Jack & Kayla (Imperfect Love Series)

by Ruby Molloy

  His eyes lift to mine. “Because as much as I trust you, I still needed to hear you deny it.”

  I push away from the chair I’ve been holding. “You’re a jerk, you know that? Who does something like that?”

  “You forgotten what it was like when Molly told you I’d been cheating?”

  “No.” No, I haven’t forgotten that. Not sure I ever will and, okay, maybe he’s got a point.

  “So you understand?” he asks.

  He’s ramming his point home and it pains me to admit that I get where he’s coming from. “I guess.”

  “Then come here.”

  I think about staying right where I am, but that lasts for all of two seconds. I step up to Boyd and his hands glide warm and soft as a summer breeze up and down my back. “Someone’s trying to fuck us up,” he says. “Not gonna let that happen.”

  I twist my face, burying it against his chest. “What if those photos had been better? What if your colleague hadn’t been able to tell they were fakes?”

  “That didn’t happen.”

  “Yeah, but what if?”

  “Kayla, dwelling on what ifs is a waste of time. All I wanna know is who and why.”

  “Do you have any ideas? I mean, I guess Molly’s top of the list.”

  “Yeah, Molly’s up there,” he says.

  I draw back and search his face. “You think Liam’s a maybe?”

  “Yeah.”

  The way he says it, with this jaw tight and his eyes hard, I know it’s more than a maybe. I’m scared of what Boyd might do. “Please don’t do anything risky.”

  “I won’t.”

  It’s not much of a reassurance. I know Boyd will do what he sees fit.

  “I don’t want to lose you,” I say.

  He gathers me in. “You’re not gonna lose me.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” He reaches down and lifts me onto the worktop, stepping between my thighs.“Dinner’s gonna be ready in an hour,” he says, surprising me with his change of subject.

  “It is?”

  “Been a week,” he continues.

  Suddenly I get where he’s coming from and my breath hitches.

  “Need inside you, Boots.”

  I link my hands behind his neck and gaze up at him as if he’s my moon on a winter’s night. “You do?”

  He doesn’t answer. He leans down and kisses me. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  *****

  “Boyd!” I’m on my third orgasm of the night and it’s rolling through me as if it’s my first. Boyd’s gripping my hips, encouraging me to keep riding, but I’m caught up in the waves and they’re pulling me under.

  Taking me to my back, he looms over me, thrusting hard, his strong arms locked as he flexes, head dipped low, eyes closed as he approaches release.

  He groans, still pumping, and his head jerks back. I know he’s there when his hips jerk and his elongated “F-u-c-k” merges into the dark. His body falls against mine. I’m aware of his deep breathing and his thumping heart.

  He twists to his side bringing me with him. I curl my thigh over his and lay my forehead to his chest while his arms draw me in tight.

  This was round three.

  Round one was intense.

  Round two was bitter-sweet, with Boyd finding his finesse as he called it.

  Afterwards we ate a feast of chicken and vegetables in a spicy sauce that had us licking our fingers and gorging on each other’s expressions, knowing what had gone before and what was yet to come.

  Round three was a sensual torture, Boyd taking charge yet again, me turned on, pliant as a top-heavy dandelion.

  And so here we are, me with my thigh draped over his, our hearts beating double time, lungs gasping.

  Boyd’s the first to move; a sensory glide of his hand down my thigh, followed by a lingering kiss that’s somehow territorial.

  “What are you doing next weekend?” he asks.

  “Having lunch with Hailey.”

  His eyebrows shoot upwards. “You are?”

  “Yeah. We planned it once already but had to cancel. Why?”

  “What time will you be free?”

  “I don’t know. Around three I guess.”

  “You want to help me pack?”

  I lean up on my elbow, suddenly curious. “Pack? Why? Where are you going?”

  He doesn’t answer straight away, and when he speaks his voice is lazy. “I was thinking you could pack up your shit and bring it over to my place.”

  See, he does this, all quiet and relaxed, stirring up violent excesses within me. “Boyd?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What are you saying?”

  I’m so tense I’m worried my muscles are going to cramp. Boyd on the other hand is relaxed and sleepy. I’m scared he’s going to fall asleep before I find out if he means what I think he means.

  “Thought you could move in,” he says, eyes closed, voice trailing off at the end.

  “Do not go so sleep! Boyd! Wake up!”

  He’s out for the count and I’m tight as a guitar string that’s about to snap and curl up on itself. How can he say something like that and fall sleep twenty seconds later?

  “Boyd?!” I shout his name and shove at his shoulder. He doesn’t exactly shoot upright, but his eyes open. I figure his sleep is less important than my peace of mind. “Did you mean it?”

  “What?”

  “What you just said?”

  He thinks for a second. “About you moving in?”

  “Yeah.”

  He pulls me down beside him. “Course I meant it.”

  I watch him fall back asleep.

  *****

  Somewhere a phone is ringing. I’m only vaguely aware of Boyd answering, his voice a quiet, sleepy rumble. “What the fuck do you want Lenox? It’s five in the morning.”

  Lenox?

  Did he say Lenox?

  As in, Hailey’s Lenox?

  I kneel up on the mattress, gazing down at Boyd, who’s lying on his back with the phone to his ear. His hand sneaks out to wrap around my right breast and I slap it away. He frowns and glares up at me, but I’m concentrating on his conversation.

  “Okay. Shit, yeah, I understand. Okay. Speak to you soon.”

  He hangs up and places the phone back on the night stand.

  “Who was that?” I ask, impatient.

  “You slapped my hand away?” he asks with fake disbelief.

  “Boyd, who were you talking to?”

  He pounces. One minute I’m kneeling, the next I’m flat on my back, struggling to get my legs out from under me. “Oh my God, you big lummox, will you get off me!”

  His mouth is against my neck and he’s making gross noises, as if I’m dinner and he’s starving. It’s funny, and I’m laughing, but I still need to know about Lenox.

  “Boyd, please. Who’s Lenox?”

  He locks his arms and stares down at me. “Tag. Why?”

  I can feel my eyes rounding. “What? How come Tag is Lenox?”

  “Simple,” he says, as if I’m the simple one. “It’s his surname. Why the interest?”

  Only I don’t hear that last part. I’m staring up at him in shock. Hailey and Tag are ... What? Dating? Fucking? And Boyd doesn’t know. I’m not sure how he’ll feel about Tag sleeping with his sister, but the fact that Tag’s been keeping it a secret ... I’m pretty sure Boyd will kill him.

  “Hey? Where’d you go?” He’s gazing down at me, curious.

  I blink my way clear of the brain fog. “Sorry. Miles away.”

  “Why are you so interested in Lenox?”

  I raise my shoulders in a casual shrug, knowing it’s dark and there’s less chance of Boyd being able to see I’m lying. “I hadn’t heard you mention his surname before. You were swearing and I thought maybe it was bad news.”

  I’m pretty sure Boyd doesn’t swallow my story. He gazes at me for another few seconds before falling back against his pillow.

  “Tag was gonna check on s
omething for me this morning but he had a bad shift.”

  I crawl up the bed and fall down beside him, my hand resting on his belly. “When you say he had a bad shift, do you mean someone died?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh,” I say.

  Boyd pulls me in and gives me a kiss. “Don’t dwell on it.”

  “I’m not.” But I kind of am. I can’t imagine what it must be like for Tag, dealing with life and death on a regular basis. But then I recall that he and Boyd are ex-army and that was their life for several years. Then I get to thinking about how he could have been snatched away from me before we ever got the chance to meet.

  “I love you,” I say.

  Boyd lifts his head and stares at me. “Love you too,” he says.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Intrusion

  KAYLA

  Hailey’s style is unique. She wears cotton print dresses short enough to show off her thighs, and hippy headbands that add a certain charm. She should look girlish, but there’s a sexy edge to her sleeveless dresses, one that has guys staring and girls asking where she shops.

  Today her fifties-style dress is petrol blue with swirls of dull orange and brown. She’s wearing a chunky flecked-brown cardigan over the top, with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

  “Did Boyd tell you I’m moving in with him this weekend?” I ask.

  “No! Oh my God, that’s friggin’ brilliant. You know I fell in love with you on sight, right? I just knew you and Boyd were meant for each other.” She straightens in her chair, suddenly serious. “Have you told my mum?”

  “Uh, I’m not sure if Boyd’s said anything ...” I trail off when she rolls her eyes. “You know what, I’ll call her later.”

  “Good idea.”

  We’re having lunch, though we’re mostly eating cake. Divine’s has the best muffins in the whole county. I’m wallowing in coffee and walnut, while Hailey is enjoying chocolate and cherry.

  I decide now’s the right moment to drop my bomb. “Who’s Lenox?” I ask.

  Hailey’s fork glides to a stop an inch from her mouth. She drops it to her plate and stares down at her muffin for a good long while. When she eventually meets my eyes, I can see she’s scared. “You know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you told Jack?”

  Her panicky gaze skitters over my face, stilling when I say, “No.”

  She leans over and grabs my wrist. “You can’t tell him. I mean it, Kayla, you tell him and he’ll kill Tag and ... Just don’t tell him.” Her voice vibrates with intensity.

  “I won’t, promise.” I think she might cry. There’s a definite gleam of moisture in her eyes and she’s biting her bottom lip. “Hailey―”

  “You need help packing today? I don’t have any plans this afternoon.”

  I take a moment to digest the fact that Tag’s not up for discussion. “Sure, if you don’t mind? Boyd’s playing football. He said he’d give me a hand later, but I’d rather get it out the way. To be honest, there’s not that much to pack. It’s mostly clothes.” I pause, realising just how many clothes I have. “Actually, scrap that. There’s a tonne of clothes.”

  Her green eyes brighten. “Great! I can check out your wardrobe, find out if you have any disasters.”

  Two hours later we’ve come across several disasters, including a red dress with lace across one shoulder. Hailey’s holding it up towards Frankie, but Frankie’s found another, this one white with a keyhole boob thing going on. She holds it up, her eyes going googly as she examines the hideous neckline.

  “Trash!” I call out . Frankie tosses it into the black bin liner that’s resting on top of my mattress.

  “What about this one?” Hailey asks, though she already knows my answer.

  “Definitely trash.”

  By the time we’re finished my clothes count has been reduced by ten percent. In real terms, this equates to two bin liners. I’ll drop them at a charity shop en route to Boyd’s, but first I hug Frankie goodbye on the way out the door and do the same with Hailey at her SUV. She’s as small as Boyd is tall. The SUV makes her look tiny. “I’ll come visit once you’ve settled in,” she tells me.

  “Okay. And, Hailey, about Tag. I won’t say a word, okay?”

  She gives me a warm smile and another hug. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  I watch her manoeuvre the SUV like a pro.

  Boyd’s still at football when I get home.

  HOME.

  I silently repeat the word, smiling.

  It takes three trips to bring up my things from the car. It’s only when I open Boyd’s closet that I realise there’s no space. Not one inch. Not because Boyd has a tonne of clothes, though he has enough, but the closet in his room is tiny.

  I head towards the second bedroom and hang up my things, packing them in until the closet is full and so too is the chest of drawers and the drawer beneath the bed. But I’ve done it. Everything has a place.

  I fold the bin liners, hiding them under Boyd’s sink―our sink―and go watch TV, waiting for Boyd’s return. I’m too wrapped up in the TV show to notice his footfall. It’s only when his hand brushes my shoulder that I realise he’s home. I’m about to reach for his hand when it strikes me his touch is too light, the hand too small and soft.

  I leap to my feet, my heart beating double time.

  Molly’s hands are resting on the back of the sofa, slim and pale against the throw. She looks fragile, her clothes loose, her eyes over-bright as if she has a fever. “I’ve come to see Jack,” she says.

  I can’t get to grips with what she’s saying. I mean, I hear the words just fine, but she’s standing in my apartment as if there’s nothing exceptional in letting yourself into someone else’s home.

  “Molly you scared the hell out of me. How did you get in?”

  She doesn’t answer, simply gazes at me with her pretty blue eyes, looking for all the world as if it’s completely normal to be here.

  “Boyd will be home any second.” My words are meant as a threat. I’m hoping she’ll panic and leave. She has to know Boyd’s gonna be pissed as hell she’s here, but she only nods, her fingertips disappearing into the wool as she squeezes the throw.

  I squash down the fear and repeat my earlier question. “Molly, how did you get into the apartment?” I worry she can hear the panic in my voice, that it will trigger a reaction, but she seems oblivious.

  “I need to speak to Jack,” she says, drifting trance-like around the sofa, perching on the edge as if she’s scared it will swallow her whole. “Could I have a drink? I’m thirsty.”

  “Molly ...”

  She gazes up at me, a picture of innocence and I find myself saying, “There’s coke in the fridge.”

  “Coke would be lovely, thanks.” She smiles, eyes dreamy, her smile bland and meaningless.

  I take the long route to the fridge, keeping her in sight, reaching in blindly for a Coke. She’ll have to drink it from the can. No way am I giving her a glass. I check the time on the oven clock as I pass, silently praying that Boyd won’t be long.

  Molly stares at the can in my outstretched hand and when she finally she takes it, I sit on the other sofa. Like her, I perch on its edge. I want to be able to jump up fast should I need to.

  The snap of the can’s tab is followed by a light fizz as she takes a dainty sip. I’m staring, but she refuses to meet my gaze, sitting primly, knees together as she looks straight ahead. She’s wearing a navy skirt and matching navy pumps, a perfect fabric bow at each toe. Her shirt’s dotted with pastel blue flowers, the buttoned collar hanging loose, same as the cuffs at her wrists. The way she’s sitting, with her knees together and her hands resting on top with the can in between, she looks like she’s here for a job interview.

  “Boyd’s playing football,” I say. “Least he was. He should be home soon.”

  “I know,” she says.

  I can feel my eyes widening. “You do?”

  “I followed him. He knows I follow him. H
e always gets away, but today I drove a hire car and kept out of sight.”

  I stare in horror. Boyd knows she follows him?

  “I waited in the car park until he was on the pitch, then I snuck into the changing rooms and stole his key from his sports bag. They should lock the doors. Anyone could have walked in and taken what they wanted, but I only took his door key.” She smiles her peculiarly empty smile again. “I thought I’d surprise him.”

  Damn right she’s gonna surprise him. “Molly, I think it might be a good idea if you leave before Boyd gets back. He’s going to be mad as hell.”

  She shakes her head, her expression earnest. “Not with me. Never with me. Besides, I need to speak to him.”

  I try again. “Molly, you stole his key and let yourself into his apartment. You think he’s gonna let that slide?”

  Her blue eyes narrow. “He won’t get mad with me. He’s different with me.” She deposits her can on the table beside Boyd’s books, almost friendly when she says, “Tell me something, Kayla. Why do you stay with him when you know he loves me?”

  It’s not easy remaining calm when all I want to do is scream in her face, but I contain my temper and answer honestly. “I love him.”

  She smiles as if she understands, but there’s a flash of malice in her eyes. “Girls go crazy over Jack. You should have seen them lusting after him at my wedding, hanging on his every word, pressing their bodies up against him. He ended up fucking two of them in a threesome.”

  I recoil in shock and she offers me a condescending smile. “You didn’t know he was like that? Funny how he keeps secrets from you. He didn’t tell you about me following him either, did he?”

  I can understand why Boyd wouldn’t want me knowing about a threesome. As shocking as it is, it’s his past and I think I can let that go. I think. But him not confiding about being followed by Molly? That stings.

  “I’m sure Boyd has his reasons for not telling me,” I say, but she’s not fooled. She laughs derisively.