She sniggered. “That statement could be taken two ways. I’ll not wish I hadn’t come, come tomorrow, I promise.”
He smiled. Trust her. “Good but, love, listen well. It’ll mark you. Make you mine. I’ll bite, nip and scar. I’ll take you. Brand you. I may have only known you for a few hours, but by God, I know the type of man I am. If I make you mine, it’ll be forever. I know my own mind, I have faith in my intuition, and it’s letting me know this is ‘it’. So think very carefully, my Vairi. Are you up for taking that risk?”
The silence was total. Raig was glad. Glad she was taking his statement seriously. It mattered to him more than he’d ever imagined possible.
“I think so.” She spoke clearly, her voice unhurried. “But I’m not sure, Rake, and I need to be. Oh, not about the nipping and biting bit. I’ll give as good as I get. But forever? After only knowing you for a few hours?” She shook her head.
Not in negation, he thought, more in bemusement. He understood how she felt. He didn’t understand this connection between them himself. He just knew it was there.
“Get real,” Vairi continued. “What happened to try before you buy?”
“In this economic climate? Not a snowball in hell’s chance. It’s all cash on delivery these days. Or rather, no sale and return. That’s the price we pay. If you want us, we’re here for the taking. If not?” He shrugged. There was nothing else he could say.
With such an expressive face, her thoughts and doubts were easily read. He was ready to bet she’d now come out with a flat ‘no’, and he’d be driving her home and not driving into her. Wisely, he kept quiet, knowing it had to be her decision. He’d been taken aback by how easily he’d realized she was the one needed to make his life complete. As a kid, Raig had laughed at his da when he had told him that one look at his ma and he’d known she was the one for him—the shoe was now on the other foot. The photograph he had seen had whetted his appetite but not prepared him for meeting Vairi in the flesh. With the first look, he’d been smitten. He could have beaten his chest, Tarzan-style, jumping up and down, shouting ‘mine’.
Vairi’s shoulders straightened, almost because now her decision was made, it was time to impart it.
His cock shriveled as if it needed to hide—just in case. For fuck’s sake, in case of what? Get a grip. Hell, I’m acting like a wuss. Man up and face the music. Or whatever.
Raig held his breath as he waited anxiously for her to speak and decide their fate. How on earth he would handle it if she came out with a flat ‘no’, he didn’t want to imagine. Conversely, if they made love, and she said ‘thanks but no thanks’, would that not be worse? Bloody hellfire, he admonished himself angrily. Stop second-guessing the woman and let her speak. And expand your vocabulary, why don’t you? ‘For fuck’s sake’ and ‘bloody hellfire’ are well overused.
“Have you done muttering?” Vairi inquired as she sat down next to him. As he nodded with a wry grin, she smiled at him, her face lighting up. “I’m as worried as you are. It’s not a one-way street, you know? You looked like a toddler who’s been told he can’t have a third lollipop. Man up.”
He guessed what she was going to tell him would make him feel he wasn’t getting a fourth. Even so, his cock reacted predictably to her smile. She noticed, of course. It would be difficult not to when his jeans now seemed two sizes too small.
“Down, boy. You haven’t heard what I’m going to say yet.”
Ah, did he really want to?
Chapter Two
He just knew she was about to cut out his heart. He could tell by looking at her now-unhappy face, her features pinched and drawn with no sign of that recent smile, just how she was affected and troubled by her soon-to-be-given answer.
Ah, bollocks.
Vairi took a deep breath and laced her fingers together in her lap. “Raig, I can’t. I’m so, so sorry. I want you. Hell, do I want you. My body is throbbing thinking how bloody good I imagine we could—no, fuck it—would be together.”
It was obvious to him just how she struggled to explain the way she felt. He shrugged. “Your decision, love.” Even to himself he sounded a pompous git. Raig winced. It wasn’t like him to behave that way. Mind you, he’d not been turned down before either. Unless one counted Eileen Craven behind the bike sheds in a ‘you show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ session, aged fifteen and fourteen respectively.
Vairi’s eyes sparked. “Exactly, and get the stick out of your arse and listen properly. Sheesh, it would be oh-so-easy to say, ‘hey, yeah, why not’. Let you into my knickers and fuck. But forever? I can’t promise that. Shit, all I know about you is what you’ve told me tonight, which is basically nothing. I’ve been stung once. I’m not going down that road again. The price is too high.”
As he answered her in a bitter voice, he felt sick. “It’s usually the bloke after the one-night stand, not the woman. Trust us to be doing it the other way round. I can’t change the price, Vairi My Queen. I’d be doing us both a disservice. It would be Cava, not Champagne, cheap and…” His voice trailed off as he shrugged once more. “Ah well, your decision. One I’ll not be happy with, but one I’ll respect. When you feel up to it, I’ll take you home. Unfortunately, on a bike. Can you cope? Will you be needing a sick bag?”
He watched her face, recognized the regret and the determination there.
“I’ll be fine. I’m more sorry than you will ever know, Raig. Hard though it is to believe, it’s my world I’ve ripped apart as well as yours. For some unknown reason, I’ve fallen for you and fallen hard. Something I would have said was only in fairy tales and a load of crap in real life, but there it is. No, wait”—he had been about to butt in—“I have to be able to live with my conscience. I won’t lie or bullshit about something so important. Yes, I want you and could easily say, ‘hey, let’s do it’, then afterward tell you I’d changed my mind. But that would be dishonest and go against my principles, so I won’t do that. Even if it means I go home hot, horny and irritable and rue the day I threw my bullet into the bin. It’s too soon and too fast to make a decision like that.” She sighed. “I’m ready to go if you are.”
“Oh yeah, I’m ready. Not that it’ll do me any fucking good.” Shit, he really did sound like a whinging five-year-old who couldn’t have the toy he wanted.
“Well, tough.” Vairi stood over him and poked him on the shoulder. “You might be every woman’s clit-rubbing dream, Rake, but you’re a bloody sulky one.” She stopped as she realized what she had said. The look of astonishment on her face would have been comical if he wasn’t so bloody grouchy.
“Oh lordy, I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
Raig nodded, and knew by the way she rolled her eyes his expression was still petulant. For Christ’s sake, she’d admitted she could get off just thinking about him and still wasn’t going to admit it was more than a passing fancy. His despair overwhelmed him—he’d run out of ideas. He saw the moment she lost the plot.
“Oh, for goodness sake, grow up! Sorry if I’ve thrown your life plans out of kilter, but that is life. Nothing ever goes as you expect it to. Build a bridge, man. Get over it. Shit, be thankful I’m being honest with you.” She scowled and paced to the door. “Oh, don’t bother to take me home. I’ll get a taxi.”
That annoyed him. “You most certainly will not. I’ll get the helmets.” He prayed that later she would remember his tone. He cared. Even if he seemed surly, he cared. In silence she waited by the door, one sparkly shod foot tapping ominously while he collected two bike helmets.
Still in silence, Raig escorted her out of the trailer, locked the door behind them and walked across the grass to a secure compound where he retrieved one of his pride and joys. Big, black and phallic, his motorbike was something he truly treasured. The throbbing power between his legs, the wind rushing past, the noise of wheels on Tarmac, arcing around corners, speeding down the straights, was truly sexual. It was even better with a willing woman riding behind, her pussy hard up to his ass, her arms t
ight around him, hands creeping into his crotch to brush his cock. To know when the bike ride was over, the body ride would begin.
He was on plums this time. His face stony and his cock hard, Raig wheeled the BMW toward her and settled on it.
“Helmet.” He put his on and waited for her to comply. “Do you need help to get on?” God, he hated his tone, but hadn’t the foggiest idea how to change it. He hurt. She’d hurt him and now…well, now he needed time to heal. If he could.
“Spitting the dummy out, Raig?” she inquired pleasantly as she swung her leg over the saddle and put a good three inches between her crotch and his butt. “Having a hissy fit because life doesn’t revolve around you and your wants?”
Raig reached behind himself, catching her unawares as he pulled her snug against him. “I’m not the bad man here, Vairi. You won’t catch anything by holding on to me.” He didn’t wait for an answer before he revved the engine and set off. If she chose to hang on to the grip bars instead it was no skin off his nose. “I’m trying not to be a pain in the ass. It’s not bloody easy.”
And if he believed any of that he’d also believe leprechauns were hiding in his trailer and messing up the wardrobe.
Vairi put her arms around him and held on to his waist as they rode in silence. She didn’t ask how he knew where he was going, and he didn’t offer the information. She probably registered the fact that Denny and Lorna must have told him. Unerringly, he drove to her cottage and pulled up by the gate. She unwrapped her arms from him as if he were poison. Raig left the engine idling, not bothering to see if she could get off unaided. If his touch was so undesirable, then sod her. He knew when he wasn’t wanted.
“Lost your manners as well as your tongue?” Vairi spoke acerbically. “Well, Raig, you deserve it. Stop being a wanker.” She took off the helmet and shook her head to lift her flattened hair. “Talk about having a tantrum because, oh dear, how sad, your plans have been thwarted. I bet you’re not used to not getting your own way. Well, hello. Welcome to the real world, Padraig Whoever-you-are O’Shea. Give and take, not take and take. I might fancy the pants off you, you do things to my clit no one else ever has, even when you’re speaking in that arsy voice. But think on, you’re thirty-one and I’m forty-four. You’re a roamer, I need to be here. You want happy-ever-after forever. I don’t believe in either. Not a lot in common, then.”
He didn’t answer or try to justify himself. Everything she said was true, and he was ashamed of his behavior. If the truth be told, he was scared he would start blubbering like a baby as he listened to her ripping their lives to shreds.
“Oh, what’s the use?” Vairi flung her hands in the air.
Raig had seen that done in films but never in real life. He’d always reckoned it looked over the top, but not now. It encapsulated everything he reckoned she thought about him. None of it positive.
“Bugger it,” she said in a strange voice. “I’ll go find my vibrator—luckily that didn’t go in the bin with the bullet—then try to get drunk. Thank you for the lift home.”
He found himself holding a helmet as she thrust it none too gently at his stomach and stalked away without waiting to see if he was going to answer her. He wasn’t.
Instead he waited until she entered the house and slammed the door behind her so vehemently he jolted, pleased there was no part of his anatomy in the way. Especially the part that was standing up again and begging for immediate attention. Contrary or not. Am I about to get my rocks off on her anger now? And that, Raig, my lad, is all up to you. Pitiful. Sadly, though, he was going to have to do something about it. He couldn’t function with a hard-on strong enough to break rocks. Definitely ‘up’. Hands or no hands—that was the question. Women had a choice, hands or toys. Seemed like she would use both and have a drink. Damn if he wouldn’t do the same, but without the toys. Unless he played solitaire as he jerked himself off.
Raig, you are a jerk. He used extreme care as he drove away, knowing his emotions were high. He suspected that perhaps driving such a powerful machine with his mind in turmoil was not a good idea. He had almost reached the fairground when he made his decision. He slowed the bike, turned and sped back the way he had come.
The stupid woman had left her key in the door. Face it, it’s my sodding fault. I made her so mad. She’s probably half cut and rolling by now, drunk and wasted. All down to me and my piss-poor attitude.
From inside the house he could hear voices, more than likely the TV. Anyone could march in and surprise her, he thought, as he did just that and made sure he retrieved the key and locked the door behind him. He didn’t want them disturbed by anyone.
The voices turned out to be the TV, just as he’d suspected. As he looked from the hallway through the open lounge door, he could see Vairi sitting on the sofa, glass in hand, alternating between muttering words which sounded suspiciously like ‘wanker’, ‘arsehole’ and ‘macho male prick’, and singing off-key as she seemed mesmerized by the action on the set. He fixed the voices as those belonging to the couple on the screen. Now…what the—
Moving forward to stand behind the sofa, he put his hand on her shoulder. “Vairi McQueen, is that porn you’re watching?”
The shriek as she spun around, splashing wine all over herself and the sofa, dislodging a bra from its place on the back of the couch to land at his feet, was loud enough to waken the dead. He wondered if his hearing would ever be the same again.
“Why is there a naked woman climbing out of a birthday cake on the TV?” he asked, interested.
“What? Oh, Red Shoe Diaries with David Duchovny. I used to lust after him. The best thing since sliced bread before you… Hold on.” Scrambling off the sofa, she thumped him so hard on the chest he rocked on his heels. “You bastard. What the fuck am I doing discussing porn with you when you’ve just scared me out of my wits? You fucker, what the hell are you doing to me? How dare you barge in and frighten the life out of me?” The fear and anger in her voice were real and loud. “You left. Buggered off. Didn’t want what I offered. No one-night stands for the moralistic high and mighty Padraig O’Shea, eh? So why are you here? Come to gloat?”
Something of his anguish must have shown, because as he stood there in front of her—clothes rumpled, no doubt with his face drawn and eyes tired, her door key held silently out toward her—he saw the anger drain from her face.
“Why, Raig?” she asked quietly. “I haven’t changed my mind.”
“I have. I lied,” he said bluntly. “I’ll take you however I can get you. An hour, a night. So be it. I’ll take what you want to give.” He paused and looked at her somberly. He was sure he must have shadows under his eyes, probably looked like something the cat had dragged in, and wondered if she still wanted him as much as he wanted her, with him looking as wrecked as he was.
“I’ll tell you now though, Vairi My Queen, and I’ll keep mentioning it over and over. I won’t ever stop trying to change your mind about us,” Raig said honestly. “Every hour, every day, I’ll be chip-chipping at your defenses. Wearing you down. I’ll keep on asking, Vairi, be mine. Be mine forever. One day you’ll say yes to me. Then we will be one.”
She squinted up at him and shook her head slightly as if she was trying to clear it. “Hell, you look like a romantic novel’s cover. And ta-talk like the buck…no, back.” She beamed. “All master… Full, a-a gor-gorgeous bod. Hold on. Why is there two Rakes? ‘Swons enough.”
Raig looked at her closely. Smashed. Just like that, from one sentence to another. Her glazed eyes were half closed, the overlarge wineglass she held at a dangerous angle almost empty. She smiled and looked at him owlishly, as if he held the answers to the meaning of life. He wished he did—he would do anything for her, he realized. She was the meaning of his life. This was where he should be. Forever. If that was not available, then shit, he would just take for now. Even if that included her smiling, smashed and—oh hell—nuzzling his neck as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, all while holding on to her glass, w
hich was still tilted so the remains of the wine slopped perilously near to the rim.
“Ah, Vairi My Queen, we are both so foolish, are we not?” He tried to pry the wineglass from her hand, but she was having none of it.
“Shmine.” She shook her head, groaned but still held on to the goblet with a grip that would do a wrestler proud. “You c’n get one tho’. In cu-cu’bud.” Ah, his queen was well away.
“Come on, my love, let’s share that one.” He smiled cajolingly. However, like a true drunk, it was her glass, and no way was she going to share.
“No, get y’r own.” She squinted. “Hey, you’re him. Rake. Rake, who don’t wanna make.” She hiccupped and laughed. “An…an…lurv…sh. You dun’ wan’ me…” She ended on a wail. Then she took another hefty mouthful of wine and looked—as best she could—at her glass. “‘S empty.” She mourned. “Wh-where’s bottle?”
He managed to keep his face straight. Just. Oh, what a sore head she has set herself up for. “Ah, all gone, my love. Shall we be getting you into bed now?”
“Mm, now thesh ‘n offer.” She handed him her glass and tugged his head down and planted a wet kiss on his face, moved her other hand to grab his butt and squeeze. “S’long as you comin’.” She giggled. He had no idea what she was trying to say, as she stood in front of him, her luscious breasts, unfettered by a bra, pressed close to him. “Cos I c-come ‘swell. Wanna, wanna see you c-come,” she finished triumphantly, pulling on his hand as she swayed, and suddenly let go and fell back onto the settee. Behind her, on the TV, the woman wearing a pair of high heels and little else was still prancing around a cardboard cake. At any other time, his eyes would have been transfixed by what was on the screen. Now they were riveted on Vairi, trying to judge what she was going to do next. Nothing expected, that was for sure. She was smiling at him dreamily, holding her arms up to him.
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