Something Borrowed

by Louisa George

  Then she felt the whisper of his breath on her face, and she dragged her damp fingers away just before he slammed his mouth over hers in a hard, greedy kiss that had her melting into him.

  She opened her mouth in response, and he stroked his tongue across hers, the sweep of sensation after sensation rippling through every inch of her body. His spicy scent enveloped her. His arms reached around her neck as he hauled her against him, gripping to her as if she were a lifeline in a stormy sea. And with each moment in his arms, she felt more of her defences smashed against the rocks.

  She knew why kissing was so damned dangerous. It was so intimate, so raw and so real. It opened up parts of her heart that she’d slammed shut. It made her crave him more and more and more.

  His initial reluctance only proved he was trying to protect her. His tenderness showed her his heart. His steady grip gave her hope to cling to, and above all of those things, the ceaseless pulsing ache for him to be inside her, rocking with her, filling her, was a need she’d never experienced before. She curled her hands to his neck and kissed him hard, noticing the exact moment when they had stepped over that line, and that sleeping with him was not only inevitable but necessary.

  ‘You do realise we’re breaking a zillion rules,’ he groaned, as he lifted her to sit on the gleaming steel counter, sending trays of rising dough skittering onto the floor with a series of crashes.

  ‘Whatever.’ She imagined he was talking about kitchen hygiene and health and safety, but what the hell. This was her dream, her rules. ‘Rules are made for breaking.’

  ‘Some are for your own good.’

  ‘For example?’

  His thumb smudged across her lips as he pushed her legs apart with his hips and stepped into the space, leaning closer, ever closer. ‘No kissing.’

  ‘How can that rule be for anyone’s good?’

  His hands fisted in her hair now, tugging her closer, his mouth hovering a fraction above hers. ‘Because it leads on to so much more.’

  ‘Good.’ He was saying this to make sure she was okay, she understood, to smooth the way, to stop embarrassment, and to prove that he was the gentleman she knew he was. But somehow he’d relieved her of her dress; she could barely remember how, but there it was in a puddle on the floury floor. She laughed as he slicked a hot trail of kisses along her breast and sucked her nipple into his mouth. The giggle turned to a moan as he pressed against her, his erection pushing against the super-sensitive part of her thigh. She was half naked, in just bra and panties and stilettoes, yet he was still all cheffed-up and with far too many clothes on.

  ‘Take this off.’ Dragging at the hem of his top, she inched it over his head and threw it, wishing there’d been a way to do that without him taking his mouth from her skin.

  But oh, God… she swallowed deeply, drinking him in. That French sun had been very bloody good to him. Tanned shoulders gave way to solid, thick biceps, toned pecs and a tight, ridged stomach. Her eyes widened as she focused from one exquisite part of him to another. He was a dream come true. She ran fingers across his chest. ‘Wow, Vaughn. You are amazing. Bloody amazing.’

  ‘And you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.’ He cupped her breasts in his hands and leant to kiss them again. She wriggled her bottom to the edge of the counter and squirmed against him. At the touch of her heat, he groaned, and all talking stopped.

  Kissing her again, he stripped her of her underwear then circled her thigh, nudging her legs further apart, slowly sinking fingers into her core. Intense pleasure ripped through her as he stroked and explored. She could feel pressure inside her lighting up, growing more intense as he pulsed his fingers inside her. She was on the edge. Hanging on, holding on with a tiny sliver of self-control. She wanted him inside her—only then would she allow her release.

  This time, when she reached for him and felt his hardness under her hand, he didn’t stop her. With shaking fingers, she undid his waistband button, and he kicked the rest of his clothes away. Then he was naked in front of her. Magnificent. Assured. Turned on.

  God, how he was turned on.

  She took him in her palm, relishing the strength, the heat, guiding him to her. ‘Condom?’

  ‘Sure.’ He turned briefly, rummaged in a pocket in his trousers on the floor, and when he turned back, his eyes glittered with desire and a tenderness she’d never seen in him before. ‘Chloe, we don’t have to—’

  ‘Yes, we bloody well do.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, we do.’ Those eyes bore into her and there was so much he wouldn’t say, so much she could see in those dark irises that he refused to give a name to, and she knew then, knew with all her heart, that she was fooling herself if she thought this was going to be simple.

  But it would be beautiful. It would be like her dream. It would be hers. It would be theirs. And whatever came after she would deal with.

  But for now… just for now…

  His mouth covered hers, and shivers of need ran through her and over her. The kisses were hard and desperate and hot. She wanted him inside her so badly, so damned badly, and nothing else would ever be enough. Nothing… and no one. This was a man who wanted her, who connected with something in her that no one else had ever reached.

  She wound her legs around his hips and wiggled to the very edge of the counter, showing him what she wanted, what she needed. And then he was pushing inside her, gently at first as she moaned his name, his mouth on hers, his eyes locked with hers. Over and over she whispered his name, and over and over he answered her, pushing harder and deeper until she was lost in the rhythm and the sensation and his scent and those dark, serious eyes that told her he was captured by this connection too.

  Then there was a change in the air, a shift in his breathing and in his rhythm that sent a charge through her, rising and rising until she couldn’t think anymore until every cell in her body exploded into a pulsing crescendo that had her bucking with him. Her mouth craved more kisses, and her hands ached to feel his skin under her touch—it would never ever be enough. She pressed herself closer and closer to him, moulding her body with his, sharing this release, giving him everything, losing herself in us, losing herself in this, until he lost himself too, further and deeper, and further and deeper.

  And always, always, always, those dark grey eyes glittered with the truth; there was nothing simple about this at all.

  He held her close to his chest, head on her shoulder, his lips pressed gently against the dip of her collarbone. It was the kiss of a man who wanted more, but who was satisfied for now. And he was not letting go.

  It was a long time before either of them spoke. But there were still moments of tender kissing, touching his face, looking, caressing. Of wonder at what had just happened between them.

  Eventually, he pulled away and looked around at the fallout. There was dough rising in small puffs on the floor. Tin trays tipped over, resting against the counter legs, discarded across the tiles.

  He smiled and brushed a stray lock of her hair away from her face. Then he passed her her bra and pants with a glint in his eye. ‘What do you want to do now, Chloe?’

  ‘You know what? I want to go to sleep wrapped up in you and wake up with you in the morning. That’s all. I don’t want to think past these moments. I don’t want to spoil this. I want it to last… at least until tomorrow.’ She had a feeling she wanted so much else, but saying those words would muddy everything. ‘Come home with me?’

  ‘Of course.’ And so he tidied up the kitchen and went home with her. All she’d had to do was ask. And it was pretty damned scary that he was here in her bed. Two parts scary, and two parts miracle.

  It was still night-time as they lay again, exhausted and satisfied, still drunk on the magic of what had happened over the last few hours. Vaughn laughed as he wrapped his arms around her. ‘I didn’t have much time to look before, but this is a nice place you’ve got here.’

  She curled her fingers into his and stared up at the huge, intricate ceiling rose in her bedro
om and remembered the week she’d taken off work with Jason to decorate the room. Back before the good old days had turned bad. ‘It’s old and has its issues, but I do love it here. I feel like I have a haven of peace in the centre of everything. We had such a lot of plans for it.’

  His words were against her neck. ‘Ah, yes. Plans. The road map for life until reality gets in the way. Shit happens.’

  ‘Life has a way of not working out how you expect, that’s for sure.’ Like this. Like him. But then she realised maybe he wasn’t talking about now, or about Jason, maybe he was talking about his past. Chloe’s heart began to beat fast. ‘Are you talking about…?’

  There was a long silence. She lay with it, not wanting to force him to speak, but wishing he would. In the darkness, she reached for his hand and held it tight against her heart.

  Eventually, he stirred. Not asleep, then. Just thinking.

  ‘Bella. Her name was Isabella.’

  ‘The name of your restaurant in Paris. I always thought it just meant beautiful or was referring to the setting or the food.’ It had never occurred to her to question the reason behind its name. She’d always thought he was just a little too arrogant, just a little too sure of himself. She knew different now as he lay beside her. Knew he was giving and thoughtful. ‘Tell me about her.’

  ‘Not a chance.’ He shifted a little, making space between them, but his voice was still soft.

  She turned over to face him, her face close to his, her body against the length of his. ‘Why not?’

  He smiled, but it was a reluctant one. ‘Chloe, this is so not the right place.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I don’t want you to talk about your relationship with Jason. I don’t want to think about you with him, so I imagine you don’t really want to know about Bella. Why would you?’

  Chloe didn’t know why she wanted to hear about his Lost Love; she only knew that she did. ‘It might explain a few things. It’s part of you—it’s good to know why you’re the person you’ve become. If I asked about your childhood, you’d talk about that, right?’

  One shoulder rose and fell. ‘I guess.’

  ‘And about your restaurants, and your parents? Family? Pets?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So why not talk about Bella? Unless… unless it’s still too painful.’

  He frowned. ‘If it was, I wouldn’t be here.’

  Good. Because she so did not want to be the rebound shag. Even if that was what he was. Was he? Actually, there was nothing about the end of her relationship with Jason that had spurred her to sleep with Vaughn. If anything, her experiences with Jason had had her running from any man. She hadn’t needed sex to obliterate him from her head. Far from it, she’d wanted Vaughn to fill her mind with all those wondrous scents and tastes and memories and… yes, emotions too. She wanted to feel attractive, to be more than a sister, daughter, businesswoman. She didn’t know whether that was the same kind of thing for Vaughn. ‘I did wonder.’

  ‘It was so long ago, Chloe. Such a long time ago.’ He seemed to understand then that she needed to know he’d compartmentalised his feelings for Bella and done the same with any feelings he may have for Chloe. That they were separate and in no way linked. That he’d managed to lock his past back where it should be. Because she knew, despite how hard you tried, past experiences made you act in a certain way, made it harder for you to trust or to give your heart. She knew because she was struggling herself with this. She liked Vaughn—she liked him a lot—but she’d liked Jason too, and that hadn’t ended well.

  She wanted this to end well. Or not end at all.

  He sat up and stacked the pillows against the wall before leaning against them. But that didn’t seem to give him any comfort, so he turned and faced her, a sheet covering the most exquisite part of him. ‘We met at uni. We were friends first—’

  ‘I didn’t realise you went to university. But then I only ever got snippets of your life from Jason… and he probably only got snippets from your mum? Right?’

  ‘Like I’ve said before, Jason and I are cousins, and we made that best man pact years ago. Neither of us felt we could break it. But we’re not close. I hardly wrote to him every week with details of my life.’ He held her hand as he spoke, intertwining his fingers into hers and resting them on his thigh. ‘I completed the first year and a term of the second. Then Bella got ill; lots of non-specific things that she shrugged off because it didn’t suit her to go see a doctor. Basically, we were too busy having fun. But then she got really sick, and we couldn’t ignore the obvious fact that something was seriously wrong. I took her to the hospital where she was diagnosed with cancer, and when she was forced to leave her studies to get urgent treatment, I followed. It was too much for her to go to those sessions on her own, have her appointments, and no one there to be with her.’

  ‘That would have been hard for you to go through. What about her parents and other friends?’

  Again with a shrug of one shoulder. ‘She wanted me to be there, so I was. Her mum was devastated and dramatic, and that didn’t help Bella at all. I ended up being a buffer between them.’

  ‘I imagine that she reacted like that purely just out of love for her daughter?’ Chloe imagined how she would react to Evie getting seriously ill. Then she struck that thought from her head. She wasn’t going there.

  ‘It was. It came from a good place, but Bella couldn’t cope with all the tears and the cloud of doom, she called it. Bella was one of those once-in-a-lifetime people you meet.’ His eyes lit up at the thought of her. Light and darkness. ‘She was so upbeat, a little whacky, and full of plans and ideas and dreams. We planned that when she finished her treatment, we’d go travelling and see everything she wanted to see.’

  ‘Sounds lovely.’ Chloe sensed there was a ‘but’ coming.

  ‘But she didn’t finish her treatment. The chemo made her feel terrible. There were days when she couldn’t lift her head from the pillow, she had no energy, she was being violently sick and in the end, she decided that this wasn’t any way to live and that the chemo was only prolonging her life, not curing the cancer. That she’d rather spend the days she had left seeing wonderful things and living well.’

  ‘With you.’

  ‘With me.’

  There was a lump in her throat, now, at the life that was interrupted at such a young age. And guilt too, that because Bella died, Chloe could be here with him at all. He’d done nothing except give everything he had to this woman. How could Bella not have loved him? ‘What kind of cancer was it?’

  ‘Liver. It had spread. There wasn’t any hope. There would never be any respite or all-clear… we were kidding ourselves. They were just words I used to make each day more bearable.’

  ‘Did you get far in your travels?’

  He smiled at some memory. ‘We got as far as Paris, and then she became too ill to do anything else. The cancer spread rapidly, and I had to bring her home. She didn’t want to come back. She begged me not to bring her home because she knew then she was going to die. But I had to; we had no way of getting treatment in France. I didn’t speak the language back then. I couldn’t let her die there.’ The smile was gone now along with the light as he shook his head. ‘It felt like I’d failed her.’

  Chloe squeezed his hand. ‘But you did all that. You put your life on hold for her. You didn’t fail her. You loved her.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I did.’

  They sat for a few moments in silence as this all sunk in. She let him live through his memories, saying nothing. What could she say? What could she do? He’d been through something life-defining, something devastating, and it felt, to Chloe, as if some of her own joy had been stolen too. All the while Vaughn had been going through this, his cousin had been planning weddings, living his life, two-timing his girlfriend and never mentioned a thing. ‘I still can’t believe Jason wouldn’t have known some of this.’

  ‘I didn’t broadcast it. Jason and I weren’t in touch much then. My
family tried to understand why I’d dropped out of university. They didn’t particularly like Bella—she was too fiery for them, and they thought she’d ruined my life chances. Mum kept it quiet.’

  He sat looking hollowed out, eyes rimmed with black and edged with a terrible emptiness. Chloe felt that asking more would be intruding on something too intimate and painful. But she didn’t really know what to do or say next. She knew enough from what Jenna went through that there was nothing that could heal such intense loss. That living each day, no matter how hard, was the only way to survive. He’d been so young. So in love.

  And he’d trusted her enough to share his most painful moments with her.

  She also knew that sometimes there were just not enough words to offer or to comfort, so she sat with him in the half-light, her hand over his, feeling vulnerable and naked and… intrusive. ‘I’m so sorry, Vaughn. That must have been terrible to live through.’

  ‘Actually, she was very upbeat. She grasped at life and chased it hard. She was never going to let the cancer beat her spirit, even if it beat her physically. She was a lot of fun; you’d have liked her.’

  ‘I’m sure I would.’

  ‘She was a lot like you. But different, you know.’

  Chloe didn’t know how that was supposed to make her feel. But there was a chasm in her chest, and it was filling with panic and loss. She was here because some other woman had died. She was the second choice, second best. And yet, she still felt honoured that he’d chosen her.

  As if suddenly waking from a dream, he shook his head and raked a hand over his face. ‘God, I’m sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Passion killer, or what?’

  ‘I did ask.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have gone on.’

  ‘It’s okay. It’s not as if any of us come baggage-free, is it? We all have pasts; we’ve all been through something and survived. It’s good to talk about it.’

  ‘No, it isn’t, and not here. I’m sorry.’ He glanced around her bedroom as if realising for the first time that he’d committed the sin of talking about his first true love after sex with someone he wasn’t committed to. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her down the bed. ‘Let me make it up to you.’