All They Need

by Sarah Mayberry

  “Ignore it,” he said, tugging her top up.

  She slipped away from his embrace. “Eat your dinner first, while it’s hot. Then you can have dessert.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  She finished setting out containers of food and he crossed to the fireplace and laid a quick fire. By the time she’d handed him a plateful of savory beef Stroganoff and a hunk of crunchy garlic bread the fire was blazing. He grabbed the pillows from the bed to serve as floor cushions and poured them both a glass of wine.

  “This looks great, Mel,” he said as she joined him in front of the fire.

  They talked casually as they ate and it wasn’t long before he’d wolfed his meal down.

  “That was just what the doctor ordered,” he said as he pushed his plate to one side. He focused on Mel. “Come here.”

  “Maybe we should let our dinner settle first.”

  “In case we get cramps and drown?”

  She laughed. “Something like that.”

  “Get your delectable ass over here.”

  She placed her wineglass carefully on the hearth and moved toward him. Bracing one hand beside him, she leaned close and laid her lips against his. Her mouth was hot and spicy with wine and he made an approving noise in the back of his throat. Then he put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her off balance and into his arms. She collapsed onto his chest with a muffled yelp.

  “That’s better,” he said, rolling swiftly so that she was beneath him, his body splayed over hers. “Now I’ve got you where I want you.”

  “Really?”

  “Definitely.” He grinned down at her. “Now, about this dessert…”

  He reached for the hem of her top and she shifted to allow him to pull it over her head. His eyes narrowed appreciatively as he took in the almost transparent black lace of her bra.

  “Nice.”

  He lowered his head and began to kiss and lick the curve of her breast until finally he was sucking her nipple through the lace of her bra. She stirred beneath him and he transferred his attention to her other breast, repeating the action. She slid her hands down his back to his sides and then around to the front of his jeans. When she started to fumble with the stud, he caught her hands.

  “Uh-uh,” he said.

  “Sorry?”

  “I haven’t finished my dessert yet.”

  He reached out and undid the snap on her jeans. Holding her gaze, he started to peel her jeans down her legs. Her mouth opened ever so slightly and she licked her lower lip. His gaze dropped to her hips. She was wearing black stretch-lace French knickers and he smoothed his hand over her belly and down onto her mound.

  “Great presentation. Pass my compliments to the chef,” he said.

  She swallowed a laugh as he tucked a finger into the waistband and pulled her panties down. He studied her, admiring the paleness of her skin, the taut muscles of her thighs, the dark silk of her hair.

  “So beautiful, Mel…”

  He swept a hand from her hip to her knee before pushing her thighs wide. He moved lower, settling himself between her thighs. She caught her breath as he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, following it with an exploratory lick. A shudder racked her body.

  “Don’t forget to breathe,” he murmured.

  She dropped against the pillows as he started to tease her with his fingers and tongue and mouth. Stroking her inside and out, he drove her higher and higher until she was mindless with need. She fisted a hand in his hair and pushed her hips toward him, unashamedly demanding everything he had to give. When she came, she cried out, her back arching off the floor, her body as taut as a bow.

  She collapsed onto the carpet, as loose as a rag doll. He was so hard it was a wonder he hadn’t exploded. He kicked his suit pants to one side and rolled a condom on before laying his body over hers and drawing one rosy pink nipple into his mouth. His erection nudged against her slick folds and she gave a low, needy moan and tilted her hips to accept him. He slid home to the hilt and started to move inside her. She gripped his ass, hips lifting to meet his thrusts.

  “Yes. Please, Flynn, you feel so good…?.”

  He whispered in her ear, dirty, sexy words of praise, telling her how she made him feel, how much he loved her body. She shuddered as she came, his name on her lips. A few seconds later he followed her, his cheek pressed against hers.

  After laying lax and spent in the flickering light of the fire for endless minutes, they made the bed and drifted into sleep beneath his new down duvet.

  He woke with a start to find Mel sitting upright in the bed beside him, the covers pooled around her waist.

  “Hey,” he said sleepily, reaching out to lay a hand on her naked back. “You okay?”

  She was tense and her skin was clammy with sweat.

  “Sorry. I think I must have been too hot or something.”

  She slipped out of the bed before he could respond. Her pale figure was like a ghost in the darkened room as she headed for the door.

  “Mel. It’s freezing,” he said.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said as she walked out the door.

  Flynn threw back the covers and walked across to flick on the light. The fire had burned down to embers and he threw some more kindling on before scooping up Mel’s T-shirt from the floor. He grabbed a T-shirt for himself from his overnight bag and shrugged into it as he went in search of Mel. He found her in the bathroom, washing her face with big handfuls of water. The room was freezing and she was shivering and covered with gooseflesh.

  “You’ll catch a cold. Here,” he said, handing her the T-shirt.

  “Thanks.”

  She dried her face on a towel before slipping the T-shirt over her head. “Come here.”

  He pulled her into his arms, smoothing his hands over her back to try to warm her. It took a moment for her body to relax into his embrace.

  “What’s going on?” he asked quietly.

  “Just a bad dream. Nothing important.”

  He hesitated a moment. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “No. It was mostly gobbledygook. Bits and pieces of lots of stuff.”

  She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his throat.

  “Your house is very cold.” Her hands slid to his backside and she cupped his butt cheeks. “Lucky you’re so hot.”

  She kissed his neck again, opening her mouth this time. His body stirred to life instantly but he was very aware of the fact that Mel was using sex to distract him. She lifted a leg and ran her foot along his calf, pressing her hips against his. He pulled back from her a little so he could see her face.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She returned his regard, her gray eyes unreadable.

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  She kissed him, urging him close again with her hands on his hips. This time he didn’t resist, even though he knew he wasn’t getting the full picture, even though he suspected that Mel wasn’t fine. She clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and she clearly also wanted to make love again. He was prepared to follow her lead. For now, anyway.

  They returned to the living room and made slow love, firelight flickering over their bodies. Afterward, Mel tucked her body against his back and rested her cheek on his shoulder. A few minutes later she was asleep. He lay awake, watching the fire, thinking.

  He knew Mel’s marriage had been unhappy. She’d intimated that her ex had been critical, maybe even controlling. The day they’d had lunch together she’d also implied that Owen Hunter’s parents had not approved of their marriage and that she’d never fit in with the Melbourne society set.

  Not a good picture, any of it. And he could understand why Mel might be gun-shy. He wished he knew more about what she was thinking, how she was feeling, because he was about as committed as it was possible to get. Had been for some time now. For the first time in his life, he was truly in love. Mel was the woman he’d been waiting his whole life to find. Everything in him wanted to sweep her off her
feet and put things in motion to start the rest of their lives together.

  But only an idiot would ignore the subtle and not-so-subtle signals that Mel was broadcasting. She’d been reluctant to acknowledge their attraction from the very beginning, and even though he’d been hoping that what had happened between them last weekend would have put paid to some of her doubts, it was clear that she was still very much feeling her way as far as their relationship was concerned.

  He was going to have to be patient, and he was going to have to let Mel set the pace. It chafed the impetuous idiot boy in him, but at the end of the day, as long as they wound up at the same destination, he was willing to take as circuitous a route as Mel required. Whatever it took.

  Because she was worth it. A million times over.

  THE NEXT DAY they both woke early. After a quick shower, they walked into the village and bought croissants and pain au chocolat from the local bakery and ate them during the walk to Summerlea. He still had her brush-cutter in his garage, and Mel insisted on borrowing her brother-in-law’s machine as well so they could tackle the blackberry brambles in tandem. By the time they were finished they had a huge pile of severed canes and a large collection of cuts, scratches and splinters between them. Walking to the house with Mel at his side, his muscles aching pleasantly from a day of physical activity, Flynn had a vision of how the rest of his life could look—the two of them working here at Summerlea, restoring the garden to its former glory, restoring the house, growing together. It felt so close, so achievable, as though he could almost reach out and touch it.

  “I was thinking of inviting my parents down next weekend to show them around the place,” he said as they stored the equipment in the garage.

  Mel shot him a quick, startled look before her expression smoothed into polite interest. “I didn’t realize they hadn’t seen it yet.”

  “Between one thing and another, I haven’t had the chance to have them down yet. I was thinking we could do a bit of a tour here, then go to one of the local wineries for lunch. What do you think?”

  “It sounds lovely. I can recommend a few places for you if you like. I always get good feedback from guests who try the restaurant at Paringa Estate, and I’ve been hearing good things about La Pétanque, too.”

  “So which day would suit you better? Saturday or Sunday?”

  She gave a funny little shrug. “Sorry, but next weekend isn’t great for me. Rex has got this thing at his school and I promised to help out.”

  “How about the following weekend?”

  She pushed her thick plait back over her shoulder. “Don’t change your plans on my account. I’m sure your parents are keen to see this money pit that you’ve bought.”

  “Sure. But I’d like them to meet you, too,” he said.

  Her smile was forced. “They can meet me any old time. Seriously, don’t put them off for my sake.”

  He studied her a moment, tempted to push. Then he had a flash of her standing naked and shivering in his bathroom last night, fleeing from a bad dream she wouldn’t share with him.

  “Okay, sure. Why not?” he said easily.

  Her shoulders dropped visibly with relief. Just as well he’d already had a conversation with himself about being patient, otherwise his ego would be in the gutter right about now.

  They went inside the house together and, because he couldn’t resist, he slid an arm around her shoulders. The tight feeling in his gut loosened as she leaned readily into the contact, resting her head briefly on his shoulder as her arm slid around his waist.

  Slow and steady wins the race, he reminded himself.

  Slow and steady.

  GUILT ATE AT Mel for the rest of the weekend. No matter how many times she told herself she hadn’t technically been lying when she said she was busy the following weekend, the reality was that if she’d wanted to, she could have made time to meet Flynn’s parents.

  And Flynn knew it, too. He hadn’t said anything, but she had seen the knowledge in his eyes as he’d accepted her feeble excuse. The urge to tell him that she’d changed her mind, that she’d find a way to be available, gripped her half a dozen times, but each time she balked.

  She didn’t want to meet his parents. And not only because she didn’t have the greatest track record as far as parental approval went, although that was definitely a part of it. She didn’t want to meet Flynn’s parents because it felt like the first step toward something she didn’t want to even think about.

  The man is besotted with you, Mel.

  Her sister’s words kept echoing inside her head. She pushed them away again and again, but every time she looked at Flynn and saw the warmth and tenderness in his eyes her heart did a little backflip in her chest and she knew that he cared for her deeply.

  This was serious for him. It was serious for her, too. More and more so. But that didn’t mean she was ready to meet his parents. It seemed…too much. Too fast. Too heavy. Too real. The ink was barely dry on her divorce papers. She needed time to adjust, for her head to catch up with her galloping, reckless heart.

  She almost felt relieved when he left on Sunday night. She waved him off from her front porch, grateful that she was going to have a few days’ reprieve from the intensity of her own feelings when she was around him. Then she went inside and immediately registered how cold and empty her house felt without his warm presence.

  Great. He’s barely been gone five minutes and you want him back already. Way to keep a grip on things, champ.

  She didn’t call him the next day, to prove to herself that she could. But on Tuesday she caved and called and wound up agreeing to meet him at his place again that evening. She was pulling up in front of his town house when her phone rang.

  “Mel, I’m really sorry. I’ve had a problem come up here at work. I’ll do my best to hose things down, but it’s going to be another twenty minutes minimum before I can get away,” Flynn said.

  “No worries. I’ll go for a walk and check out your neighbors.”

  “I’m really sorry about this.” He sounded frustrated and more than a little angry.

  “Flynn. It’s okay. I get it. You have a big, big company to run. I’ll see you when you get here, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She killed the time by driving around until she found the local supermarket. She knew from conversations they’d had that he was a sucker for pasta so she bought ingredients for one of her favorite dishes, then threw in a bar of fruit and nut chocolate because she knew he liked that, too. She returned to his town house and had just turned on the radio to listen to talkback when she heard the distinctive rumble of the Aston Martin’s engine. Flynn gave her a wave as he drove past and she grabbed her groceries and her overnight bag and walked over.

  “Hey,” he said as he emerged from the garage.

  His tie was pulled loose and he looked pale. Her chest tightened. More than anything she wished there was something she could do to lighten his burden.

  “Hey, yourself,” she said.

  They kissed, his five-o’clock shadow rough against her face.

  “I bought makings for dinner, in case you didn’t feel like going out anywhere,” she said as they drew apart.

  “You don’t have to cook for me.”

  “It’s hardly cooking. Spaghetti with garlic bread crumbs. It’s more assembling than anything else.”

  “Mel. How am I supposed to stick to my guns when you offer me spaghetti with garlic bread crumbs?”

  “Give in gracefully. It’s the only way to preserve any dignity.”

  He dropped a quick kiss onto her mouth. “Deal.”

  He unlocked the door and she followed him into the kitchen.

  “Give me five to get out of this suit,” he said.

  “Show me where your knives are and I’ll get started while you’re gone,” she suggested.

  He grabbed a chopping board from beside the oven and opened a drawer to indicate a selection of knives.

  “Great. You go do your thing,” she
said, waving him away.

  By the time he reappeared she’d peeled the garlic and was chopping it as finely as possible.

  “Olive oil?” she asked, glancing at him.

  He’d changed into jeans and a navy hoodie and his feet were bare, his hair even more ruffled. “Naturally.”

  He grabbed a tall bottle from the pantry and slid it onto the counter beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. He leaned close and dropped a kiss onto the nape of her neck.

  “It’s good to see you,” he said, his voice very deep.

  Heat bloomed between her thighs. “You, too.”

  He moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her as she sliced a lemon in half. She smiled as she felt the nudge of his erection against her backside.

  “Behave yourself or we’ll starve,” she said.

  He pressed another kiss to the nape of her neck, his whiskers sending a delicious shiver down her spine.

  “I’ll try, but I can’t make any guarantees.” He released her then and moved to the wine rack beside the fridge.

  “Red or white?”

  “I’m not sure. What would you recommend with bread crumbs?” she asked, tongue very firmly in cheek.

  “Hmm. Tough call. Something light, something cheeky. A shiraz, perhaps?”

  “I bow to your superior knowledge.”

  He was smiling as he pulled a bottle of wine from the rack. A warm, expansive feeling filled her chest. It was good being here with him like this, knowing that the whole evening stretched ahead of them. Knowing that she would sleep in his arms tonight and drive home to her own house tomorrow.

  “Before I forget…”

  She waited for him to finish his sentence, and saw that he was lifting a key ring from the hook stuck to the side of the fridge.

  “The spare key. So next time you can let yourself in instead of trawling the streets in search of spaghetti,” he said.

  He held his hand out, the key dangling in the air between them.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  MEL STARED AT THE KEY for a long beat before shifting her focus to the cutting board.

  “I don’t need a key,” she said, trying to keep her voice as casual as possible as she chopped the remainder of the parsley.