by Sue Lilley
“I will if you give me a hug.”
“Definitely no hugs.”
“But hugs are lovely.”
“Not a good idea.”
“It’s me, isn’t it? I’m getting on your nerves. You’re wishing you hadn’t helped me now, aren’t you?”
As huge tears welled up in her eyes, he felt like a complete bastard. He shouldn’t take his mood out on her. She didn’t need anyone else to make her feel crap.
He sat on the edge of the bed. He only meant to stroke her arm or something but she threw herself at him. He kept his hands on the bed. Tried not to enjoy the feel of her hair against his chest.
“Do you like me, Joe?”
“I think you’re a nice kid.”
“I’m not a kid!”
“Girl, then. You’re a nice girl.”
“Do you fancy me?
He groaned. “Lisa, don’t.”
“I fancy you. Loads. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
She lifted her head off his chest. The duvet slid down. He tried to get to his feet but she launched herself at him again, the momentum shoving him back against the headboard. His hands ended up on her hips. Her naked hips. Any minute now she’d be completely starkers.
His hand had drifted down her thigh. He pulled it back into line.
“That’s nice,” she murmured. “Do it again.”
She snuggled closer. Her lips found his neck, hesitant and gentle yet her warm breath stirred his blood to flashpoint. His hand touched her stomach, the piercing of a ruby coloured flower. What would it look like when her belly got swollen by the baby? What was wrong with him, that he wasn’t turned off by that? Then his zip slid down again and her hand started wriggling inside his jeans. His heart was racing. Why didn’t he stop her?
“Don’t you want to kiss me Joe?”
“No!”
“Please? I want to kiss you. You’ve been so good to me, Joe.”
She kissed him. He couldn’t move as he drowned in the sweetness of her. They were lying down now, almost naked. Her ripe breasts had found their way into his hands, her nipples hard peaks beneath his thumbs. She was moaning softly, rubbing herself against him. How could any man resist such a total turn-on? Who would feel guilty when it was there, on a plate?
So why did he keep hearing Heather? Heather with her low opinion of him, warning him that Lisa was grateful and his ego wouldn’t be able to resist. Was he going out of his way to prove his sister right?
But Lisa wanted it. She was making all the moves. He opened his eyes to look at her. Hers were tightly screwed up. She was clearly terrified by what she was doing. He jumped off the bed, his erection shrivelling as he tugged up his jeans. She was scared and he’d almost shagged her.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!”
“What’s the matter?”
“You, this.” He gestured at the bed. “I should never have gone there. Jesus! I’m sorry.”
“But I wanted to do something nice for you.”
“You think this is payment? Because I helped you? What sort of bastard do you think I am?”
“You don’t fancy me?”
She hurled herself back on the pillows. Naked. Gorgeous. Her arm was hiding her eyes, he couldn’t tell if she was crying.
“For fuck’s sake, Lisa. Give it a rest. And get some covers on you, please!”
“I was only being nice. That Simon was such a prat and you’ve been so great, looking after me and everything.”
“I wouldn’t be looking after you if I’d shagged you, would I? I do have a daughter, you know?”
“And I bet your daughter wouldn’t be such a disappointment?”
He didn’t need any reminders that in his family, he was the big disappointment. His daughter worshipped him and he didn’t want to do anything to damage that. And he didn’t want her hurt by the mess between him and Evie. But in the meantime, he’d landed himself in another mess with Lisa.
“You’re not a disappointment.”
“Simon didn’t want me. You don’t want me.”
“Jesus! Cut it out! I do want you, obviously. You’re gorgeous, sexy. But we’re not going there, okay? It isn’t right.”
She nodded, biting her lip. He thought she looked relieved as she pulled the duvet over herself. But not half as relieved as he was. He rummaged in his bag for a dry T-shirt and thrust his arms into it.
“I like your tattoo.”
He glanced down at the cat prowling over his shoulder. “It was meant to have a mouse or a bird. But I never went back to get it finished.”
Yet another example of something he didn’t commit to. He pulled the T-shirt over his head, trying to ignore the ache in his balls.
“So, we’re cool, yeah? Let’s get some sleep and tomorrow we can get back on the road.”
She fell asleep at once and Joe sat in the chair feeling an odd glimmer of pride. Not so long ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice about a quick shag that was offered to him on a plate. Alright, maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her. Or touched her tits. But they were quite spectacular tits and she’d almost thrust them into his hands. But when it counted, he had resisted.
Too restless for sleep, he made more tea, using the last two bags to try and get the strong brew he liked. Channel hopping, he found a documentary about an artist who drew charcoal portraits with his feet. The guy had such skill, such tenacity, his style reminding him a bit of Kat’s work all those years ago.
God, Kat! He wondered if she was still painting. Still teaching? Did she still have young guys falling over themselves? She’d taught him plenty, about art as well as other things, but the painful gash she’d left in his life had meant he hadn’t drawn anything since.
He’d been thinking about that a lot recently, wondering if he’d have been any good, if he’d managed to stick at it. Wondering if he should do something about finding out. And tonight, some impulse had made him buy pencils and a pad.
Glad of something to do, he picked them up and at first his hand was clumsy and stiff, his unpractised eye unable to make the connection. But he worked at it, far into the night, until his lines began to flow into planes of light and shade across the paper.
He woke up with a stiff neck and a bursting bladder. When he’d stretched a bit, he looked critically at the drawing. It was a good likeness of Lisa sleeping, half child, half woman. The suggestion of a naked breast. A secret smile. He was chuffed with it.
He turned on the TV. The weather forecast was grim. The west country especially was about to be deluged. He just wanted to get there. To make sure Evie was alright. To make her listen. Convince her things would be different.
He lay down on the bed, on top of the covers, as far away from Lisa as he could possibly get. He was a man on a mission and he needed a few hours proper kip.
***
Evie must have nodded off. She woke as Jake was parking the car in the lane. He switched off the engine and grinned at her.
“Are we having wild sex out here in your car or shall we make a run for it?”
“Does anybody ever say no to you?”
“Are you going to be the first?” he teased. “Everyone wants to shag a rock star. When I’m famous you can make a fortune doing a kiss and tell.”
His cockiness should’ve annoyed her but it was too late for that. They both knew that sex had been on the cards all evening. But this had to be her choice, she wasn’t going to be seduced, and she didn’t want time to think it over, to feel guilty and wonder if this made her as bad as Joe.
“I’m too old to start having sex in cars.”
She leaned over and kissed him, her fingers tangling in his hair. Then she got out of the car and picked her way up the cobbled path, drenched at once as she struggled in her silly shoes. Jake caught up, pulling her round to kiss her, the rain running over their faces.
“We could get naked in the rain?”
“Or maybe we could wait until we’re inside where it’s dry?”
In the
kitchen, Evie groped for the light switch. Nothing.
“Power cut,” Jake shrugged, his arm still draped around her shoulders. “Happens all the time.”
She’d forgotten the inconveniences of country living. Forgotten how much she hated the dark, even in the city where it wasn’t pitch black like here with rain lashing the old cottage and rattling the windows. She shivered, leaning into him.
“It’s no big deal,” he said. “Most people have candles. Where would they be?”
“Drawers by the sink, maybe.”
She stayed in the doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust while Jake poked around quite happily, not seeming to care that he couldn’t see a bat. When he found a torch, she realised she’d been holding her breath. There were candles too. And matches, thank goodness.
“Do you want to fetch us a couple of towels?” he suggested as he lit some candles, melting wax into saucers so they’d stand up.
She didn’t. But they were both dripping onto the floor and she didn’t want to admit to being so scared. She took the torch, steeling herself to go upstairs into the blackness.
On the landing, there was a long mirror, covered years ago in floral decoupage. She stopped, shocked by her reflection in the torchlight. Grim wasn’t the word. Straggly hair, smudged make up. And those provocative clothes! What had she been thinking?
Surely he couldn’t still fancy her looking so bedraggled? Never mind when he saw her naked. Saw her body that was no longer young and perfect when he was so toned and gorgeous. And after he’d shown her tonight he could have any girl he wanted.
Biting her lip, she stripped off her wet clothes and pulled on an old T-shirt and some yoga pants. Too late now to think about impressing him. Maybe he was already regretting coming home with her. Should she make it easy for him and say it was okay if he wanted to go?
She slumped onto the bed to think, jumping straight up when she found the covers were soaking wet. The torch beam showed water dripping through the ceiling and there were already a couple of puddles on the carpet.
She called to Jake but he didn’t hear so she had to go back down. He was in the living room coaxing a fire from the ashes in the grate. He’d lit a dozen dusty white candles. The shadows danced about the room, skimming his naked back. The old radio hummed with smoky late night jazz. Evie swallowed, lost for words at the sight of him.
He turned, grinning over his shoulder. “Weren’t you meant to be getting us some towels?”
“I got sidetracked by the rainwater pouring through the ceiling. My bed’s completely soaked.”
The fire suddenly spat into life and he sat back on his heels to admire it. “Who needs a bed when there’s a nice open fire?”
“You’re joking! The roof’s obviously leaking and the ceiling could come down at any moment.”
“Drama queen!” he laughed. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” But he went upstairs with her to look.
He had the torch so she held onto his other hand with both of hers. Even without his shirt, he was warm. And calm. He organised pans and bowls to put under the drips and said he’d have a proper look in the morning.
So he was planning on staying all night?
“Are there any dry blankets?” he asked.
“I don’t know. The spare room, maybe?”
She led him across the landing. He sat on the bed, bouncing on the creaky springs then drew her in closer, holding her between his knees to kiss her. She was too nervous of the dark to enjoy kissing him back.
“It’s a fine old bed but why waste that fire after all my efforts?”
Jake carried the dry quilt downstairs and spread it out in front of the fire which was just beginning to flicker and glow. It looked cosy, like a nest. Evie was more than happy to be back in the relative comfort of candlelight but was she really going to lie down with him there? Was she mad?
She busied herself in the kitchen, edging around with the torch until she found wine, corkscrew and glasses. He was sitting on the quilt when she came back. She perched on the edge of the sofa, telling herself she was a grown-up. Grown-ups did this all the time.
“You’re nervous as hell,” he laughed. “Come here and let’s have some of that wine.”
“It isn’t very cold.”
“I won’t care if you don’t.”
She knelt on the floor beside him and he took the bottle from her, opening it with a flourish. She held the glasses while he poured. He spilt some on her hand and bent to lick it off, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She swallowed, took a deep breath. “What shall we drink to?”
“What do you want most in the world?”
“I don’t know. Peace of mind, maybe. What about you?”
“That’s easy. Fame, fortune and shedloads of sex.”
“Is that all you think about?”
“Pretty much.”
He clinked her glass, drank half of his, watched her as she sipped her own. She smiled nervously.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You need to knock it back. You’re such a lady.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Don’t know. Depends if you’re a lady underneath.”
She emptied her glass, her stomach in knots as he took the glass and placed it next to his on the hearth, the slate worn smooth by years of polishing. When he took her hand, every inch of her body was fizzing with anticipation.
He leaned forward and kissed her. She closed her eyes, drowning in the rainy scent of his hair. He broke away, leaving her breathless.
“Come here?” He was by the radio, turning up the volume. “This is an awesome track.”
She was in his arms, dancing to jazz in the candlelit darkness. Thigh on thigh as they swayed, barely moving from the spot. His hands slid under her top, splayed over the small of her back, drifting up the ridges of her spine.
Her cheek found the hollow of his neck, her hands tracing the contours of his shoulders. He smelled of danger. Temptation. She wanted more. She kissed his cheek, found his lips. Melted as the kiss became an urgent question. A promise.
His hands moved down, crushing her hips against him. He was hard already. His breath was warm on her ear.
“I want to fuck you so much.”
She laughed, pulling away. “That’s not very romantic.”
“What?”
He stood there looking puzzled, hands on his head, tugging at his hair. His jeans were unbuttoned, she noticed. When had he managed to do that?
“You’re meant to sweet-talk me with romance and poetry.”
“Is that how it worked, back in the day?” he laughed, sliding his arms around her to pull her close. “These days, we just do it like this.”
Chapter 12
Evie woke to find the fire had died and the last of the candles was spluttering in the dim light of dawn. Jake was sprawled face down beside her, his arm still thrown across her belly. She smiled. Stretched a bit, never more aware of her body. Every inch had surely been stroked and kissed. It had been bliss. Heaven.
She recalled looking at herself last night, smooth and curvy in the flattering glow from the candles. She’d watched his hands caress her inner thighs, parting and probing. She’d never felt more beautiful.
And Jake. Would she ever tire of looking at him? That smooth young skin, tanned caramel down to his firm white buttocks. She stroked him with the back of her hand. Would she ever tire of touching him? Tasting him? She’d never had sex like that. Never woken in the early hours like this, wanting more, needing to know it hadn’t been a dream.
She shuffled onto her hip, trying not to mind that the floor was hard. That she was bruised in places she never knew she had. It had been worth it. She wasn’t sorry when her fidgeting woke him.
“Morning,” he hummed against her arm.
“I don’t think it is morning, not quite.”
“So, no morning sex, then?”
He trailed a lazy finger down her leg. She w
as ready to snuggle down again under the quilt. But he sat up, propped on one elbow.
“I’ll settle for food. I’m starving, aren’t you?”
Her stomach growled in response and she remembered she hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. She went to rummage in the kitchen, not quite believing she did it without a stitch on. She’d always been one to grab a robe.
It was a relief that the power had been restored but she couldn’t be bothered to think about cooking. She switched on the kettle, was arranging a plate of cold meat and cheese when he sneaked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her neck, his morning erection poking against her back.
“So, how did I do on the romance front?”
“Not bad.”
“What about this? Is this romantic?”
Hands on her breasts, he twirled her nipples into peaks. She closed her eyes, trying not to purr with pleasure.
“I wanted poetry.”
“Just words,” he whispered as he turned her round and leaned her back against the counter. “Actions are better.”
His lips were on her, his tongue swirling, his hands moving down, making her ready. He lifted her up, parted her legs and was inside her before she could answer. She clasped the rigid length of him, wrapped her legs around him, matching his rhythm, his breathing. It was hot and swift. If he hadn’t had hold of her she’d have melted like jelly.
“Pretty poetic,” she laughed. “But you’ll get better with practice.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
They ate their makeshift breakfast and went back to sleep. When they woke again it really was morning and it was still pouring from the heavens.
“Great day to stay in bed,” he murmured.
“We’re not actually in bed.”
“Details.”
“I’m aching all over.”
“You old people have no staying power.”
She threw a cushion at him. He grabbed her, kissed her. His hands were all over her again, his tongue sliding down her belly. She didn’t think she could come again but as he filled her with pulsing pleasure, she rocked beneath him, climbing and clawing to reach the crest. She squeezed him dry and it was blissful.
“Shit!” he gasped. “I’m knackered.”