by Sandy Vaile
Then again, he didn’t know enough about her to come to that conclusion with any real certainty. And the bowl of pocket knives in the hallway wasn’t helping her case. What the hell did a woman—anyone—have that many weapons on hand for? He suddenly felt uneasy. Mya might be a lot more dangerous than he’d given her credit for.
Mya walked from the kitchen with a full jar of water in each hand and an ice pack nestled in the crook of her elbow. There were dark circles under her eyes and drips of blood on her T-shirt.
He pointed to a photo of her sparring. “I knew you must be trained. Who’s your boxing partner?”
“Just a friend.”
He raised an eyebrow. So, she had a friend. A male friend.
She dropped into the recliner chair opposite him and tucked the ice pack behind her head. Her eyes scrunched and the muscle along her jaw flexed. Yeah, she was in a lot more pain than she was letting on.
“So, why did you stick your neck out tonight?” she asked, eyes still closed.
“I’ve been watching the Masons since I moved in, and I know they’ve been messing with the neighbours. When I saw them sneak into your yard around eleven, I knew it couldn’t be good. You should press charges against Willy.”
“Not going to happen.”
Just the sort of behaviour he’d expect from someone with something to hide.
She winked one eye open. “Where’d the cricket bat come from?”
“The old bloke next door whacked Willy with it before I could stop him. Broke it, too.”
“Mr. Reiner?” She sat forward in surprise but quickly rocked back on the ice pack again. “He’s full of surprises.”
“You can go to sleep if you want,” Luca said. “I’ll wake you up in half an hour. I promise I’m not going to mess with your stuff.”
She scowled without moving her head. “Like hell.” There were flakes of dried blood on her arm and she scratched a few off.
He stifled a smirk at her bravado. There was blood all over her and she looked utterly worn out. It would be a miracle if she didn’t keel over any second now. In one long gulp, she drained the last of her glass of water and closed her eyes. Within a couple of minutes her breathing deepened and her head tilted to one side.
He liked the way her face relaxed as she slept. Even covered in grime, she was beautiful. Only a few years younger than him, but world weary. At rest she looked like any other twenty-seven-year-old. He checked the time and crept across the room to turn the light off. Then he settled back on the couch.
With his feet on the coffee table and a cushion pushed behind his head, he was ready to keep watch.
• • •
Mya had the sensation of falling and reached to grab onto something. Her hands hit the arms of the chair and she opened her eyes. The room was dark, but a shadow stooped over her. It had hold of her shoulder. She snatched a panicked breath, jabbed an elbow under the person’s chin, and dove out of the recliner. Before the shadow had time to react, she slid a bare foot along the floor and contacted its ankle.
“Ow, shit! It’s me. It’s Luca. Will you stop hitting me?”
“Luca?” In the dark room, on the cold floorboards, Mya sat and listened. Her eyes strained to see him.
“I was just waking you up. Remember, you might have a concussion? Any of this getting through? Geez.” He lifted his leg to rub his ankle and flopped back onto the couch.
The wall clock ticked, but she couldn’t see the time. She vaguely remembered Luca waking her quite a few times, making her open her eyes so he could see her pupils dilate or something, but she’d just wanted to sleep. Now, there was a glimmer of light outside, so it must be nearly dawn. Wow, Luca had kept his promise.
It was a struggle to get to her feet, so she held the edge of the bookshelf until her head stopped spinning. “You can leave now. You’ve watched me long enough. I’m going to take a shower.”
“You look like you’re going to keel over, actually. I think I should hang around to make sure you’re feeling okay. I’ll sit right here.”
His face was in shadow, but she was pretty sure there was a flash of teeth. The bastard was grinning, but she didn’t have the energy to argue with him. In fact, if she didn’t get to the bathroom soon she might just add puke to his bloody T-shirt. Without another word, she staggered down the hall.
Both hands grasped the sink and she studied herself in the mirror. Wow, not a good look. There was blood and dirt on her face, hair sticking up at the back like one of those freaky catwalk styles, and eyes with dark circles under them. She ran cold water and let go of the sink to splash her face. As she lowered her head, the room started to spin.
• • •
“Mya! Mya, can you hear me?”
Something cool and rough moved down the side of her face and she pressed against it. Her eyelids felt like they were glued together, and it took the remainder of her depleted energy to force them open.
She was on the bathroom floor with her head in Luca’s lap. “I’m okay,” she whispered.
“You’re not bloody okay. You fainted and added another lump to your skull. You should go to the hospital.”
“No.” Her voice was barely audible.
He slid his arms under her and grunted as he lifted her off the cold green tiles. Her head bobbed and lolled as he carried her down the hall, pushing open the spare bedroom door and groaning at the pile of boxes on the bed. He continued down the hall and found her bedroom, where he laid her gently on the bed and disappeared.
She knew she should care that she was submitting to him; that a man was even in her house, but she didn’t have the energy to form a coherent sentence, let alone protest. This wasn’t what she wanted, but at least she didn’t feel like she was in danger.
Kitchen cupboards banged and water ran through the pipes in the walls. Luca returned, carrying a glass of water and a plastic bowl. He lifted her shoulders and held the glass to her lips. She tried to snatch the drink away from him and succeeded only in spilling it down her chest.
He sighed and reached into the bowl beside the bed. A dripping blue flannel emerged and he squeezed it, then proceeded to wipe her face, neck, and arms. The water was warm and it felt good to finally get some of the grime off her skin. His rhythmic strokes were soothing.
“You know, I’m only helping,” he said, “not trying to get into your pants or rip you off, or whatever the hell you think I’m trying to do. You must hang out with a lot of arseholes if someone can’t even help without getting beat up.”
If she’d felt 100 percent, she’d be inclined to back chat, but right now she was happy just to listen to his deep, velvety voice.
The sun glared through the bedroom window now, highlighting the blond stubble on his face. She felt uncharacteristically safe as she closed her eyes.
Chapter 13
When Mya woke, she was lying on top of the quilt with the other half folded over her. Outside she could hear a distant lawn mower, car wheels bumping over the railway track, and corellas screeching in the trees. There was no sign that a man had been in her bedroom.
“Luca?”
The overwhelming emotion inside her this morning was confusion. Sure, she was angry at the Masons for being pussies and trying to take her down in a group, but mostly she was baffled by what had happened with Luca. No one had ever come to her defense before, and it felt both unwelcome and strangely pleasant. The memories of last night were fuzzy—had she imagined him in her house?
Tentatively, she stretched her arms above and legs below to check the damage. Everything felt stiff and sore, kind of like she’d had a vigorous workout at the gym, but there wasn’t any sharp pain. Nothing broken, then; that was a good sign. Then the dull throb in her head made itself known. Gently she slid out of bed and tiptoed to the front door. The two bolts were unlocked, which was proof that she hadn’t been in the house alone last night. She slid them across and peered into the lounge room.
“Luca?” No response.
In the kitchen a blue plastic
bowl rested upside down on the sink drain board. Her cheeks warmed at the memory of him wiping her neck and arms with a flannel. Luca was the first man to ever set foot in her house, so she blamed it on the concussion. She had been in a weakened state. She had also felt safe while he cared for her, which was a completely unfounded and unwanted sentiment.
He was a confident guy, well aware of how attractive he was, almost cocky. Yet he didn’t take advantage of the situation. Odd.
After checking every room in the house to make sure she was alone, Mya took a long, hot shower. The lump on the back of her head was tender as she washed her hair. With her back to the mirror, she saw grazes where her shoulder blades had hit the road. All in all, she hadn’t come out of the fight too badly, but what about Willy? The bastard deserved to have something broken, but hopefully his head injury wasn’t too serious, like brain damage. She shuddered. A brain injury definitely wasn’t the kind of thing she wanted on her conscience.
It was nine o’clock; not too early to visit someone, so she swallowed another couple of pain killers, moisturized her face, and blow-dried her hair. It was easier to leave her hair loose, because the lump hurt too much for a hair tie. At least now she felt more civilized.
Wearing navy tracksuit pants, a white singlet, and flip flops, she stepped onto the front porch and scanned the street.
The Masons’ house was quiet.
She wandered along the footpath to number twenty-five, steeling herself to say thank you. It wasn’t something she did often. But no matter how much she resented his interference, she had to admit that without Luca’s help last night, she would’ve been a bug splat on Willy Mason’s windscreen, figuratively speaking.
Luca’s front yard was a lot neater than hers, with a recently painted fence and neatly mowed lawn. White and yellow Mexican daisies lined the path and sparrows flitted in and out of a lemon tree in the corner. She made a note to give him some recipes, because it was sacrilegious the way the fruit was left on the ground to rot.
Curtains were drawn in the front windows, but it didn’t stop her using the metal door knocker, loudly.
Footsteps thudded down stairs, so he wasn’t asleep. When he opened the door, she totally forgot what she’d come to say. She was mesmerised by the way he rubbed a navy towel against wet hair, with a bicep bulging at each movement. A droplet slid to his bare chest and caught in the brown coils. Her gaze trailed down the line of hair to his navel, where too-loose grey tracksuit pants hung low on his hips. So low she could see the dent where his hips and stomach joined.
Luca cleared his throat and her gaze snapped back to his face.
He was grinning. “Looks like you’ve pulled up all right.” He waved a hand in her direction as evidence.
Her face refused to do the polite thing, like smile, so she continued to ogle. Heat travelled up from her toes, like warm molasses moving slowly through her veins. It raised her body temperature several degrees.
Damn, she wanted his body right now, but that would turn complicated into unmanageable. She needed a protective space around her, which didn’t include putting her faith in a man. That sort of thing never led to any good.
He looked so powerful and in control now, but last night she’d seen the worry in his eyes as he’d picked her up from the bathroom floor and gently washed grime from her skin.
A line formed across his forehead.
I’m being too obvious. Take a chill pill, girl. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been attracted to a man before, but this was so much stronger. Nothing she couldn’t control, though.
The smell of his warm, damp flesh filled her nostrils and the pit of her stomach clenched and tingled. Willpower was overrated anyway. A girl needed a little fun once in a while.
He lowered the hand with the towel and opened his mouth, but whatever he wanted to say caught in his throat as she crossed the threshold. Her face must’ve been ferocious, because he stepped back.
She grabbed his hips firmly and pulled herself to him, planting her lips on his still-open mouth. He tensed and she half expected him to push her away, but as she sampled the smooth warmth of his lips, he slowly responded.
The towel dropped quietly to the floor and his strong arms wrapped around her. Luca’s leg twitched and the front door clicked shut. He walked her backward and pinned her against it with his hard body. He wrapped her in his heat and strength.
An uncontrollable desire to get closer to him made her skin blaze—hypersensitive and yearning for his touch. She dragged her fingers down the warm flesh of his back and kneaded his solid shoulders. Their tongues twisted together. She slipped both hands down the back of his pants and grabbed his tight arse.
Quick, heavy breaths tickled her neck as his lips danced their way down the side. A large hand brushed her waist and squeezed her left breast gently, sending a thrill from her nipple to her groin. There was no mistaking the erection pressed against her hip. Just two thin layers of fabric separated them.
What the hell am I doing?
Her mouth stopped moving.
He lived two doors from her and would pass her on the street and in the supermarket. She would have to look him in the eye when this was over and …
She gulped the panic.
Luca looked quizzical. His powder-blue eyes were more alight than she’d ever seen them, as they tried to steal some kind of affirmation from hers. A fleeting pucker between his brows was the only hint of doubt.
Rule number one was to never screw around in her own neighbourhood. How could she maintain control if he knew where she lived? Her hand pressed against his chest.
His expression was one of someone torn between a sweet and a healthy snack. Maybe he was having the same doubts. Whatever his reservations, he must have overcome them, because he scooped her legs out from under her in a fluid movement and carried her upstairs.
A tiny voice in Mya’s head screamed that it was a mistake. No matter how cute he was, it couldn’t end well. Then she nuzzled the smooth curve of his shoulder and inhaled a lungful of cinnamon-scented skin. It had been too long since she’d indulged in human contact, and her body responded with an aching dampness that relegated the tiny voice to background noise.
As he carried her into his dimly lit bedroom, she discreetly gave it the once over, looking for clues about the kind of man he was. No clothes lying on the floor or photos on the cupboards. Surprisingly neat, considering he’d only been in the house for three days. The bed was covered with masculine navy and white linen, and he lowered her feet to the floor beside it.
His eyes didn’t leave hers as he slid her track pants down, followed by lacy lilac knickers. She stepped out of them and then pulled the cord on his pants and let them fall. Enough light penetrated the edges of the curtains for her to appreciate the contours of his body. Muscled arms, flat stomach, and sexy as hell.
There was only the sound of shallow breathing and her pulse racing in her ears. Their gazes roamed over their naked bodies, and the radiant heat between them built the tension until the desire to touch was overwhelming. A need.
His expression was filled with lust as he slid his hands down her hips and then pulled her singlet up over her head. When his long arms wrapped around her and pressed her erect nipples against his balmy chest, they tingled deliciously.
The back of her legs bumped against the bed. She toppled backward and wiggled into the centre of the mattress. Luca positioned himself over her, propped on one elbow, his hot, silky erection against her thigh. One hand sashayed from her ribs to her hips and back again, and she closed her eyes to inhale the shampoo smell of his still-damp hair. She shivered as his palm skimmed her nipple and continued down to her stomach.
Luca’s lips rested lightly on hers, gazes locked. He cupped her pubic bone and slipped a finger inside. A soft huff accompanied the tilt of her hips against his rhythmic motion. Her fingers eagerly explored the supple dips and bows of his body, committing them to memory, the sensation heightening her arousal.
She slipped a
hand between them and delighted as he groaned into her mouth.
He reached into a bedside drawer, withdrew a gold packet, and tore it between his teeth. Mya shuddered with expectation as he unrolled the condom. His face was intense as he moved over her again, held his weight, and nibbled the side of her neck.
Slowly he lowered his hips and she sighed with contentment as he entered her.
Gradually the exchange of gentle moans quickened and became louder until both she and Luca were panting. Her face felt scalded by the flush of desire. Their skin adhered slightly as a sheen of sweat covered them. The ache inside her was answered with every thrust, heightened until she felt her self-control dissolve.
She squirmed in a futile effort to get closer. Deeper. Every one of Luca’s muscles tensed and she rested both feet on his butt to bond him to her as he thrust one last time. He collapsed, still twitching inside her.
“Wow,” he whispered.
He rolled onto his side and reached for a box of tissues. After a long, satisfied sigh, he closed his eyes. His face looked angelic in the glow from around the curtains. Mya had the urge to stroke a finger across his eyelids and nose and lips, to touch the faint line of the scar on his mouth. Every inch of her skin tingled with satisfaction.
As though he felt her watching, he opened his eyes and smiled. There was a glint of playfulness now.
“And we couldn’t have done that at your place?”
She snorted and fell back against a large pillow. The lump on her head made her cringe. “I just came to say thanks for last night.”
“You’re welcome.” He chuckled, rolled onto his side, and traced a finger across her breasts and stomach, his face relaxed. “Did you …?”
“What?”
“You know, come.”
“No, I never do.”
His eyes darted up. “Never?”
She shook her head. He laid back, arms tucked behind his head, a thoughtful twist to his mouth.
Well, that was her exit cue. She swung her legs to the floor and dashed to the en-suite, where she took a seat on the lid of his pristine white toilet. It felt way too intimate to be in there, which was silly after what they’d just done.