by Donna Alam
‘I’m sorry about your mom.’ I’m not a recreational drug user myself. I tried pot at college once and ended up having my one and only ever panic attack. Everyone else? They get the munchies, a silly buzz, or super relaxed. But in my specialness, I ended up in the emergency room, terrified I was having a heart attack.
‘I hope you don’t think too badly of me.’
‘I try not to judge people.’ I mean I do judge people, but I try not to. In my book, that counts.
Despite having a nice afternoon, I know I can’t afford to let Julian get under my skin. He’s been open and frank about his drug use, and so apologetic it’s beginning to get on my nerves. I understand he’s had a tough year, but something just doesn’t seem right. Or maybe I’m just much more guarded than I ordinarily would be. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and I’ll probably die alone, surrounded by cats.
But he’s also been very open about his motivations for the future; his hopes of settling down. I think I’d ordinarily find this refreshing and possibly a little exciting, but for some reason, I’m not feeling it. Maybe because I’m not going to get ahead of myself. Or maybe it’s the silicone effect. As in, seeing him so enamoured by the type of girl who isn’t me.
And quite honestly, as we walk and chat, I can’t help but imagine what the experience would be like if Will was here instead of him. He’d probably be silly and threaten to throw me into the lake or something just as ridiculous. Snap my panty elastic or my bra strap. Probably both. And we wouldn’t be talking about the future, unless it involved a bed, or a table, or maybe a mantle to brace myself against.
‘Sadie, are you sure you’re okay?’ I nod my head quickly, realising I’d fallen quiet, lost to my thoughts. ‘At the risk of repeating myself again, I am so sorry about Saturday evening. There just isn’t an adequate excuse. And I’m sorry you saw me with—’
I hold up my hand, halting his apology. ‘It’s none of my business.’
‘It isn’t now.’ His eyes slide from mine, his fingers tentatively entwining with mine. Funny, but I feel nothing—not a twinge of excitement or a jolt of electricity. I literally feel nothing at all. ‘But I’d like it to be.’
‘I should head back,’ I answer. ‘Sir Lancelot will be waiting for his walk.’
‘Rejected for a dog.’ He smiles, overshooting the need to look cute. ‘Bit of a ridiculous name for a dog, isn’t it?’
‘I’ve heard worse.’ I’m not going to get into how unchivalrous he is.
‘Well, this is me,’ I say once we reach the fancy street. ‘Home, for now, at least.’ The sun shines, and the wind whispers through the trees. A man has walked me to my front door after a very enjoyable afternoon. That should make me happy, right?
Then why does something feel amiss?
Then, as the parking gates at the end of the street begin to slowly open, and a midnight blue car drives towards the building’s parking bay, I do feel the stomach fizzing sensation of excitement I’ve been looking for today.
Or maybe it’s not excitement. Maybe it’s entirely something else.
Chapter Twenty-Three
WILL
The peculiarly instant burst of pleasure I’d felt at seeing Sadie in the street is short lived. Short lived because of the prick she’s standing with. As I sit behind the darkened windows of my car, my mind runs over our phone call this morning. She said she’d be busy today but didn’t say what she was doing.
Was she purposely vague because she had plans to do him?
And she’s made no mention of Julian at all—not since Saturday. What the fuck has changed between then and now?
As they talk, he seems to making moves to get a little closer, whether trying for a goodbye kiss or a welcome fuck, I can’t be sure. Either way, it’s not happening on my watch.
Unfolding my frame from the car, I shut the door with a solid thunk that draws Julian’s attention. From the other side of the street, he frowns unhappily as my legs quickly eat up the space between her and me. Because he’s inconsequential. A fly in my ointment.
And fuck that for a game of soldiers if he thinks he’s got a chance.
‘Sadie, sweetheart.’ Placing my palm low on her back, I bend and press my lips against her cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And while it might be dressed up prettily as a greeting, Julian knows as well as I do that this is the human equivalent of a dog pissing up a tree.
Mine.
‘I didn’t ask how you knew Will,’ Julian says evenly, though I can see the calculation in his gaze. I can also see the space between their bodies, postures speaking without the use of words; he’d wanted to get closer, but sweet Sadie was having none of it.
‘Yes, well . . .’ she begins, disconcerted.
‘We’re old friends. Aren’t we, Sadie?’ I shoot him a friendly wink even though every muscle in my face aches.
‘He means we’re neighbours,’ Sadie qualifies, refusing to rise to my bait. ‘For the summer, at least.’
‘And you just love being under me, don’t you, love?’ Take that how you will, Juju. Don’t let me stop you crying wee-wee-wee all the way home.
‘Will!’ Along with her rebuke, Sadie nudges me with her elbow. But my hard gaze isn’t for her. It’s for him. What the fuck is he doing here? And how has he wormed his way back in?
They’re an unlikely coupling, for sure. Sadie isn’t cheap, or easy, or into kink, as far as I can tell, unlike his usual conquests. Then it strikes me—those labels could just as easily be applied to me. Except I’m a little more discerning, I’d like to think. And I have relationships. Occasionally . . . briefly. Admittedly, they last weeks rather than months, but they’re more than just connections of flesh and tongues.
I like women. I even have female friends. Well, I have Ella. She’s my friend. Even if I did try to lure her away from Mac. But it was a half-hearted attempt. An infatuation that lasted five minutes.
And it’s not entirely my fault I’m a bad bet. That’s just the hand life has dealt. On the surface, I look like the eligible type, but scratch the superficial shine, and you’ll see something else.
‘How’s your father?’ Julian asks. Same circles and all that. Plus, our fathers are friends. ‘I heard he had the Ivanoffs visiting last week. Have you met Will’s father, Lord Travers, I mean?’ He turns to Sadie, who shakes her head. It all sounds like a polite enquiry, but the bastard knows I wouldn’t have Sadie within the same square mile radius as the man. I imagine he’s also betting on my not having mentioned the old man’s title. So now I look like I’m hiding things.
‘You haven’t visited Travers Hall, either, then?’
Fuck, it just gets better and better. Look at the smug bastard rattling all my familial chains.
‘You aren’t missing much,’ I interject. ‘It’s a great mausoleum of a place.’
‘Americans love a castle,’ he says with a gleam. ‘Maybe Sadie would like to visit. It’s in a beautiful part of the highlands, or so I’ve heard . . . ’ His taunting words trail away.
‘Sounds like a weekend away. What do you say, Sadie?’
Point to Will. Though we wouldn’t stay in that draughty old pile. Perish the thought.
‘Grouse season starts in a few weeks,’ he says. ‘Maybe Will could take you then?’ What the fuck is he up to? And for the first time since this pissing competition began, Sadie looks confused.
‘Do you shoot?’ he asks her in an amiable way.
‘No, I . . .’ Her eyes dart back and forth between us, her cheeks turning red.
‘Of course, she doesn’t shoot,’ I reply, taking her hand. If he’s trying to belittle her in front of me? Like I give a toss whether she can shoot bird chased from a fucking tree.
‘I don’t think Veronika does either. Maybe they’d make good companions. Strange that the Ivanoffs visited this month.’ See that steely look in his eyes? Pure calculation. ‘Maybe they were hunting something else. How old is Veronika now?’
‘No idea,’ I respo
nd blandly. ‘You’d have to ask her.’
I’d like to punch the smug smile off his face. Pissing competitions are all well and good, so long as the innocent aren’t hurt, yet that seems to be his aim.
‘I thought you were sleeping?’ Sadie tugs on my hand, releasing it just a quickly. Her cheeks turn pink immediately, whether because she’s embarrassed for lying to me this morning, or imagining us there in bed, it’s hard to tell. ‘Y-you worked last night.’
‘Oh, yes. The eminent Dr Will,’ Julian says in a tone that could be taken for pleasantness. If you didn’t know him, that is. ‘I heard you took over your uncle’s practice on Harley Street.’
I ignore him. It’s that or punch him.
‘I did sleep, and when I woke, I went to the pet shop.’ See, I can ignore him. I don’t have to resort to violence.
‘Collar and lead?’ Julian asks pointedly.
‘I bought some training aids for Sir Lancelot,’ I say. ‘The bag’s in the car.’
‘The white knight and the hound,’ he says, nastier still for being ignored.
‘Yes, well, I’d like to say it’s been nice to see you again, Julian . . .’ But I won’t, as I take Sadie’s hand and lead her up to the front door. ‘See you around.’
I nod at the porter, hooking my arm under her elbow and steering Sadie in the direction of the stairs. Sure, we could take the elevator, but I’m a little too angry for small spaces. Small spaces with her.
‘Not that I owe you any explanation or anything,’ she begins, ‘but I didn’t blow off breakfast because I was going out with him.’
So long as you didn’t blow him, I manage not to snipe as my temper begins to slow to a simmer from a boil. What the fuck was she thinking?
‘You’re right. You don’t owe me anything.’
I can’t see her expression as she jogs up the stairs, though the view from below is pretty spectacular as her ballet flats pitter-pat. An arse made for squeezing. Hips made for gripping.
I contemplate her outfit. Pale coloured ballet flats, a tan coloured skirt, and a pink capped sleeved blouse, the tops of her arms slightly pink from having caught the sun. Her dark butterscotch hair is piled on top of her head. She looks good enough to eat—like Neapolitan ice cream. The good stuff. The kind you only get in speciality shops.
‘You look nice.’ She looks over her shoulder, murmuring her thanks. ‘Like a woman going out on a date, actually.’
‘I don’t think I like your tone.’
‘And I don’t like you companion.’
‘I’m sure women get that a lot when you’re with them,’ she says, searching in her purse for her keys as we reach the right floor. She slides said key into the lock, and I watch the delicate bones of her wrist as she turns it.
There’s no sound of the dog, so I guess he’s in day care today. Mo is a mercurial fuck, but he does love his mutt.
‘Cute.’ For a such sweet word, it weighs heavy with an awful lot of retort. And it seems I’m not done. ‘Come on, get your arse inside there, plum.’
‘Don’t you call me that,’ she says, stepping through the open door and spinning rapidly on her foot. Her pretty little skirt blows up like a tulip.
‘What are you smirking at?’ Her hand falls to her cocked hip as I answer her with a warning.
‘He’s not a nice man, Sadie.’
‘I’m sure he’s not the only one on the wanted list of the morality police.’
‘I don’t claim to be perfect, but I do care about you.’
‘Care about me, or want to control me?’
‘Your life’s your own, sweetheart. The only control I’ll ever need is when I fuck you.’
‘Yeah,’ she says with a flip of a wrist. ‘Like that’s going to happen again.’ Her attitude and her stance have me instantly hard. I love a little fight in a girl. A little pushback. ‘And I mean ever again.’
Sure, you do, sweetheart.
As I take a step inside, Sadie shuffles back a little, the gleam in her eye no doubt matching mine. Her fingers fall away from the handle, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. It could be a sign of anger, but something tells me that the root is far from that.
‘You can’t just barge inside here uninvited.’
I close the door and turn, letting my gaze slide in a lazy perusal of her body. Her nipples pebble under her shirt.
‘It’s a good job I’m much better at asking for forgiveness than permission then, isn’t it?’
‘God, you’re so frustrating.’
‘And you’re smarter than this.’ I fold my arms over my chest and lean my back against the door. ‘He’s no good for you.’
‘And you are?’
‘No.’ I shrug. ‘I’m not right for you, either.’
She laughs hard. ‘I get it,’ she says, stepping closer. ‘What Julian was hinting downstairs. I get it; I do. Ella explained it to me already. You think we’re too different.’ Standing in front of me, with her arms still folded, her words are knife sharp and pointed. ‘You don’t think I’m good enough for you.’
Sadie, Sadie, Sadie. How can you be so blind?
‘Sweetheart, you’ve got it the wrong way around. I’m no good for you.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
SADIE
I’m stunned. Again. What the fuck is wrong with men? And I want to retort but can’t. His expression is too serious. Too alert. And a little bit frightening.
‘What do you want, Will? Will, the future lord. Will, the fancy doctor. I don’t know why you’re here, other than you seem to have some beef with Julian.’
‘Yes, because that’s it. I engineered our whole meet-cute last weekend because I do feel the need to fuck up Julian.’ When he puts it like that, so sardonically, I want to slap his face. ‘That’s not to say I don’t want to fuck him up for sniffing around you like the dog he is,’ he continues. ‘Because I do, but that’s not what grown-ups do. Instead, they seethe and pout. A bit like you’re doing now.’
‘Oh, go to hell,’ I say, turning away when he grabs my arm.
‘I’d rather go to heaven. Inside you.’
‘And I’d rather eat snails,’ I snap back, full of snark.
‘I recommend you do,’ he responds, pulling the Alice band out of my hair and throwing it to the floor. ‘A little garlic butter makes everything slide down better.’ He begins undoing the pins while I do nothing to stop him.
‘Maybe I should douse you in some.’ My words sound husky, wanton in their response. And how is that possible when we’re talking about the things you find in gardens, hiding under pails? Or the stuff that makes your breath smell?
‘You didn’t seem to mind how I tasted the other day. In fact, this morning when I showered, I almost came in my own hand as I remembered you tasting yourself.’
Vines of desire begin to creep across my skin, twisting in my belly, and drawing my nipples. Damn him and his memory and his dirty mouth.
‘You can’t say things like that.’
Will leans infinitesimally closer. ‘Why? Are you hard of hearing? Because I just did.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Original but oh, so tempting.’
His tone is laced with dirty promises and feels like a hundred fingertips running across my skin. We come together like waves crashing on rocks. Fingers grasp, lips punish while seeking to possess.
Resting his arms on my shoulders, he pushes me farther into the living room, all the while his fingers plucking at my clothes. My hair is down and my shirt tossed to the floor as he picks me up and threads my legs around his waist, thrusting his tongue down my throat.
And I take it, imagining it’s something else. Moaning at the sensation and the dirty thoughts running through my head.
‘You won’t see him again.’ His voice rasps, his teeth grazing my shoulder, pulling my bra strap.
‘You don’t get to say.’ I sound like I’ve been running, my words breathy and taut as I cross my ankles on his back, pulling him to me, moaning deep
er as he flexes, then pushes my back against the cool wall, grinding against me in a desperate kind of relief.
‘I’m going to fuck you so hard,’ he grunts, his fingers digging into my ass cheeks. ‘You’ll be feeling me next week. I’m going to fucking ruin you, Sadie. And when I have, you’ll never want to see him again.’ I’m not particularly interested in seeing him anyway, but I don’t tell Will that. Instead, I reply huskily, ‘Do your worst.’ I moan as he places his mouth against the swell of my breast, grunting as his teeth sink into the soft flesh.
Oh, God.
‘Yes! And tell me about that shower again.’
‘Fuck me, Sadie. Where have you been?’
We bump from the wall to the back of the sofa, Will supporting my weight there for a beat to flip open the back of my bra. I lick my lips at his avid expression, the air between us alive, tying us together and shocking us in little pulsing jolts. I reach down between us, my hands making quick work of the button on his jeans. And when I begin to imagine him fucking me here—his hands holding my ass, my weight braced on his hips—he lowers his mouth to my ear.
‘In the shower, you were on your knees, your hair in my hand as I fed you my dick so deeply you choked, but you didn’t move your hand from between your slick legs.’
I suck in a deep breath as the backs of his fingers graze my nipple in the barest of a caress. He licks a wet trail down my neck, bending to take my nipple into his mouth.
‘Oh, God.’ I cry out, my fingers grappling with his shoulders as I arch my back.
‘Tell me you won’t see him.’
I laugh, thinking to myself, you’ll have to do better than that. But my laughter is short lived as his long fingers dig into the flesh of my ass as he lifts me, carrying me into the kitchen. His lips still on my breast, his teeth are almost a threat.
‘It’s not very nice being ignored,’ he growls, dropping me unceremoniously to my feet. With a hand on my hip, he spins me to face the countertop. The same hand now sits between my shoulder blades, and my cheek rests on the backs of my hands.
His large hand holds me down, though it’s not the pressure of his pressing fingers but my mind that keeps me there. The questions. The scenarios my mind spins out. What will he do? Why in the kitchen? And how much longer before he pulls my panties off?