Six Naughty Nights: Love in Reverse, Book 2

by Serenity Woods

  “Sorry,” Esther said. “Charlie doesn’t do quiet.”

  “What’s the time?”

  “Five thirty. That’s a lie in, for him.”

  “Jeez.” Toby sighed. “What are you doing down there?”

  “Trying not to wake you.”

  “And failing.” He held out a hand. “Come on, get up here, both of you.”

  “We’re perfectly fine…” Her voice trailed off as Charlie scampered to his feet and tried to climb onto the bed. Toby switched on the bedside light and helped him up. She mumbled something he couldn’t hear and passed them the magazine.

  Toby leaned back on the pillows, and Charlie sat upright next to him, turning the pages and giving him a running commentary. Esther got to her feet and wandered around the room, examining his belongings. Toby let her, wondering what she was looking for, content to watch her move around and gain the occasional glimpse of her pink panties beneath the T-shirt.

  “Red car,” Charlie said, pointing to the vehicle in the picture.

  “Yes, that’s right. It’s a Ferrari.”

  “It’s red.”

  “Yes, it’s a red Ferrari.”

  “’Rari,” said Charlie. “’Raris are good cars?”

  “Ferraris are fantastic cars. They’ll get you a great girlfriend.”

  Charlie blew a raspberry. “Girls suck.”

  “Only the good ones.”

  Esther gave him a glance, half-amused, half-exasperated. He grinned back. “What are you looking for?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing. Just seeing what you’ve got here.”

  “Not much. I’ve only been here six weeks and I’m going back Saturday.” He thought it best to tell her, get it out of the way. “One of my mates is getting married. I’m best man.”

  “Crikey. He wants the church in one piece, does he?” She obviously remembered how clumsy he was. Two left feet and fingers too large to press the buttons on most phones didn’t make for elegant manoeuvring.

  “Ha ha.” He pointed to the rugby player in the magazine. “Who’s this?”

  “Don’t know,” Charlie said.

  “Don’t know? Esther, what have you been teaching the boy? Charlie, this is Dan Carter, king of the All Blacks.”

  “Dan?”

  “Yes. He’s a superhero.”

  “Like Superman?”

  “Just like Superman.”

  “Does he fly?”

  “He’s a fly-half, that’s almost as good.”

  “Jeez.” Esther didn’t look around. “I can see what effect you’re going to have on his education.”

  “Listen, knowing who Dan Carter is will be more of a life skill for him than knowing who Shakespeare is, believe me.”

  “You’re probably right.” She sighed.

  He rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head. “Do you still work at the university?”

  “Yes. At least I did. I presume it’s still standing. I lecture there three days a week. Charlie goes to daycare.” She looked through the half a dozen books resting on the shelf and picked one up. When she turned, the pleasure on her face made him smile. “To Kill a Mockingbird?”

  “So it is.”

  “I suggested you read that.”

  “I know. Hence the book.”

  She looked puzzled. “You’re reading it because of me?”

  “Yes. I’ve already read it twice. I thought I’d bring it with me, for something to do.”

  Her lips twitched. “Along with the Playboys under the bed.”

  “Ah…”

  She laughed. “It’s all right. I put them in your suitcase, by the way. I’d be the same if I didn’t have Mr. Nosey around asking questions.”

  That didn’t surprise him. She’d found a magazine in his suitcase in Fiji and had read one of the sexy stories to him in bed, and then they’d discussed which model they’d have join them for a threesome. It had led to a particularly raunchy lovemaking session, if his memory served him correctly.

  He shifted away from Charlie, who seemed content to continue his quiet commentary as he flicked through the magazine. The last thing he wanted was his son remarking on any changes happening to his body under the covers.

  Esther rubbed her thumb over the cover of the book, studying the picture. What was she thinking?

  “Are you considering that maybe Charlie already knows more about classical literature than I do?” he asked her.

  “He could probably give me more quotes from Macbeth than you.”

  He smiled. “I am unsurprisingly dense about Chaucer’s work.” It was a joke, and her wry glance told him she’d guessed that.

  “You’re not dense. You’re uneducated. There’s a difference. It’s not your fault you went to a crap school.”

  “I guess.”

  She frowned at him. “You were like this three years ago—I thought you might have moved on since then. Why do you insist you’re stupid?”

  He shrugged, unoffended. “It’s difficult to think otherwise when I’m surrounded by clever people.”

  “Like…”

  “My brothers. We went to the same high school, but they somehow managed to rise above the mediocre teaching we were offered. One’s a doctor and one’s a lawyer. I guess I was at the back of the queue when the smart genes were handed out.”

  She turned to face him and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “That’s rubbish. You’re intelligent. You just don’t like to show it. I bet you have no trouble using maths when you’re at work.”

  It was true—he found it easy to calculate measurements and quantities that some of the other builders struggled with. That didn’t convince him he was clever, though.

  He turned a page for Charlie and held the magazine up for him to investigate the advert for aftershave as he continued, “Look, I can talk about wall frames, exterior claddings and timber weatherboards until the cows come home. But it sounds surprisingly unimpressive when one of your best mates is a history teacher and the other is manager of a large computer firm. I’m not complaining. I like my job. And anyway, I have plans. I’m going to university next year.”

  Her eyes widened. “To study what?”

  “Architecture. Soon I’ll have a degree along with the rest of them.”

  He’d thought she’d be impressed by that. Instead, however, she frowned. “Is that really what you want to do?”

  He blinked, confused. When he’d told his family and friends, everyone had praised him for his ambition, pleased he’d finally committed himself to a real and impressive career. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea?” he asked, hurt she hadn’t reacted the same way.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think.” She turned away and continued brushing her fingers along the bits and pieces he’d left on the shelf. “What’s this?”

  He glanced over. She’d picked up a small box from the corner of his suitcase labelled Naughty Nights in fancy red script. The picture on the front was a stylised version of a couple engaged in an interesting sexual act. Alarm shot through him and he glanced at Charlie, who luckily was fascinated by an article about different kinds of wristwatches. “Oh Christ, it’s not what you think.” What with this and the magazines she’d found, he wasn’t coming across well.

  Chapter Six

  “It’s not a sex game?” Esther was teasing him, but Toby looked horrified that she’d found the box.

  He winced. “Okay… So it is what you think. It’s not mine, is what I meant.”

  “One of your girls left it here?” She made her voice innocent, trying not to laugh at his pained expression as she took off the lid and pulled out a handful of the cards.

  “One of my… Jeez, Esther, I haven’t had any girls up here. Hence the Playboys.”

  That she found hard to believe. “You haven’t had sex for six weeks?”

  “I haven’t had sex for six months, but that’s another story. No, Faith gave it to me. She’s Rusty’s wife.”

  He’d told her about Rusty and Dan—his b
est mates—in Fiji. “Your best mate’s wife gave you a sex game?”

  “No. I mean yes. Look, she writes for a women’s magazine. She writes this column about sex, about ways to spice up your love life. It’s how she and Rusty became an item—he offered to help her investigate the sins and they ended up staying together.”

  Esther stared at him, surprised. “The Seven Sexy Sins?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I read that column.” It had been fun, based on the seven deadly sins, with each one relating to a “sexy sin” like stripping or oral sex to encourage couples whose love lives had grown staid. Faith Hillman was a well-known columnist and adviser on women’s matters, and the magazine’s large following had watched with avid interest as she gradually fell in love with the secret partner with whom she’d explored the sins. “Oh, I read she married him in November, wasn’t it? That was your Rusty?”

  “Yeah. Her brother wasn’t best pleased, but he came around when he saw how right they are for each other.”

  It was a lovely romantic story. Esther had read about the sins each week, envious she didn’t have someone to try them out on. She sighed and turned her attention to the cards in her hand. “So… What’s with the Naughty Nights?”

  “Faith’s researching for another article on sex games. They’ve been teasing me because I haven’t had a date in ages, so she gave me the game and told me to find someone to try it out on—for research purposes.”

  “But you haven’t found anyone?”

  “Not yet.” He met her gaze. Something in his expression gave her the feeling he was thinking about Fiji, and she had a vivid image of him lying back, arms behind his head like he was now as she straddled him and welcomed him inside her.

  Charlie plopped the magazine onto his chest, making him jump, and she hid a smile as he turned his attention to the “Top 10 Action Movies” list Charlie had found and began to discuss them.

  She looked back at the cards. They were small and glossy and came in two sections—one with red lettering and the Venus symbol, one with black and the Mars icon. One lot for men, one for women, presumably. Each card bore a scenario, either a role-play suggestion or something to try in the bedroom.

  She read the top one. “Goodness.” Her heart raced. She’d never taken part in role-play. The most exciting time she’d ever had in bed was with Toby, when he’d tied her to the bedpost. That had been a night to remember. The thought of playing out a scenario like the one on the card made her dizzy with lust.

  Toby glanced up. “What?”

  She swallowed. “Have you read these?”

  “Not really. Seemed like pointless torture. Why? What does it say?” His big brown eyes met hers, his expression curious.

  Warmth crept into her cheeks, and her lips curved. She glanced at Charlie, but he was busy labelling the various types of dinosaur in the number five action movie, and besides, there weren’t any words in the text as such that he shouldn’t hear.

  She cleared her throat. “This is a guy’s one. ‘As Roman emperor, you have the pick of all of the slaves in the Empire. Go to the market, choose yourself a girl and take her back to your villa. She is yours for the night, and must do anything you tell her.’” She looked up. “It gives some suggestions.”

  Toby blinked. “Huh.”

  She bit her lip. No way could she read those out. For example, tell her to pleasure you using only her mouth. Or describe how you want her to touch herself while you watch. Jeez.

  She lifted her gaze to his again. The first time they’d gone down on each other had been on a quiet beach of white sand, tucked out of sight behind a cluster of palm trees. Did he remember? Yes, was the answer, judging by his raised eyebrow and the curve of his lips.

  She put the card back and pulled out another one—this one red. “Ooh.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a girl’s one. ‘You’re a very expensive, high-class hooker, looking for customers in a bar. You see a businessman ordering a drink. Go up to him and ask him if he would like a companion for the evening. Get him to buy you a drink, and then let him take you back to his place. Ask what he wants, and tell him what it will cost. And if he wants anything extra, well, that’s up to you.’” She looked up at him.

  “Nice.” Toby’s eyes glittered in the light.

  “What’s a hooker?” Charlie asked.

  Shit. She’d forgotten Charlie had ears. She opened her mouth to tell him not to be so nosey.

  “A hooker’s a rugby position,” Toby interjected without hesitating.

  “Like Dan Carter?” Charlie asked brightly.

  “Well, I wouldn’t call him that to his face.”

  Esther gave a wry smile and put the cards back into the box reluctantly as Toby proceeded to tell their son about Keven Mealamu and what role the hooker played on the rugby field. How were you supposed to have a love life when you had a two-year-old? Even if she had met someone she’d been attracted to, with nobody to babysit there was no way she could ever go on a date.

  Weariness overtaking her, she came back to the bed and stretched out next to Charlie. She ran her fingers through his curls, and he pushed her away and moved to the end of the bed, climbing down. “I’m going to sit on the sofa,” he announced, clear as anything, and ran through into the living room with his magazine.

  She sighed and lay back, unable to summon the energy to go after him. Looking up at the ceiling, she thought about the Naughty Nights game and wondered who would get to play it with Toby. Would he tell the lucky girl he had a son? Would Charlie feature in his life at all from now on?

  Toby hadn’t said anything for a while, so she turned her head to look at him, only to find him watching her, head propped on his hand. Charlie had pushed the duvet to Toby’s waist, and she could just see the line of dark brown hair heading down from his stomach, disappearing into his boxers. She swallowed and raised her gaze to his in time to see he’d been looking at her legs, bare and exposed right up to the hem of the T-shirt. She smiled, but he didn’t return it. His gaze lingered on her mouth before coming back to hers.

  “Why didn’t you try to find me?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, just puzzled. “When you found out you were pregnant, I mean?”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. She swallowed. “I did. But the Northland is a pretty big place.”

  It was a lie. First, she hadn’t tried to find him because she hadn’t thought he’d be interested. And besides which, he’d already turned her down once. If she’d contacted him to inform him he was going to be a father and he’d reacted by telling her to get lost, how would that have felt? For herself? For Charlie?

  Second, she hadn’t told him because she’d wanted to punish him for walking away from her. In the beginning, anyway. She didn’t like what that said about her, but was honest enough to admit it. After her father died and Charlie was born, she’d thought often about trying to track Toby down. Half of her wanted to keep the boy to herself, half of her wanted to share the experience of having a child with someone, plus Charlie deserved to know his father. But something had always made her hold back from contacting Toby. He’d hurt her terribly, and she hadn’t been able to move on from that.

  “But I left you messages,” he said. “At the university.”

  Crap. She’d forgotten that. The receptionist had put them in her pigeonhole every day for weeks, but she’d torn them into pieces and thrown them away.

  She couldn’t admit to him that she’d refused to contact him on purpose. Not now. “Messages?” she said. “I didn’t get any messages.”

  Relief washed over his features. “I assumed you didn’t want to contact me. I didn’t realise you never got them.”

  She looked at her hands, her gut twisting with guilt. She was terrible at lying, and she wondered if he’d be able to read the truth on her face. If he did, how would he react? He had every right to be angry with her. She’d denied him the first two years of Charlie’s life. It wasn’t as if he’d made the decision to be an absent f
ather. Maybe he’d have liked to change nappies and do the two a.m. shift. Hard as it had been, the thought of missing out on that quiet time with her baby snuffling at her breast, of not seeing his first smile, first mouthful of food, first step, made her catch her breath. Toby hadn’t had any of that.

  He didn’t say anything, and she couldn’t read what he was thinking. How did he feel about having a son? Was he pleased or annoyed she’d upset his plans for the future? What would he do after he went back to the Bay of Islands? Would he stay in contact with her or turn his back on her again?

  By law, she could demand he pay toward Charlie’s upkeep, but that seemed unfair when she’d denied him access these past years. Shame and defensiveness twisted inside her at the same time. Part of her hated him for finding her, for seeing her in that supermarket, for saving her. She’d been happy in her own little world, just Charlie and her.

  Hadn’t she?

  Chapter Seven

  “Tell me about your dad,” he said.

  She looked up at the ceiling. “Not much to say.”

  “What did he die from?”

  Her throat tightened, and she cleared it. “Officially, a heart attack. Unofficially, I think he died of a broken heart.”

  “He missed your mum?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When did she die again?”

  “Five years ago. Cancer. He struggled on for a while, but it felt like he faded away, you know?” Sadness overwhelmed her, and she fell silent.

  Toby didn’t reply. He remained quiet for a moment while she fought with herself to keep her emotions in check.

  Then, to her surprise, he inched closer to her.

  She looked at him in alarm. “What are you doing?”

  “Moving closer.”

  “I got that much. I meant why are you doing it?”

  In answer, he lifted a hand to touch her face and brushed her cheek with his thumb. She stiffened automatically, little shivers shooting down her spine at the contact. Her instincts told her to move away, but his touch was so gentle, she couldn’t help but linger.

  She’d put aside her physical desires since having Charlie, had given every ounce of her affection and energy to him. She’d forgotten what it was like to be Esther, to have someone talk to her, touch her as something other than a mother.