Second Chances Boxed Set: 7 Sweet & Sexy Romances in 1 Book

by Tracey Alvarez

  Chapter Ten

  West’s head dropped back as his fist moved along himself in slow, achingly slow strokes.

  “I want you to be my first,” Piper said, meeting his gaze with fierce hazel eyes.

  I want to be your only. The words he wanted to say but couldn’t. She’d sprawled on his bed, her breasts bare, the nipples reddened like tiny strawberries from his suckling. Losing all imagined sophistication, he helped her out of her shorts and removed his jeans, nearly tripping over his own feet in the hurry to bury himself in her warm, tight depths. God, he wanted her and even the threat of Ben coming home to their flat early couldn’t deter him from finally, finally making her his.

  Thrusting into her, her slick wetness wrapped around him like a velvet-lined fist. She dug her nails into his ass and dragged him closer, even as he tried to pull away, terrified that he’d hurt her. Her teeth nipped his earlobe, her hissed-out breath brushing his cheek.

  “Don’t you dare stop now,” she said.

  His mouth found hers in the dark, claiming her, but cursing him to remember the taste of her forever.

  He groaned through clenched teeth, his thumb spreading the moisture from the tip lengthwise, the pressure inside him building to volcanic levels as his palm moved faster and faster.

  “West?” A soft knock on the bathroom door behind him. “Are you okay?”

  Shit! His hand braced against the wall slipped and he stumbled toward the toilet bowl, gasping for breath.

  “Are you sick?” Concern pitched Piper’s voice higher than normal. “I heard you groaning.”

  Sick. That was it!

  “Uh, yeah.” He exhaled in a whoosh, his heart a kettle drum pounding in time with the throb of his cock. “Think I ate too many paua fritters—feel like I’m gonna hurl.”

  “Oh.”

  He caught her doubt in that one short syllable. How long had he been groaning? And what other sounds had she heard?

  “You need anything?”

  Just you baby, just you. Christ. He struggled to jam himself back into his boxers.

  “No, I’m good.” West splashed a handful of cold water on his face. Contemplated dumping a cup of it down his shorts to see if it would cool his aching balls off.

  “Well. Okay. There’s a roll of Quick-Eze in my bath bag if you need it.”

  Indigestion pills? Yeah, they wouldn’t help—how about a hand-job instead, babe? Like that would happen.

  “Thanks, I’ll be fine. Go back to bed.”

  He waited, hands clamped either side of the sink to anchor himself in place, listening to Piper’s soft footsteps and the final fzzzzt of the sleeping bag zipper sealing her away. Giving her a few more moments to settle, West cracked open the bathroom door and slunk into his bed.

  Piper clutched her pillow like a life preserver, like she was floundering on the surface of a turbulent ocean. She remained in that stunned position for almost an hour.

  Oh. My. God. West had been jerking off in the bathroom.

  At first she hadn’t been sure, had reacted out of genuine concern thinking he was sick. But after hearing the rawness of his voice—lightbulb moment! Did he honestly think the “I ate too many paua” excuse would cut it? What? Was she a complete innocent who didn’t know the difference between a guy’s hanging over the porcelain throne about to puke groan, and a guy’s this feels so good I’m about to come groan?

  Puh-lease.

  And the worst of it? She’d stood outside that bathroom door for a moment with jellified knees and a growing damp patch in her pajama bottoms, wishing she could kick the door down and have her wicked way with him. She silenced a groan of her own by biting down on the fleshy web between her thumb and index finger. Crazy, sexually-frustrated tart.

  Bastard knew she was attracted to him—okay, had gone beyond attraction and into the obsessively-craving-his-touch zone—so what was up with the sneaky bathroom masturbation? Her cotton pajama bottoms whispered together as she restlessly shifted her legs in the confines of the sleeping bag.

  Hello? The snide little bitch inside her head piped up. Are you for real? You dress in baggy tee shirts to disguise your teeny-tiny boobs, and combat boots to show what an ass-kicker you are. It’s only now you wonder why West jerks off in the other room, imagining some dainty little thing in do-me heels and a g-string?

  Hot tears stung the corner of her eyes.

  He was attracted to her but big-freaking-deal. She’d been attracted to guys who weren’t her normal “type,” had even slept with a couple, but she’d no intention of having a relationship with them. Just like West had no intention of having a relationship with her.

  It’s all about proximity and availability, kid. Don’t delude yourself thinking it’s anything more. And she wasn’t going to change to please him. Been there, tried that, failed spectacularly.

  But did she want a summer fling? To see if a quickie with West, now that she was a little older and wiser, would finally shut her yearning body up?

  Maybe.

  She could handle a fling. She had no ties, nothing to keep her in Oban once her duty was done. Nothing and no one.

  So why did her family’s faces float into her mind? Why did she see West in the sunshine with that half smile and his hair sticking up crazily on one side where he’d shoved his fingers through it? Why did she feel his arms around her still? And the burn in her throat as he stroked her hair and rested his hand briefly on the back of her neck?

  She scrubbed away a tear slipping down her cheek and sucked a surreptitious breath in through her mouth—one sniff and West would guess what her snotty nose meant. Burrowing her face into the folds of the sleeping bag, Piper tried to tune out the soft breathing from the other bunk.

  The only thing more humiliating than her tears would be to acknowledge that once again West had found a way under her protective armor.

  Ten hours of frustration later, West followed Piper off the wharf to a corner table in Erin’s café. Ben had beaten them and was about to tuck into a late breakfast of bacon and eggs.

  West sat next to him. “How can you put so much cholesterol into your body day after day and still live?”

  Piper slumped in the chair opposite.

  “Erin’ll disembowel you if she hears you talk about her food like that.” Ben swallowed a forkful of eggs. “And what’s your problem, anyway?”

  “Nothing.” He picked up a menu and snapped it open. “I just need a caffeine hit and not that instant swill, either.”

  Real coffee made from honest-to-God caffeine-rich beans that would psych him up—while the cause of him staying awake half the night sat across from him, examining her fingernails.

  “You just missed your dad,” Ben said. “Caught the early ferry with my mum. Off to Invercargill Hospital, aren’t they?”

  “Yep. Dad didn’t want anyone going with him but once Glenna puts her mind to something…” West shrugged.

  “She’s worried about him, too.” Piper straightened and picked up a menu. “And if he needs to go for more tests, Glenna will make sure he doesn’t weasel out of them.”

  West scrubbed the heel of his palm along his thigh, remembering his father trying to be jovial as he told him about his blood test results—something was up with his kidneys and Doc Whelan was sending him to a renal specialist in Invercargill. “He’s a tough old coot. He’ll be fine.”

  “He will.” Piper’s cool stare melted. “There’s nobody in Oban tougher than your dad.”

  The shard of ice, lodged in his gut from when Bill first confessed he’d been unwell for months, softened at her reaction.

  Erin appeared at West’s side, sliding a cup and saucer on the table in front of him. “Saw you coming and had Annie make your regular.”

  Piper lifted the menu in front of her face and their moment shattered.

  West raised the cup and sniffed the intoxicating scent of his flat white. “This smells gooood. Marry me, Erin, and you can bring me coffee in bed every morning.”

  Erin la
ughed, flicking her plait over her shoulder. “I’m tempted to say yes just to see you squirm when I started shoving bridal magazines under your nose.”

  He glanced across to where Piper studied every option on the menu like she was cramming for an exam. A twitch in the corner of her lips was the only indication she listened to him pretend-flirt.

  Erin moved to the end of the table and removed the order pad from her apron pocket. “Want anything?”

  Piper lowered the menu and pinned Erin with her flat gaze. Fire kindled low in his belly. God, she was even hotter when she switched to Bad Cop mode.

  “How about the same friendly service you offer your other paying customers instead of looking at me like week-old dog shit scraped off your size six ballet flats?”

  The pen in Erin’s hand clicked half a dozen times before she spoke, this time with a small shot of warmth in her tone. “I can’t believe you still remember what shoe size I am.”

  “We stopped sharing shoes at twelve. You kept your little Chinese-lady bound feet while mine grew with the rest of me.”

  “Into a tall, skinny bitch.”

  Piper’s mouth curved. “While you remained Hobbit sized.”

  “We’ve been friends since kindergarten.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You never called, never wrote.” Erin’s lip trembled once as she shoved her order pad back into her apron. “And you never said goodbye.”

  Join the club, honeybunch. West sipped his coffee and watched the women’s byplay.

  “I’m sorry, Erin,” Piper said.

  Ben dropped his head back toward the ceiling and clapped a hand to his forehead. “Look, can we bypass the Thelma & Louise reunion and fast-forward to the bit where you both realize you’ll never be as hot as Geena Davis so you shut up and be friends again?”

  Suddenly Ben ducked half under the table to clutch his shin.

  “Hey! That hurt, Stubby,” he grumbled, but West caught the hint of affection in the use of his sister’s old nickname—and the sly trick he’d initiated by uniting the women against him instead of each other. “Lucky you missed my bad ankle.”

  “Did I?” Piper said. “Damn. I was aiming for it.”

  Erin tweaked Ben’s ear. “That’s for the Geena Davis comment.” She glanced at Piper. “Americano with hot milk on the side?”

  “Lovely.”

  After Erin scooted back behind the counter, Ben said, “So, how’d it go?”

  West spotted Piper’s quick glance in his direction, her lips forming a terse line.

  “Good,” she stretched the word out. “They all said they had a great time.”

  Ben rested his elbow on the table and propped up his chin. Piper shifted on her chair, placing the menu folder down and then picking it up again. The interrogator became the interrogated.

  “Really?” Ben said. “Was the great time had before or after you were seasick and Mrs. Carter felt obliged to look after you? Or before or after you incinerated everyone’s dinner?”

  “They told you about that, huh?”

  “They did.” Ben’s fingers drummed a short tattoo on his jaw. “Lucky for us they decided the seafood on the beach was a highlight, otherwise you would’ve totally screwed up the whole thing.”

  Piper leaned forward, scowling. “Like you expected me to.”

  Ben raised a palm, but said nothing.

  Piper recoiled, her boots clomping to the floor as she sat bolt upright in her chair.

  Keep out of it, West told himself. But no. It turned out where Piper was concerned he couldn’t stop himself from riding in on his white charger. “You’ve got six satisfied customers now, Ben—so satisfied they’re planning to tell a friend who’s a travel writer to make a booking. Plus, they’ve agreed for us to use their photos for free publicity on your website— another of Piper’s ideas.”

  “You just can’t give me the benefit of the doubt, can you?” Piper flushed a pretty rose, her gaze never deviating from Ben’s face. The gleam in her eye told him she wasn’t feeling pretty. More like homicidal. “Yeah, I screwed up. But I have the balls to own it when I make a mistake.”

  Ouch, buddy. Direct hit.

  Ben leaned back in his chair, the hard line of his jaw signaling his intention to freeze Piper from the conversation. If the café had been quieter they would’ve heard Ben’s back teeth grind together. “It’s easy to ask for forgiveness once the damage has been done, isn’t it?”

  The flush drained away from Piper’s face, leaving the smattering of freckles on her cheekbones stark against her blanched skin. Her knuckles were whitened bumps as she gripped the edge of the table and stood. “Don’t mistake my admission as asking for forgiveness.”

  She stalked to the counter calling out, “Erin? I’ll have the coffee to go, thanks.”

  West waited exactly five seconds after the café door slammed. “You’re too hard on her.”

  “If by ‘hard’ you mean I tell it like it is when she screws up a simple re-heatable dinner and is too proud to admit she gets seasick, then I’ll wear it.” Ben tore off a triangle of toast, swiped it in congealing egg yolk, and stuffed it into his mouth. “Ragging her about this will make her work twice as hard next time to get everything right.”

  “You were still a prick and I know you’d never come down on Shaye like that.”

  Ben swallowed his mouthful and chased it down with coffee. “Piper’s solid, she can take some heat. And since when did you start siding with my sister? Since you started boning her?”

  West’s right hand curled into a fist, itching to plow into Ben’s smirk. The last time the two of them scuffled he nearly broke Ben’s nose with a solid right hook. They’d been fourteen and fighting over the affections of an older woman—Isabelle Collins, all of fifteen-and-a-half. West saw her first, Ben disagreed, and so they opted to settle the flirting rights with fists. Ben was bigger but West faster, and the matter done and dusted with Ben’s bloody nose.

  Having the gift of the gab saved West from a few fistfights, but he’d still beat the shit out of someone if he had to. And right now, for the first time in fifteen years, his blood pressure crept into the danger zone.

  “Not that it’s any of your business but I’m not sleeping with Piper.”

  “Not yet, ay?” Ben grabbed the other half of the toast and took a bite. Chewed thoughtfully, while meeting West’s hot gaze with apathy. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

  “Suddenly you’re the protective big brother? When you’ve just finished ripping her a new one. That’s rich.”

  Ben stabbed a finger at him. “Stay away from her. I’m warning you.”

  “How touching. You’re worried I’ll break your sister’s heart.”

  “You’ve got it wrong. I’m not worried about you breaking Piper’s heart, or even you shagging her senseless—if easy sex was the only thing you wanted.” Ben pushed his plate out of the way and rested on his folded arms. “But I know you. I’ve known you for a hell of a lot longer than she has and I can tell she’s getting to you again. Mate, she’ll cut your heart out and stomp all over it with her combat boots when she leaves—just like she did last time.”

  West’s scalp itched. “You knew? About…last time?”

  The slight lift of Ben’s eyebrow screamed duh at him. He didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or relieved. “Didn’t think it was that obvious.”

  “When the life of the party turns into a monk for a year after a certain female leaves town, his mates notice.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m not that hormonally challenged kid now. I can handle Piper.”

  “Sure you can. But don’t kid yourself that after you’ve handled her, she’ll stay.” Ben studied him over the rim of his cup.

  West lifted his gaze to the picture windows and the view of the wharf beyond. Piper leaned on the railing looking out into the bay, her hands cradling her takeout coffee, the toe of one boot kicking the heel of the other.

  “I know it.” West downed the dregs of his coffee, leaving
his tongue coated in bitterness.

  The estrogen in the women’s changing room before the annual Waitangi Day touch rugby game was so rich Piper thought she’d either suffocate or start applying copious amounts of mascara—like one of her future teammates was doing.

  “How did you talk me into this again?” she hissed in Shaye’s ear as they entered the small prefab structure.

  “A large dose of sisterly guilt.” Shaye peeled Piper’s claw-like hand off her elbow. “Come on, it’ll be fun and the women’s team needs you.”

  The team might need her for her gender and for numbers, but the body language of some of the women made it clear they didn’t want her there.

  Kezia, dressed like the other six women in black bike shorts and a hot pink, slim fitting tee shirt with Bree’s Kiwi Curios screen printed on the front, looked up from lacing her rugby boots. “Piper, hey!”

  “Hi, Kez.”

  “Zoe and I have hardly seen you since you got back from your romance tour.” Kezia lifted her other foot onto the battered wooden bench and tugged on the laces.

  Piper dropped her kitbag on the bench next to her. “Been keeping a low profile for the last week. We had a couple of dive tours and a fishing charter, too.”

  “And run off her feet while Bill’s only working part time,” Shaye said.

  “West’s a slave driver, hmm?” Erin offered a sharp smile from her position by the shoulder-high windows overlooking Oban’s sports field.

  “That man can order me around his bedroom any time,” said a brunette with a set of ripped biceps, her nose so close to the window that a patch of fog had formed. “Wow. There’s some seriously fine man-flesh parading around out there in the mud.”

  Shaye chuckled. “Piper, that’s Tarryn O’Dell—she’s the new Department of Conservation worker.”

  “Heard about you, but nice to meetcha anyway,” Tarryn said by way of greeting, softening the statement with a grin.

  Piper smiled back warily. “Likewise.”

  Shaye walked past her, further into the room. “And you know Lani—” at the other end of the bench Lani raised a hand and continued to bop silently to the tinny music pumping from her earbuds—“and you’d remember Bree and Holly.” Neither of whom bothered to look away from the sink mirrors since she’d stepped inside.