Forbidden to Touch

by JC Harroway

  Blair mistakes my silence for apathy.

  ‘But perhaps the sex was a mistake. Perhaps it’s time to call this a day. We had a good time...’ She swings her bag up onto her shoulder and crosses her arms over her chest.

  The urge to hold her, to feel her body against mine, grows to impossible levels. I know how good it will feel. I know that nothing else will matter while she’s there and all my worries will lessen. I know I’d do anything right now to ensure it happens.

  ‘And if I don’t want to call it quits,’ I say, stepping a fraction closer, although not as close as I’d like, which is naked and inside her, making her eyes soften with pleasure.

  That seems to startle her. The pulse in her neck flutters and the answering thud of my heart batters my ribs. ‘Look,’ I say, my voice strangled, ‘you’ve been honest, so allow me to return the favour. I was thrown by your appointment to renovate the Faulkner, which Graham arranged without my knowledge. I run a tight ship, I always have, but now, with things...unravelling, with my always capable, energetic father behaving so erratically...you can understand how concerning—’

  ‘Of course I can—’

  I plough on. ‘And despite all of that going on, I was blindsided by seeing you again. You’ve changed, or I’ve opened my eyes. I was reeling from my attraction to you and you were so capable, so vehement about your contract, so...driven and in control, and while I admire that trait in business—’ I swallow, emotion thick in my throat ‘—if I’m brutally honest, I’m a little distracted by Graham’s diagnosis. Bottom line, I was underprepared for you.’ I wave my hand in her direction, encompassing the entire, spectacular Blair package. ‘All of you.’

  My words settle between us, charging the warm summer air with kinetic energy, until I’m certain something will need to break to snap the tension. But I’ve never waited for something to come to me in my entire life, always making things happen, striving until I have what I want. I’m not about to start now when what I want is as tempting as her. I reach for her hand and she doesn’t pull away, her fingers flexing against mine a soothing balm in more ways than one. But it’s not enough. I want more of Blair Cameron for my own selfish reasons, reasons I refuse to examine too closely. Fuck, I hope she still wants me for hers.

  Taking a leap, I tug her to my chest, wrapping my arms around her slim shoulders, dwarfing her physically even as she seems to envelop me—the scent of her hair carried in the hazy air, the crush of her soft breasts against my hard chest, her small hands on my waist holding me together where the shudders of something that feels suspiciously like fear seep from my every pore. I hold her until my own heart rate slows, not giving a fuck that she can probably feel it beating against hers, that she’ll know how much I care, how sorry I am and how exposed it makes me. The feeling is so rusty, I can’t name it, or choose not to.

  I kiss the top of her head, and pull back a fraction so she can see the sincerity in my expression.

  ‘I don’t doubt you professionally and neither do Kit and Drake. They loved your plans for the renovations. Brothers just like to talk shit to wind each other up—it’s a trait we’ve carried from childhood, I’m afraid.’

  She nods, but her eyes are still haunted, her voice when she speaks flatter than I’ve ever heard it. ‘They don’t approve of us fooling around.’

  I wince. I’d seen the way Kit reacted to my obvious closeness to Blair, but then, like now, I considered it irrelevant. ‘I don’t give a fuck. Do you?’ The ugly swirls of fear return, my stomach twisting. If she says yes, that no-strings sex was fun, but family judgement is a distraction she doesn’t need, that I’m too old for her after all, that we don’t have enough in common or that’s it’s just not worth it... I grip her tighter. The reaction makes no sense—she’s right, all we’ve shared is a handful of orgasms, but already this feels like more, feels as if we’re heading into dangerous territory. Trouble is, I don’t want to retreat. I’m selfish. I want her for as long as it lasts.

  When she shakes her head, her chin lifted in defiance, I practically growl and press my mouth hard to hers as euphoria pumps around my body. Without interference or my own stupidity, our connection is simple—A plus B equals... What? A good time? If I’m honest, we’ve already surpassed simple physical gratification. She makes me feel invincible, makes me feel the optimism I associate with the man I was in my early twenties.

  ‘Good. Come home with me.’ I clutch her closer.

  She laughs, a delightful sound that restores my equilibrium more than her words of reassurance or the lust simmering in her eyes.

  ‘Just because I accept your apology doesn’t mean I’m ready to forgive all your transgressions.’ She tilts her pelvis and crushes my dick with her soft belly, bringing me back to life.

  I grin; press a kiss to her irresistible mouth. ‘I’m happy to pay for my crimes—there must be something you want in recompense.’ I slide my hands over her hips and cup her arse, pressing her forward to increase the friction.

  ‘Hmm...’ She pretends to think, her eyes dancing. ‘There might be one thing... But I’m not sure you’re up to the job, being so old and set in your ways.’

  My laughter blasts from me, draining any residual doubt. She’s incredible—generous and caring and fearless. ‘Well, if anyone can keep me on my toes, it’s you. Why don’t you give me a shot? There are worse ways to die than from pleasure.’

  Malicious delight fills her expression. ‘Who said anything about pleasure, especially yours?’ Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she grinds against my now hard cock, her actions contradicting her threats. ‘I think your transgressions require a forfeit.’

  Excitement pumps my blood harder, so I’m ready to give her anything. I was the minute she left the hotel without looking back. ‘What’s the forfeit?’ I’m not used to handing over control and I’m sure I won’t like it. But my blood pounds in case I fucking love it.

  ‘The driver’s seat.’ She gives me no time to absorb her words before she spins, tugging me behind her towards my house. I sling my arm around her shoulder, caging her to my side while my mind sifts through her possible meanings. Does she want to tie me up? Blindfold me? Do I care? Any fantasy of hers is okay by me, because she’s honest about what she wants.

  But before I get carried away, I have more I want to say.

  ‘Thank you.’ I squeeze her closer, hoping she reads my heartfelt gratitude. ‘For the chess. For playing along again. I’m sure it’s upsetting that Graham seems to have forgotten how he knows you.’ At her small shrug, I drag us to another standstill and kiss her again, trying to banish the slightly lost expression from her eyes. I linger over kiss after kiss until the atmosphere lifts, in no hurry to get home. She’ll have to have her wicked way with me in the road. But all too soon we resume our walk.

  ‘How did you know he played?’ My father taught all three of us to play, stating it fostered healthy competition without risk of coming to blows, although we Faulkner brothers managed to throw a few of those back when we settled things with our fists.

  ‘We played at a Hoteliers Association conference I attended with my dad back in the days he thought I’d simply join the family business instead of pursuing my own dreams—not that there’s anything wrong with family businesses, of course. Graham was there too. One day, he spied me sulking in a corner somewhere, challenged me to a game and then happily thrashed me. I always respected him more for not letting me win, and of course for taking the time to coax a moody teenager out of herself.’

  Her tale is bittersweet, reminding me of the powerhouse Graham has always been, and how much I’ve relied on his always being so. ‘He always wanted a daughter, I think.’

  Blair’s arm tightens around my waist. ‘You’re really concerned about him, aren’t you? Are things worse than you’ve let on?’

  ‘The honest answer is I just don’t know, but we’re all concerned. He has an appointment with the Ha
rley Street specialist this week. Hopefully we’ll know more about his prognosis then.’ But I don’t want to think about the future, about how a man I’ve always looked up to and relied upon may change, diminish before my eyes.

  ‘That’s good. I believe there are medications that can slow down the progression of dementia. And my father hasn’t said a word, so perhaps only those closest to him are aware of the changes.’

  ‘Thank you for saying that. For everything. I never realised just how close you two were.’

  We walk the rest of the way in silence, perhaps each lost to our memories of the good old days when Graham was the rock, full of wisdom, sage advice and readily given support.

  And, where only minutes ago I was certain Blair would be gone from my life as quickly as she’d entered it, it now feels like she’s always been a part of our tight-knit little circle, and perhaps always should be.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Reid

  THE MINUTE WE enter the house she spins and backs me up against the front door, until she’s pressed against me, shoulder to thigh. I’m already hard because I’ve anticipated that the minute we touch, my doubts, my fears, the need to fix something out of my control will settle, the tension of stupidly almost losing her draining away.

  She deserves better than me, better than an older, cynical, set-in-his-ways bachelor. She’s bravery to my caution, laughter to my cynicism, sunshine and smiles and a hundred other fucking feel-good clichés, and one day, when she’s ready, she’ll move on to a relationship she deserves, perhaps marriage.

  The thought sours my tongue but I swallow it down. I’ve had my shot and I’m on the slippery slope to forty. But by some miracle she’s still here, willing to forgive me, albeit with a forfeit in mind, one I’m only too happy to pay.

  ‘This time I’m calling the shots, my hands on the steering wheel—is that too challenging for you?’ she whispers against my lips, her hips undulating so she’s massaging my dick between our bodies with every move.

  ‘You can steer this, as long as I can dictate the number of times I make you come.’ It kills me, but I keep my hands hanging by my sides, when everything inside me fights to touch her, to make things right between us the only way I know how. But I want her to know I’m in this. That I can keep my promise, keep the sex separate, even if the demarcation, at least for me, blurs a little.

  Her eyes flare and I want to start straight away, to chalk up an orgasm tally so long she loses the strength to walk. ‘Okay, but this time we’ll be banishing a few ghosts.’

  ‘You know where the bedroom is.’ My voice turns husky with the need strangling me, and it takes every ounce of control I possess to keep still.

  ‘Hmm, that sounds kind of...middle-aged.’ She grips the belt loops on my jeans and tugs my hips, dragging our lower halves impossibly closer. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me. I see confirmation in her eyes, which dance with excitement and something wicked, something pure Blair—challenge.

  ‘So what exactly did you have in mind?’ If she stokes the fire in me any higher, we’re going to burn ourselves clear through the door.

  ‘I want to live out my sofa fantasy.’ She doesn’t wait for my response, merely takes my hand and drags me down the hallway and into the living room.

  ‘You have a sofa fantasy?’ I tilt my head in the direction of the cream sectional sofa that dominates this room. ‘Not that I’m complaining—there are six pieces of upholstered furniture in this house and I’m happy to abuse each and every one of them for you, but didn’t we cover that with the chesterfield in my office?’

  ‘Humour me.’ She releases my hand and inches closer to the furniture. ‘Remember when I told you how I discovered Josh’s cheating?’

  Of course. She found him on the sofa... My stomach rolls with compassion, every thump of my heart promising retribution if I ever meet her ex. I tug her into my arms, ready and willing to give her some better memories. ‘I’ll give you anything you want, Blair.’ I cover her mouth with mine in a slow, lazy exploration of our duelling tongues, because I’m weak where she’s concerned, and I’m done being patient. I wrap my fingers around the back of her neck and hold her mouth on mine. Without breaking the kiss, I bend my knees, scoop my arms around her waist and lift her so she’s plastered against me from shoulders to thighs. I kiss her until we’re both panting hard and then I allow her to slowly slide down to the floor, so her breasts and the heat from between her legs slide all over me. I twist my mouth away with a groan. ‘Fuck, you’re so sexy. Get naked—let’s abuse my sofa.’

  She laughs, steps back out of reach, pressing one fingertip to my lips. ‘Uh-huh. You get naked.’ Her voice is breathy. Having me willing and ready to be her man-toy excites her so her nipples prod through her bra and T-shirt.

  My hands settle on the swell of her hips. I want her close, at arm’s length, as if our disagreement has left me craving a deeper connection.

  She smiles a sexy half-smile. ‘Touch yourself again.’

  I lift one eyebrow, biting back my eagerness to comply. ‘You like that?’

  She nods, her breath hitching. ‘I liked that you couldn’t stop yourself the first time. That you wanted me that much.’

  Something in my chest surges anew at her stark honesty, her embracing what she wants. She completely dismantles me. ‘I want you more now.’ Fuck, what is she doing with me—a distrustful, workaholic divorcee? There must be a thousand men her age lined up. That last thought has my jaw clamped so hard I hear my enamel creak.

  ‘Show me,’ she says, reaching for the hem of her T-shirt.

  I yank my own shirt off over my head, pop my fly and release my cock, my heart thumping when her aroused stare drops to my crotch. I grip myself, lazily tugging while I shove my jeans and boxers down my thighs with my free hand. I stare into her eyes. ‘I want you, Blair.’

  She licks her lips. ‘I see that. But do you trust me?’ Her bold question hangs in the air as she slides her jeans down her legs and kicks them away together with her shoes.

  ‘Yes.’ The truth of that single word surprises me, but it’s not a lie or false assurance to get laid.

  Like this with her, just the two of us, I’m as authentic as I’ve ever felt.

  ‘We’ll see,’ she says, wriggling free of her bra and swiftly adding her lacy underwear to the pile of discarded clothing on the floor, until she’s gloriously naked, and every muscle holding me together strains her way.

  ‘Look at you,’ I croak out, my eyes gorging on her naked breasts, her tight nipples and the sweet haven at the top of her thighs. My chest tightens with repressed need. Need to go to her, to touch her and make things one hundred per cent right between us, where words fail me. Because I’m not as brave as Blair, not as open and fearless. But I want to give her what she needs. This is about her—her pleasure, her in control and me making amends, no matter what it costs me.

  ‘Don’t stop,’ she whispers.

  I groan, the effort to be everything she wants weakening my knees. She chews her lip, her stare still torn between my face and my hand pumping my cock.

  She joins me then, her hand slipping between her thighs, and her fingers find her clit, her whole body jerking in confirmation and her eyes half-drugged with lust as we stand face-to-face. Open and exposed and vulnerable.

  ‘That’s a wondrous sight.’ I’m struggling to talk, so good is the vision of her pleasuring herself while my dick is in my hand, but I don’t want to rush this. I want to show her that I care about her despite the years that separate us or what anyone else thinks. But we’re on her timescale.

  She sways, a flush staining her chest, and I’m jealous of those slick fingers between her legs. I want to be the source of her pleasure. I want her moans and her ecstasy and her orgasm so she sees the way I feel about her and her beautiful seduction, without words.

  I pump faster, the needs of my body growing harder t
o ignore.

  She rushes me then, the slam of her naked body colliding with me almost knocking me off my feet. Her mouth crashes to mine and I scoop an arm around her waist and fill my other hand with one deliciously round arse cheek, backing us up towards the sofa as I struggle out of the rest of my clothing while I walk and try to get my mouth back on hers.

  At the last minute, I trip over my own shoe, my feet tangled up in my discarded jeans, and I lunge for the sofa, holding on to her waist and taking her down with me, so my fall ends with me on my back and her sprawled all over my chest.

  We laugh and kiss and laugh some more. But as we emerge from the moment, the fire is still there between us, still there in her eyes, nicely banked.

  ‘Perfect,’ she says. ‘This is exactly where I wanted you.’

  I sober at the reminder she’s in charge, my punishment for careless words. Not that lying under this naked woman is in any way a negative. But old habits die hard, and I can’t help but wonder. ‘What are you going to do with me?’

  ‘I’m going to take care of you.’ She kisses me, a lazy, decadent feast of lips and tongue and her sexy little moans. She straddles my thighs, loosening the hair tie from her hair so her ponytail spills free. There are two of them. I watch in fascination and mounting excitement as she loops them together and slips one around each of my wrists, sparkling eyes returning to mine. ‘It’s symbolic—I know you could easily snap them if you wanted to.’ Her hand delves between her legs, gripping and tugging my cock. ‘I’m going to make you feel good.’ She holds her breath for a beat or two and then says, ‘Is there any reason I can’t take care of you without the condom?’