see Blue walking down the street towards home. But it’s empty and suddenly I’m sure I’m the only person who’s alive at the moment. I sigh.
As I raise my gaze from the street, a reflection flickers in the window. A shout erupts from my chest. I can quite clearly see the figure of a man standing behind me.
“Shit!” I spin around but the room is empty.
I look round wildly. Completely empty. I turn back to the window and then rub my eyes. Nothing. Just my wild-eyed face and messy hair. I consider actually checking the wardrobe and under the bed, but then shake my head disgustedly.
“What the fuck? Get it together, for fuck’s sake. You are not looking for monsters under the bloody bed.” I pause. “And I really ought to get a dog and then it won’t feel like I’m going loopy when I talk out loud.”
The words die away into silence. The house listens.
I need to get out of here, go for a walk. It’s got to be safer.
That word runs around my brain. Safer. Since when do I not feel safe in my own home? A shiver works down my spine. Now, is the answer. I was curious about my house before – cautious about approaching the unknown. But the cold lump growing in my stomach right now is genuine fear.
As I reach for my shoes, there’s a loud crash of thunder and the sky opens. I walk to the window again, watching rain bucket down. The tree on the lane sways, the wind blowing the branches around like it’s dancing. Rain falls harder, cascading down the window and blocking out the outside world. It’s as if the house is under water. The normal sight of rain in England seems to dissipate the eeriness and my fear and I abruptly feel very stupid.
“I’m not walking in this.” I say out loud and throw myself onto the bed. “Get yourself together, you nutbag,” I chide myself. “You live here.”