Muscling In

by Lily Harlem

  “Sian, Sian…”

  Drake penetrated my dirty thoughts.

  “Mmm…?” I asked, looking up.

  “You nearly done?” He nodded at the picture.

  I was going over and over the same few strands of hair, way more than was necessary. “Er, yes, I reckon.” I set my pencil down and smiled at Nick. “Come on, then, this way.”

  ****

  The portrait tattoo took me the rest of the day. The shading was complex and I was determined to get the same soft intelligence shining from the eyes. I figured I’d succeeded when Nick was shown it and his voice trembled as he thanked me. I noticed a small well of moisture on his lower lids, which he quickly wiped away.

  By the time I’d tidied my station and filed Nick’s details I was ready for home. I was hungry so nibbled on a muesli bar as I caught The Tube back to Angel station.

  A light rain started to fall as I navigated the five-minute walk to Bromley Street and I put my head down and hurried. The air was hot and muggy. Coben had said he’d be working late tonight. Something had come up with Harold Stern’s new job and he was keen to keep everything running as smoothly as possible. But that was okay. I’d maybe have a soak in the bath before starting dinner.

  As I rounded the corner I noticed a sleek black motorbike parked outside our home.

  My heart quickened and I tightened my hold on the strap of my bag that was hoisted over my shoulder.

  Could it be?

  Already?

  Yes. Standing on our step, knocking at the door was a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in leather. He still wore his helmet.

  Ed. He was back.

  I broke into a jog, heat rising within me and joy spreading through my limbs, adding to my pace.

  “Ed,” I called. I was worried if there were no answer he’d leave. “Ed.”

  He turned, saw me, then raised his hand.

  I kept on hurrying. Coben would be so happy, more than happy, elated, as was I.

  Ed walked down the three steps and stood, feet hip-width apart, as I rushed up to him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him tight with my face pressed against the cool, damp leather at his shoulder.

  His arms stayed loose as if he were surprised by my grip on him.

  I squeezed closer.

  “Hey, hey,” he said, wrapping me up in his thick arms, the jacket creaking slightly as he moved. “You okay?”

  “Yes, fine.” I inhaled his scent, my chest pushing against his as I breathed deep.

  “Good.” His voice was gruff.

  I pulled back a little and looked up at him. I couldn’t see his face because his visor was down and all that greeted me was my own reflection. “Are you coming in?”

  Of course he is, why would he be here otherwise?

  “If I’m invited.” He pushed up the visor. There was some bruising under his left eye and both irises appeared a little bloodshot. But other than that his face was fine, more than fine. It was perfect because he was here.

  “You know you are.” I smiled and released him. “Come on, it’s starting to rain.” I rummaged in my bag for my keys, found them, and quickly went up the steps. I opened the front door and stepped in.

  Ed followed close behind.

  “How’s Coben?” Ed asked, watching as I toed off my shoes. The tiles were cool on the soles of my feet, a sensation I relished at the end of a long day.

  “He’s fine. Working late.”

  “Is he really?”

  “What?” I set down my bag and turned to him. “Working late?”

  “No, is he really fine? How has he, you know…been while I was away?”

  Ahh, I could see what he was getting at. Ed’s time with Helen had been painful. They’d split because she couldn’t handle being the one left behind and he’d worried about the emotional damage he’d caused her by not being there.

  “He’s been anxious, obviously. Wondering if you’re okay. He knows more about it than me. What you’ve been up against.”

  Ed nodded. “Yeah.”

  “But we’ve had each other to hold at night.” I smiled. “He’s been okay, really. He cares about you, a lot, but he also loves me and I get him. I understand what he needs, when he needs to talk, when he doesn’t.” I paused. “Being a couple going through worry and missing someone must be a lot easier than being alone.”

  “Yeah, I discovered that absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder. It just crystallizes it into quietly outraged loneliness and combined with fear that can become a living hell for a person.”

  “Helen?”

  He nodded and removed his helmet. As he did so, I could see the bruise beneath his left eye wasn’t his only bruise. In fact he had several on that side of his face and more down his neck.

  “What happened?” As I’d spoken I knew he wouldn’t answer.

  I stepped up to him and moved his collar. The bruising went down his neck, angry and red. It looked like someone had tried to strangle him. “Ed…?”

  “It’s okay.” He shrugged.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, don’t fuss.” He moved away and took his jacket off, hung it on the back of the chair he’d placed his helmet on. “Worse injuries were taken by some of my team.”

  “I’m not fussing, I’m just…”

  “What?” He studied me.

  “Concerned.”

  “Don’t be.” He gave me one of his sexy but cocky half-smiles that went straight to my chest and made my nipples tingle.

  “Not something I can turn on and off,” I said, stepping up close to him. Again I looked at the marks on his neck. They were shocking the way they seemed to circle his throat. I stroked the tip of my index finger over one. Coben would be horrified.

  “Sian,” he said quietly.

  “Mmm…?” I stroked over his collarbone, feeling the shape of it beneath his t-shirt.

  He winced.

  “What?” I asked, surprised. I knew damn well Ed had a high tolerance for pain.

  “Nothing.” He shook his head. His eyes seemed to penetrate right through me.

  “That’s not nothing.”

  “Leave it.”

  I reached for the base of his t-shirt and gripped it. “If you’re in our lives, Ed, then you need to be honest about the things you can be honest about. The things that are not covered by the Official Secrets Act. And if being bruised and battered is how you are today, then you need to be up front about that, okay?” I’d spoken firmly, probably more than I’d intended but it was how I felt. He might be big and dark and in a brooding mood but I had a right to know if he was hurt.

  He swallowed, shifting the bruising on his neck. “Yeah, okay.”

  A small bubble of triumph burst within me. “Good.” I peeled his top up, revealing his flat abdomen with its trail of dark hair, his sternum and pecs.

  He raised his arms and allowed me to remove the garment completely.

  I let it fall to the floor. Shock washed through me. His gorgeous body was peppered with bruises, some so dark they were almost black and others red in the middle and faded on the edges.

  “You should see the other guy,” he said, rubbing his hand over his right collarbone that did have a particularly nasty swelling on it.

  “Bloody hell,” I said.

  “It’s fine, really.” He huffed. “Had more impressive knocks. This will be gone in a few days.”

  “What happened?” I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. You could tell me but then you’d have to kill me, right.” I laughed but it held no humor.

  He reached out and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I ended up in a situation where it was just me and one insurgent. I was out of bullets so it was fist fight or die. I picked the fist fight but he was no pushover. He got a few hits in.”

  “And a stranglehold by the looks of it.”

  He shrugged, then winced again and put his hand on his collarbone. “He had a go but didn’t get very far. We’ve all got to go at som
e point but I wasn’t about to let some raghead do me in with his bare hands in a shit hole of a house.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I removed the threat.”

  “Ahh, okay.” I could guess what that meant. He’d killed him. I looked at his hands. Hands that I knew could be gentle and loving but were also capable of killing…

  “And the mission was successful, so here I am,” he said.

  “Was it that woman, the hostage?”

  “Now you know I can’t talk about that.” He bit his bottom lip.

  “Yes, I’m sorry.”

  “Got any coffee around here?” he asked, glancing at the kitchen.

  “Yes, of course, come through, and you really should have a cold compress on that swelling on your clavicle. It’s nasty.”

  “Nah, the medics cleared me. It’s fine.”

  “Well it’s maybe not broken but it still needs attention.” I led the way into the kitchen and pulled out a chair for him to sit on. “Have you eaten?”

  “No.”

  “Will you stay and eat with us?”

  “I’d like that.” He spun the chair so it was facing into the room, then sat and placed his hands on his leather-clad thighs.

  I fussed around putting on the coffee, then searched for a bag of peas in the freezer. We only had sweetcorn but I figured that would work just as well. As I moved I could feel his quiet attention on me.

  It was what I’d craved, his attention, his desire, and something in the heated way he was looking at me made me wonder if I finally had that.

  After wrapping the sweetcorn in a tea towel I stood in front of him. His eyeline was level with my breasts. “Here, this is cold.” Very gently I rested the cool package against the swelling. He didn’t wince or shift but instead looked up at me.

  I caught my breath. I’d been right. His eyes were on fire with lust. The dark depths burned with longing. It was a longing I was sure reflected back at him because I wanted Ed so much.

  Chapter Twelve

  But right now Ed was injured. He was bruised and battered and not up for any sexy action.

  “Fucking hell you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said, slipping his hand into my hair, his palm scraping over my ear.

  “Ed…” I said breathily.

  “So fucking beautiful. Coben’s a lucky guy to have you.”

  “You can have me too.”

  He mashed his lips together. A small tendon jumped in his cheek, beneath the bruising there.

  My heart galloped and my stomach lurched in anticipation of what I was about to ask. “If you want me, that is.”

  He pulled my face to his and hovered his lips over mine. “Did you ever doubt that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  He kissed me in a hot, hard way that sent white-hot need racing through my veins. The sweetcorn fell to the floor as he wound his arm around my waist and tugged me closer. His hold on me was vice-tight, his strength evident in every muscle beneath my palms.

  I straddled his legs and he urged me to sit on his thighs. Our heads now level, the kiss deepened. Our tongues tangled, our breaths quickened. I wanted him. I wanted Ed in my pussy, fucking me. The way he’d fucked Coben with determination and desperation, I wanted that too. And damn the guy deserved it after what he’d been through.

  He fisted the hair on my crown and tugged.

  I was forced to tip my head back and as I stared at the ceiling he kissed and nibbled his way down my neck.

  “Oh God,” I moaned. Each section of skin he’d touched felt so alive. I rocked forward and felt the bulge of his erection forcing itself on his leathers.

  “Ah yeah,” he moaned. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” He slipped his hand up the inside of my top and cupped my right breast.

  “More.” I pushed my crotch over his, feeling the thickness of his shaft even through our clothing.

  “Much more.” He squeezed my breast over my bra, gathering up all the flesh and the cup.

  I squirmed in exquisite discomfort.

  He released the tight hold on my hair and I looked at him again.

  His lips were damp and slightly parted and there was a flush on his cheeks. “You’re the perfect woman,” he murmured. “Hot and sexy, yet gentle and kind. I want you. I want all of you.”

  “And I want you.” I cupped his cheeks and held his face.

  A sudden bolt of realization hit me. We couldn’t do this. Not without Coben. It wasn’t fair. I belonged to him. I was his wife. And although he was looking forward to the threesome fantasy and had been fucked by Ed it was something we all needed to do together.

  “Coben,” I managed.

  “Yeah, he’ll be home soon right.” He leaned in for another kiss.

  “Yes, but…”

  “Oh fuck, there’s a but?” He stilled.

  “Yes, you know there is.” I wriggled.

  He slipped his hand from beneath my top. He smoothed out the material by gently running his palm over my chest. “You want Coben here when we fuck, is that right?”

  I nodded. “Yes. It has to be that way. He’s not normally into sharing me. He can be jealous on occasion.”

  Ed chuckled. “Really?”

  “Why is that funny?”

  “I didn’t know that about him. No one else came near either of us, so it wasn’t ever a situation.” He paused. “I like it, though, that he’s territorial. It’s sexy.”

  “You reckon?”

  “Yeah.” He tilted his head within my hands.

  I let my palms drift down to his neck and rested them gently over the bruising.

  “I want you both,” Ed said. “And to be honest I can’t fucking believe my luck that you both want me, so I’m happy to play by your rules.”

  “Not rules just necessary, for him, for his emotional well-being.”

  “You’re a good wife, you know that.”

  I grinned and shifted on his lap, felt the hardness of his cock again. “Not that good.”

  “No one is without a little bit of bad.” He swept his lips over mine. “Now where is that coffee?”

  I became aware of the mellow scent of the roasted beans and stood. “Here.” I handed him the sweetcorn. “Keep this on.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You want something to eat with this coffee? A sandwich or something to keep you going?”

  “That’d be cool.” He shoved his hands down the front of his leathers and appeared to adjust himself. “If that’s what’s on offer.” He winked.

  “For now.” A delicious feeling of anticipation was zinging through me. I was turned on but happy to let the sensation linger, keep me buzzing until the time was right. Until Coben was here to join in the fun.

  I set down a mug of coffee on the table, then a glass of water and a couple of paracetamol. “Take these.”

  “What for?”

  “Make that more comfortable.” I pointed at his shoulder, then his face and finally the string of bruises on his ribs. “All of it.”

  He kind of huffed as though the idea was silly but took the medication anyway.

  “Ham sandwich?”

  “Perfect.”

  I set about spreading butter on two slices of bread. The sky had become dark and the kitchen gloomy. I was just reaching for the light switch when an almighty rumble of thunder rolled overhead.

  “We’re in for a good one,” Ed said, sipping his coffee.

  “Yes, I could feel it in the air.” I flicked on the overhead light and returned to adding ham to the bread.

  “What time will Cobe be in?”

  “Late. Might as well get a comfy seat to eat this.” I added the round of sandwiches to a plate and nodded at the living room. “Will be better for you than that hard chair.”

  “Whatever,” he said, smiling and standing.

  He followed me to the living room and I set the food next to the soft armchair. I fussed, plumping cushions for his poor, battered body to re
st on and added one high up for his head.

  “When did you last sleep?” I asked.

  “I dunno.” He thought about it. “Yesterday, on a plane.”

  “Well, sit and put your feet up.”

  “I could get used to this.”

  The room lit up as lightning streaked over North London.

  I jumped a little and he rested his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yes fine.” I glanced outside as another loud grumble of thunder made the windows rattle. I’d never been a fan of storms. “I’ll just be glad when Coben gets home.”

  He grinned. “Me too.” He sat, his naked upper torso looking dark and powerful against the rose-pink chair. “Thanks for this.” He picked up his snack and bit into it.

  “No problem. Here’s the remote for the TV. I’ll go and get something more substantial cooking.”

  “Sure, do what you need to do.”

  As I wandered back into the kitchen I heard the title music of the BBC news. I could hardly believe it. Ed was back. Not just back he was here, sitting in our home, eating and resting and waiting for Coben.

  And he did want me.

  I hugged my arms around myself and stared at the fat drips of the rainstorm landing wetly on the window.

  Ed desired me. He thought I was sexy and gentle and perfect. He wanted my body next to his, his cock sinking deep. The three of us really could become one.

  I nipped back into the hall and grabbed my purse. Ed had his head resting back on the cushion. He didn’t appear to notice me. Quickly I pulled out my iPhone and sent a text to Coben.

  Ed’s here! X

  Within seconds I had a reply.

  What! Keep him there.

  I tapped at the screen.

  He’s not going anywhere. He’s settled in the living room with food and painkillers. Don’t be late X

  Again the response was quick.

  I’m on my way now.

  I smiled. Coben would be feeling the same way I had when I’d seen the motorbike and Ed at the door. It was a heady mixture of relief and excitement, a complex tangle of love and lust.

  I poured a glass of wine, then flicked the oven on. I had chicken breasts in the fridge. Ed looked like a hearty meal, and not something out of rehydrated sachet or a can, would do him the world of good.