‘Hurting me is ignoring me, hurting me is making me feel like I did something wrong.’
‘It wasn’t you. It could never be you.’
‘Then why push me away? Why didn’t you let us live out the holiday fling we agreed to at least?’
‘Because I’m no good for you; it was better to end it sooner—’
‘Bollocks, utter bollocks!’ And I kiss him. I kiss him so hard. I kiss him to punish him for four months of hell and making me believe the worst. I kiss him to make him remember just how good it was and I keep kissing him until his hands fall from my wrists to cup my arse. To urge me closer. His groan is music to my strung-out clit as he lifts me onto the counter, shoving the plates aside, his mouth taking all that I give freely now.
I wrap my legs around him, draw his hardness tight against me, telling him with my body that I want this. Here. Now.
He grips the bottom of the T I’m wearing and pulls it over my head. ‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’
‘We should,’ I argue against his lips, too delirious to think straight.
He drags his mouth from mine, his stubble grazing over my jaw as he trails kisses to my neck, his teeth nipping, his hands hot and urgent over my skin.
‘I can’t give you more though, Cait. I can’t.’
His movements are as frantic and as brutal as his words, as though he needs to brand me with them, to be sure I understand.
‘Stop with the more,’ I say, gripping his head, tugging at his hair to pull his mouth to mine. I sink my tongue in deep, silencing him, claiming him, before yanking him away so that my eyes sear into his. ‘I’m not asking for more.’
He studies my face, seeking out the lie, and I launch myself at him before he can see it. Kiss him until he’s growling low in his throat before I pull back enough to say, ‘Okay?’
‘Yes.’ His nod is swift, his hands fierce as he yanks my lower body against his clothed cock. ‘You killed me last night.’
His eyes are on fire as he leans back to take in my nakedness, my skimpy thong the only thing remaining, and shakes his head. ‘That elf get-up... Christ, Cait. I wanted to haul your arse out of there and fuck you so hard.’
‘You should have.’
‘I hate Christmas.’
‘I know, but that only made it more fun.’ I tug at his T-shirt, urging it over his head. ‘And, for the record, you should have. You should’ve dragged me into that back office and fucked me so hard for taunting you like that.’
He grinds against me, his breathing unsteady, his body vibrating with the effort it’s taking to keep himself restrained. But fuck his restraint, I want all of him and I rake my nails down his chest, marking him, loving how his pecs ripple, how his sharp inhale hisses through his teeth.
‘You should have punished me, Jackson.’
His eyes darken and his jaw pulses.
‘Is that what you’re afraid of? That I won’t enjoy it.’
He grits his teeth. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
I know he means it. I get it even more now, but it only makes this hotter. I lean up to him, suck his bottom lip between my teeth and bite down.
‘You could never hurt me in that way.’
‘Cait.’ It’s a groan, a warning.
‘Fuck me, Jackson.’
It’s a demand. Not to make love, but to fuck. I’ve learned my lesson and my eyes are hard as I lie back and stare up at him, daring him to deny us this. I plant my elbows on the countertop and pinch my bottom lip in my teeth, rolling my hips to caress his clothed cock and he sucks in a breath.
‘You really want this?’
I nod.
‘This?’ He thrusts down his lounge pants, unveils his hard, throbbing length as he fists over it and my body gives an excited little squeeze.
‘Hell, yes.’ I eye him brazenly, desperate. He works himself with his fist, the tension rippling through his entire body. It’s so fucking sexy and I know if he denies me now I’ll be reduced to tears. But I know my dirty mouth drives him on and I’m not backing down.
‘Fuck me like you wanted to last night. Hard.’
His eyes flash as his hand slips between my legs. ‘Fuck, you’re so fucking wet for me.’
I nod and ride his fingers, pleasuring myself on their force as he thrusts three in deep, his thumb rolling over my clit. My insides quiver, my climax coming so quick.
‘Now, Jackson.’
He’s so quick—one second I’m filled with his fingers, the next he’s yanked my thong aside and filled me with his erection. Yes. Pleasure streaks through my limbs, the ecstasy of it making my head roll back, my body arching as I plant my hands on the cold kitchen surface and feast on him. He’s hard, jagged, his thrusts taking his all to control and I ride him, urging him deeper, harder, with my bare heels pressing into his arse. And then his thumb is back on me, rolling over my clit, nursing every ache, taking me higher and higher.
‘Fuck Cait, what are you doing to me?’
I force my head up and look him straight in the eye. ‘Fucking you, Jackson, we’re fucking...’
The delicious heat is pulling my body taut and my breathy moans are getting louder. I hear the clatter of cutlery hitting the floor, but I can’t keep myself in place; it’s building too fast, too intensely.
I force my eyes to stay open, to see that he is with me, and watch his climax unfold. He roars with it, the pleasure cording his neck, through his body. It’s a sight I want to engrave in my memory, and I stave off my release just long enough to feed on his and then I am gone. The explosion sending my body upright and he pulls me in, holding me tight, whispering things that are far too sweet, far too soft for him to mean, but I’m listening anyway.
‘Some breakfast offering,’ I whisper when I can finally manage to speak.
‘It wasn’t what I had in mind.’ He presses a kiss to my shoulder. ‘I wanted to apologise.’
‘And you did. The sex was the icing on the apology.’
He laughs, low in his throat. ‘Friends again?’
I nod. ‘Friends...with benefits?’
He shakes his head as he holds me tighter against him.
‘What can I say? I truly am a naughty elf...’
‘If you’re offering me a private show in that number, friends with benefits it is.’
My heart gives a little leap; my tummy flutters alive. I want to ask if he’s serious, but Jackson doesn’t just say shit to keep people happy. He means every word that comes out of his mouth.
So why doubt the sweet nothings that came out of his mouth just seconds ago?
I know why. Because to believe them would mean believing in the possibility of more. And he’s made it clear. Never. Going. To. Happen.
I don’t dare lean back and look up at him for fear of what he’ll read in my face. Instead I wriggle in closer, indulging in a second’s more intimacy.
‘Now let me go,’ I say to the ground, my smile too big for my face, ‘so I can clean up and eat this amazing spread before it gets cold.’
He laughs softly and does as I ask. ‘Luckily, most of it seems to have survived.’
I crouch down for his T. ‘Bathroom?’
‘Back the way you came, second door on the left.’
‘Great.’
I feel his eyes on me all the way and give an extra little wriggle as I pull his T back over my head, feeling his come slick between my thighs. I’ve never felt so alive. Who’d have thought sex was a miracle hangover cure?
It’s not sex with just anyone though. It’s with Jackson.
I let myself into the bathroom and close the door, shut my eyes and lean back against it. I take the deepest breath in, seeking calmness, a way to talk down the chaos taking off inside me. The chaos that takes me down a dangerous path to wanting more...the more he’s incapable of.
But it’s
no use. I’m high on adrenaline, on sex, on him. I shiver as I recall how much he wanted me, how much he wanted to punish the naughty elf.
Elf, one.
Blondie, zero.
My smile freezes and my memory stutters to life, flashes of words that were said in the night. In the darkness. Jackson was with me in the bed, curled against me and...
I remember.
The man who won’t make love, the man who’s made it clear he doesn’t do relationships... He loved her.
Jackson loved Blondie.
My stomach rolls and I get to the toilet just in time. If only I could throw my heart up and make it hurt less too.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I GLANCE ACROSS at Cait in the passenger seat, take in her pensive expression as she stares out of the window and I admit I’m worried. Ever since she returned from my bathroom she’s been edgy, distant...
Either that or I’m just transposing my inner anxiety onto her.
I know we’ve made an agreement—friends with benefits—nothing more. It’s an arrangement people embark on daily at Blacks and one that beats the last four months of nothing. No Cait, no fun, just...living.
I rub the back of my neck. No, I don’t want to go back to that.
But I can’t forget our conversation in the dark. And no amount of replaying her declaration that she doesn’t want more can wipe out her whispered ‘I want you’ or, worse, ‘You just can’t love me’.
A good man would still put her first. A good man wouldn’t have screwed her over the breakfast bar. A good man would have put her in a taxi and got her the hell away from him.
‘Bollocks,’ she blurts.
I send her a look. Is she in my head? ‘What’s up?’
‘I forgot the wine I pulled out to bring.’
I remember seeing it on the side in her kitchen but hadn’t thought to mention it. I’d been far too busy second-guessing her behaviour.
‘No problem. I have a case in the boot; you can grab one of those.’
She laughs and the sound is everything I need to hear. ‘Do you always travel with one in the boot, just in case?’
I laugh as my shoulders ease, my grip around the steering wheel relaxing. ‘It’s a new wine I’m stocking at the club. I picked up an extra one for me and haven’t unloaded it yet.’
‘Now who’s playing Santa’s Little Helper?’ She gives her trademark grin, the one I missed so much during our time apart and which smacks of all things naughty and nice.
‘I think the elf outfit suits you far better than it would me.’
She laughs all the more. ‘True.’ Her eyes stay fixed on me and the atmosphere around us softens into something else. ‘You really didn’t need to drive me, you know.’
‘Driving you here is part of the apology. It’s my fault you were in that state in the first place.’
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, Stud.’ She waves a hand at me, all alive and vibrant now. ‘You may rock my world in the bedroom department, but you don’t get to control me out of it, and it was me that put away that drink last night. Not you.’
‘Whatever, just—’
‘Take the next left.’
She gestures to the turning up ahead and I indicate before looking back at her. ‘Whatever the case, it was my club, my tab, I should have cut you off.’
‘Ooh, are you getting all masterful on me again? Because if you want to pull over and—’
I laugh. I can’t help it. She makes me feel lighter, our relationship already easy again. I turn the car down the street and realise it’s a private road with several exclusive gated developments.
I give a low whistle. ‘Nice.’
‘Well, when you’ve got five kids you need big, not necessarily nice. We’re just lucky enough to get both. Though we tease Mum and Dad that they owe their success to us.’
‘That so?’
‘Yup, if they hadn’t had five kids their company wouldn’t be the market leader it is. There’s nothing they don’t know about baby care.’
I frown. ‘Your parents are the Careys?’
‘You hadn’t worked that out already?’
‘I guess I never really thought about it.’
‘Yup, Carey’s Baby Care has a ring to it, doesn’t it?’ She laughs. ‘I’m still not convinced Mum didn’t load Dad up with whisky the night she got him to agree to the name—Gah.’
I wince as I look at her. ‘Whisky?’
She nods and presses the button to open the window a little, angling her face to the breeze and breathing in deep. ‘It’s the next one on the left.’
I almost don’t hear her. I’m too hooked on her hair blowing back off her glowing skin and it takes a sudden bump in the road to remind me I’m supposed to be driving.
She picks up her phone. ‘I’ll just open the gate.’
I slow the car and contemplate dropping her off here. I’m sure she can make the remaining distance in one piece. Instead I turn the car down the drive as the tall iron gates roll back.
Trees line the driveway, fairy lights already twinkling in their bare branches, and as we approach the circular courtyard in front of the double-fronted redbrick house I see icicle lights follow the roofline all the way along. The wraparound porch is littered with decorations too, from light-up reindeer to illuminated topiary bushes and even a swinging seat complete with an elf.
‘Take it your parents go all-out at Christmas?’
‘Oh, yeah. Proper Mr and Mrs Claus this time of year. Now you know where my elf costume idea came from.’
‘Somehow I don’t think your parents would approve of that particular get-up.’ I pull up in the courtyard but keep the engine running and turn to look at her. I’m still not ready to let her go. This fresh ease we’ve found is too appealing; she’s too appealing, even in her sparkly Christmas jumper, jeans and boots. Perfectly modest, super casual and festive. The last should be enough to put me off. Instead, I look at Rudolph’s sequinned nose on her chest and think of the colour that creeps into her face when she climaxes.
‘What are you thinking about?’
My eyes shoot to her face. ‘You don’t want to know.’
She leans into me, her fingers combing through my hair at my nape. ‘When it puts that fire in your eyes I do...’
She kisses me, her mouth teasing my lips apart and sending the heat rushing south. We had sex not that long ago, and the instant she touches me I’m ready again. She palms my thigh as she leans in further, deepening the kiss, and I release the steering wheel to fork my hand through her hair.
‘Why don’t I come by your place tonight?’ she murmurs against my lips.
‘Sounds good.’
‘What t—’
‘It’s about time!’
She freezes in my hold. Hell, I freeze. I don’t want to open my eyes and see who’s just spoken. Amidst our frantic breaths I can hear approaching footsteps on the gravel outside and risk a peek to see a beaming version of Caitlin many years from now.
‘I think it’s your mum,’ I whisper.
‘Oh, God.’ Her eyes widen. ‘Could be worse though. It could have been one of my brothers.’
I think I take her point. I can just imagine what four older brothers would do to a guy like me, pulling up in his blacked-out Range Rover and making out with their little sister in the front seat. Still, it’s better than being caught in the back...
‘Caitlin, love! Aren’t you going to get out and introduce us to your friend?’
‘Hey, Mum.’ She gives me an apologetic smile and leans back into her seat to look out of the gap in the window. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
‘Nonsense.’ Her mum pauses beside the car just as a Golden Labrador races up beside her, tail wagging, tongue lolling out. He plonks himself down beside her with a bark and she strokes his head and beams. ‘I know, Alfie; I was just think
ing the same. If I’d known you were bringing company, love, I would have peeled more potatoes. You are stopping, I hope?’ She’s looking past Caitlin to me and...and I swallow.
Stopping? Hell, no.
There are more footsteps on the gravel.
‘Marlene, did you tell Max to put the tree—’ The male voice stops as he comes into view, a tall man, greying hair at the temples, wearing suit trousers with a shirt and jumper even though he’s nowhere near an office. Her father, definitely. His eyes narrow as he takes us both in and I immediately feel like a randy teenager caught in the act. And Jesus, if my cheeks don’t flush a little.
‘Hello, love, who’s your friend?’ he asks.
‘Mum, Dad, this is Jackson.’
‘Mr and Mrs Carey.’ I duck my head a little as I look to them both with a nod and a smile that I hope is innocent and in no way mortified. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘Get yourself out here, lad. No good sitting in the car and keeping us all waiting.’ Lad? When have I ever been called lad? And what the hell do I do now?
‘It’s a good job you brought an extra pair of hands, Cait, love. Think your mum has outdone herself with the new decorations this year.’
You don’t have a choice. You’re going to get out of the car and join them.
Cait gives me another apologetic look and this time it’s a full-on grimace. ‘I’m sorry; you don’t have to.’
She’s letting you off. Take it.
But as I look into her eyes I can’t do it; I can’t make up a reason to leave. I don’t want to. Except we’ve just been caught snogging in the car, which means there’s going to be some explaining to do. Friends with benefits isn’t going to cut it with her folks. Shit.
I clear my throat. ‘It’s fine; it’ll be...fun?’
I say it with a mixture of apprehension and humour, and her eyes sparkle back at me, her mouthed ‘Thank you’ worth every bit of discomfort.
She turns and opens her door. I do the same, the expression out of the frying pan and into the fire dancing through my brain.
Time to get my festive on...
Not awkward...not awkward at all.
Unwrapping the Best Man Page 13