by Fiona Lowe
Luke kept his arm around Chloe, hearing her soft voice, listening to her story and wishing desperately that she didn’t have a story to tell because he knew it was going to be hellishly bad. No gynaecologist would remove a sixteen-year-old’s uterus unless he had no other choice. Unless it was to prevent her death.
‘Nick, as the first born,’ Chloe continued, ‘was the golden boy who could do no wrong—and, unlike me, he never did. I love him dearly and sadly my actions cost him a lot. Unlike me, he toed the family line, obeying my father, working hard at school and generally doing what was asked of him.’
He stroked her ear. ‘It’s my understanding that in Greek families it’s often a lot easier to be male.’
The flecks of brown in her eyes shone starkly against the khaki green and she gave a small nod of agreement. ‘My father has certain beliefs about how women should be raised and educated. At the end of year ten he refused to re-enrol me at school. I was bereft. I tried pleading, crying, throwing things. You name it, I did it, but it was useless. Nothing Nick, my mother, the principal or I could say or do would change his mind. Legally, I could leave school.’
His utter shock at a child having her education stolen from her must have shone on his face because she gave him a wan smile.
‘It’s archaic, I know. My father had my life planned out according to what he considered was best for me. As well as helping Mama at home, he ordered me to work in my uncle’s fish and chip shop. I hated that job almost as much as I hated my father, but there was one positive…’ She shrugged. ‘Well, at least, at barely sixteen I thought it was a positive.’
‘What was that?’
‘I got to walk to and from the shop each day, which gave me fifteen minutes of blessed freedom there and back. My Anglo friends fell into two camps. Those who thought I was incredibly lucky to be out of school and those who couldn’t understand. Rick, a good mate, fell into the “couldn’t understand” camp and he’d meet me in the park to give me books and homework pages so I could try and keep up. Nick helped too.’
He’d always liked Nick Kefes. ‘He’s a good man, your brother.’
‘Beyond good.’ She blew her nose and blinked rapidly. ‘I got away with doing schoolwork at home for six months until my father found my stash of books and went ballistic, including scaring Rick so much that he was too petrified to help me again. From then on I was escorted to and from the shop but my father couldn’t control the people I met while I was working and I met Darren, an apprentice carpenter. I started sneaking out at night to meet him.’
She gave a short, tight laugh. ‘He was my knight in shining armour, promising me that he’d save me from my life and we’d move in together. We were just kids but I was so desperate to get away from home I believed him. To cut a long story short, we had sex and I got pregnant.’
Her tone reminded him of when he told people about the car accident. Anna died. Emotionless, detached, pragmatic. It was the only way to tell the story without breaking down.
He wanted her to know he understood. ‘That must have been terrifying for you.’
‘At first it wasn’t because I truly believed that Darren would take care of me. It took me a couple of months to even realise I was pregnant so I was twelve weeks before I told him. He promised me everything would be fine and then he disappeared and never contacted me again. I didn’t believe that he was gone for good so I waited a few weeks and then panic set in.
‘I was seventeen weeks pregnant, I had no money, no friends, and my mother and brother had limited resources to help me. And I knew my father would throw me out of the house if he ever found out. It was the first time in my life I realised I was utterly alone. I visited a clinic and had a late-term abortion.’
She shuddered against him and he immediately pulled her back in close against his shoulder and pressed a kiss into her hair. ‘It sounds like you didn’t have a choice.’
She sucked in her lips, her jaw tight as if she was readying to get the next bit of the story over and done with as fast as possible. ‘I went home after the termination, told my mother I had a heavy period and went to bed. The pain was excruciating and I truly thought I was dying. I didn’t realise that I was. When Nick came home from doing my shift at the shop, I was almost unconscious and half my circulating blood volume was in the bed. He called an ambulance and I arrested on the way in.’
Her voice became the one she used at work—brisk, factual and professional. ‘For most people a termination of pregnancy is very safe but I was unlucky. My uterine wall was very thin and the procedure perforated it. To save me, they had to sacrifice—’
‘Your uterus,’ Luke interrupted, wanting to save her from having to say it.
She nodded. ‘And things went to hell after that. My father, having had the doctor at the hospital explain to him the reason why his daughter had almost died, kicked me out of the house the day I was discharged home. He met me at the front door with my bag packed. I’d shamed the family.’
Luke thought of Amber and his heart cramped in his chest. How could any father do that to their child? ‘Surely Nick helped you?’
Her eyes swam with tears. ‘Nick saved me. When our father refused to have me home, Nick left too. We spent a few weeks in emergency housing and then, with both of us working in menial jobs, we managed to get a flat. The fact Nick passed his year twelve that year is testament to his brilliance.
‘I was barely functioning on any level, but I feared being homeless more than anything so I kept working. I cleaned houses, I waited on tables and did pretty much anything I could to earn money. I owed Nick so much and I happily worked two jobs to help him get through six years of medical school. Three years after that, when he started his obstetrics specialisation, I enrolled at university and started nursing.
‘It was the best thing I ever did and in the last couple of years I’ve really found my feet.’ She shot him a look that said, Don’t disagree with me. ‘I’m happy and content.’
He wasn’t convinced. ‘You’re a great nurse and I’m glad for you that you love your job. But you do know that there’s more than one way to have a child. Plenty of couples adopt.’
She stiffened as if he’d hit her. ‘I used to think that way too,’ she said tartly, ‘right up until two years ago when my then fiancé broke off our engagement because I was incapable of giving him his own child.’
Luke wanted to hit the unnamed bastard. ‘You deserve so much better than that, Chloe.’
She shrugged. ‘Yes, well, it’s a moot point really, so it doesn’t matter.’
‘Don’t say that.’ His words rushed out, hating it that she sounded so resigned. ‘You’re beautiful, bright and vivacious. Any decent guy would be lucky to have you.’
She turned and lifted her gaze to his, doubt shimmering in her eyes. ‘What planet do you live on, Luke? I’m damaged goods.’
He wanted to blast out her doubt and her cynicism, make her realise how truly beautiful and amazing she was and how much she deserved to be loved. Only he knew how inadequate words could be. How little they did to help when life threw up moments of immeasurable cruelty, and how easy it was to dismiss and discard them. No, words were useless here. This needed action.
Without pausing to think, he lowered his head and kissed her.
Luke’s lips touched Chloe’s so very lightly that for a fleeting moment she thought she must be imagining the connection. Her mind had to be creating the idea of him kissing her and fulfilling a long-held dream, because there was no way it could possibly be real.
Her tongue traced the edges of her bottom lip and she tasted a hint of mint and a soupçon of musk—the flavours of Luke. Then the tip of her tongue registered a different feel—his lips. Flavours met fire, her entire body lit up with blinding need and she opened her mouth and took him as hers.
She heard a guttural moan in the back of his throat, and in it she recognised longing, wanting and lust that perfectly matched her own. Her hands reached out, pressing against him, feeling th
e strong musculature of his chest underneath the soft cotton of his shirt. She spread her fingers, needing the touch to believe this was really happening.
His hands cupped her cheeks, tilting her head, angling her mouth to his, and then he deepened the kiss. His tongue caressed her mouth so gently and so reverently that one tiny part of her wanted to cry. The rest of her was too busy riding the waves of wonder, joy and rising desire to think at all.
His lips and tongue roved over her mouth, finding the special places that directed the spinning rafts of tingles zipping in her veins straight to her core. He captured her moans of sheer delight with his mouth and returned them to her more potent than before. She needed to feel him, all of him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and in the process knocked her glasses against his head.
‘Ouch.’ He laughed, rubbing his temple where her frames had dug into him.
‘Sorry.’ She put her fingers over his.
He stared at her through glazed eyes.
She held her breath, cursing her glasses for breaking the moment and waiting for him to realise they’d been kissing each other like a couple who’d been given two minutes to live. Waiting for sanity to move into his out-of-focus gaze and pull him away from her completely. The way it had every other time they’d shared a sexually charged moment.
You can be the one to stop this right now.
I don’t want to.
And she didn’t. It had been so long since she’d been made to feel like a desirable woman that she didn’t want to let the feelings go. She was no fool. She certainly didn’t have stars in her eyes that this meant anything more than the two of them giving in to the lust that had shimmered and spun between them for weeks. It wasn’t a future—it was just now.
He smiled at her. Her heart sang and then everything went into slow motion. He reached out his hands and slid her glasses off her face, discarding them on the coffee table. Then he gently dragged the hair-tie from her ponytail and ran his hands through her hair, smoothing it down before carefully bringing it over her shoulders. ‘That’s better. Now I can see your beautiful eyes.’
Bringing his head down close, he kissed her eyelids with such delicacy that as her head fell back she cried out from the sheer joy of it. As he lowered her on the couch, she slid her hand between the placket of his shirt, the backs of her fingers brushing his skin. Shocks of wonder rocked her and she pulled him down with her.
He trailed kisses from her jaw to her hairline, before burying his face in her hair. ‘You smell like a tropical fruit basket.’
She laughed. ‘Is that a good thing?’
He rose up on his arms and stared down at her, desire hot and glittering in his eyes. ‘Absolutely.’
‘You smell like salt and sunshine,’ she said, unbuttoning his shirt.
‘Is that a bad thing?’
She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and marvelled at the view. ‘I’m not complaining.’ Rising up, she pressed kisses to his sternum, tracing her tongue along his skin—sucking, licking and tasting—the heady combination making the muscles between her legs twitch. She was desperate to feel him inside her.
He shuddered at the touch of her mouth and she wanted to high-five someone. Anyone. She wanted to call out to the world that she’d made that happen. Luke Stanley wanted her. Her.
The muscles on his arms bulged as he pushed up from her and shucked his shirt. Then he leaned back on his haunches and grinned, his face alight with desire and devoid of all the strain and pain she always associated with him. ‘Someone’s overdressed.’
His long and dextrous fingers whipped her T-shirt over her head and then his gaze shot straight to her aqua and black lace bra. He groaned. ‘Do you have any idea how tough it’s been, seeing your underwear on my clothesline and imagining what it looks like on you?’
Her nipples puckered in delight that he’d been working as hard as she had to fight the attraction between them, but a niggle of worry made her say, ‘Sometimes reality doesn’t live up to expectation.’
His fingers traced the black lace that decorated the edge of the bra and brushed the swell of her breast. ‘The reality’s more than fine, Chloe.’ He lowered his mouth and suckled her through the lace.
White light streaked through her and she bucked against him, feeling his erection through his jeans.
‘If you like that, then you might like this.’ He focused his attention on her other breast until she was writhing under him and desperate to get rid of the bra so she could fully enjoy the hot and wet ministrations of his mouth against her tight and begging skin.
She pushed at his chest. ‘Take it off. Now. Please.’
‘Anything you say.’ He reached one hand around and fumbled with the clasps.
The bra didn’t move and the thought that he was out of practice flitted across her mind. She batted it away—fast—not wanting to think about the reason why he was out of practice. Real life didn’t belong here. This was just a moment in time between two people who needed to lose themselves in each other.
The bra finally fell away. She dropped it on the floor next to his shirt and immediately wrapped her fingers around his belt. ‘Let’s get rid of everything, then, shall we?’
‘I like the way you think.’
He kissed her hot, hard and fast as she pushed his pants off his hips and down his legs so he could kick them off.
Neither of them had factored in shoes and one moment he was kissing her and the next he was on the floor. Half laughing and half concerned, she managed to splutter out, ‘Are you okay?’
He rubbed his hip and gave a wry smile. Grabbing her hand, he said, ‘I’m too old for couch sex and you deserve better. Come on.’
‘Just a sec.’ She reached for her shirt, suddenly embarrassed she had to run to his bedroom half-naked.
‘Oh, no,’ he said, his fingers flicking the shirt out of her grasp. ‘No one is getting dressed.’ The next moment she found herself hefted over his shoulder, held in place by one of his hands deliciously splayed over her bikini-clad bottom. Lucky for her, the thin silk did nothing to shield her from the heat of his palm and the gentle and delicious kneading of his fingers.
As he strode down the hall and entered his bedroom, she trailed her hands down his naked back until she slid them underneath the elastic of his boxer shorts, cupping his buttocks.
He stopped with a jerk. ‘Do you want me to drop you?’ he asked, his voice gravelly with desire.
‘Only if you fall with me.’
He lowered her carefully and then, like a jet-black panther, he crawled slowly up the bed, his moss-green eyes fixed on her face. As he moved, he trailed the forefinger of his right hand up the arch of her foot, along her shin, across her inner thigh. Just as he got close to the apex of her thighs and she was breathing out, ‘Oh, yes, please,’ he skirted the sensitive area and traced his finger around her hip. From there he skated it across her belly until it came to rest between her breasts. Her skin burned for more of the addictive and erotic touch.
Now he was straddling her, his lean body all corded muscle, taut tendons and thick, blue veins. Powerful and strong, he hovered over her, trembling with leashed tension ready to be cut loose on her, but she had no fear. He was beautiful. She wanted him so much but well-honed survival skills kicked in despite the risk that it would bring his past flooding back and ruin everything.
She raised her hand and cupped his cheek. ‘Condoms?’
A muscle tensed in his jaw. ‘I don’t have any.’
She held his gaze. ‘It’s not a problem unless you have something.’
‘I’m fine,’ he said abruptly.
The next moment his lips pressed hard against hers and she lost her breath to him, as if he needed it more than she did. His tongue lashed her mouth—taking and giving, searching and finding. His desperate need for her overpowered everything, as hers did for him.
Her body sought his, pressing against him, feeling his length mould to hers and yet wanting to be even closer. Her hands roved
all over his back, caressing, exploring, finding the dips and the crevices and committing them to memory. Wanting this to last for ever but knowing it was just one moment in time.
His mouth dropped down her belly, his tongue swirling around her belly button stud as his fingers found her aching, throbbing clitoris. She gasped, thrashing underneath him.
‘Am I hurting you?’ Concern stopped his fingers.
‘God, no, it’s amazing.’ She moistened her lips at the touch she’d never known from a man before, and was amazed at how much her body begged for it. ‘Keep going.’
His deep and melodic laugh rained over her as his fingers worked their magic. Whirls of sensation built on each other, each strand intensifying the delight until she lost touch with the sights and sounds of the room and with the feel of the mattress against her back. The only thing that existed were his fingers on her and the agonising ecstasy that surged through her, demanding she ride it to the peak and be willingly thrown wherever it took her.
Lights danced across her vision as her head whipped from side to side. Control slipped utterly and she screamed his name. As she shattered into a river of bliss, his mouth covered hers, sharing the moment.
She broke the kiss and gripped his shoulders. ‘Thank you.’
He smiled gently. ‘You’re welcome.’
She pushed his shoulder, rolling him over and going with him. ‘I think that deserves a return favour.’
His fingers drew circles on her buttocks. A muscle twitched in his cheek. ‘Can I choose the favour?’
A shiver shot through her at what he might suggest. ‘Maybe.’
He whispered in her ear and she relaxed. ‘No problem.’
After all, he’d just given her the best orgasm of her life and she trusted him implicitly.
She rose up on all fours and his hands massaged her back and her breasts, making her body sing before he gently entered her, the length of him filling her completely. She sighed at how good it felt. His lips touched the middle of her back as he started to move slowly and she met each thrust with her own.