Declan Reede: The Untold Story (Complete Series)

by Michelle Irwin

  While my eyes were still closed, Alyssa made her move. Her tongue pushed forward and traced along my bottom lip. I groaned again, wondering if she knew exactly what she did to me. Opening my eyes, I was greeted by the lust dancing behind her gaze.

  Every muscle in my body was primed and ready for action.

  Every muscle.

  Taking my time, giving her the chance to stop me if she wanted, I slid my tongue forward to greet hers. Her eyes closed and it was her turn to moan. My arm moved from her waist to her hair and my fingers trailed it. I used the hold to guide her closer, drawing her to me until there was barely a breath between us. Her hands gripped my shoulders, the increased pressure sending a sharp ache down my side. A moan ripped from my lips, but the sound seemed to spur her on. I wondered whether she’d mistaken it for lust—I wasn’t game to tell her otherwise. The pain was bearable—just—and worth every second to be able to kiss her again.

  With her hold on my shoulders, she gripped tighter, as if she couldn’t decide what she wanted. Like she was pushing me away even as she moved forward into the kiss.

  I was seventeen again, with the images of the life Alyssa wanted in my head. University. Career. Marriage. Family. Only now, I wanted it too. I still wanted to race, but I’d proven that could be a career.

  Maybe I didn’t have to choose; I could have it all. The thought raced through my mind, and sent a course of fresh desire rushing through my body.

  There was a long road to walk, but I wanted to prove to Alyssa that I could do it. Which meant knowing when to slow down. Like right then. I was sore, bruised, and freshly tattooed. Alyssa still didn’t completely trust me. Nothing would be served by continuing down the path of seduction, even though I really wanted to. Sleeping with Alyssa so soon would only prove that I was an arse who couldn’t keep it in his pants.

  Even as I battled to maintain control, my body reacted instinctively and my hands traced down to her neck. She pulled away from me but only to tilt her head up and issue a breathy sigh.

  My lips moved to her exposed throat, tasting and sucking her smooth skin. Another wanton groan slipped past her lips. Her hands clasped my neck, pulling me closer still. A garbled cry at the fresh wave of agony down my side made it as far as my lips before disappearing against her skin. It was torturous, but I didn’t want it to stop.

  My kisses reached her shoulder and I desperately wanted to keep going, to push the material out of the way and continue down to explore her breasts. With an effort worthy of a Bathurst win, I finally gathered up enough control to pull away from her. As I did, I sank back against the armrest, trying to put some distance between us.

  Only, Alyssa followed my retreat.

  Her torso twisted and stretched to lie on top of me. Her hands threaded into my hair and she pressed her lips to mine again. Before I could fight it, I was lying beneath her on the couch, her warm body resting between my legs and my hands positioned on the small of her back. It made my ribs ache, and my back burned where it was pressed into the couch, but I couldn’t ask her to stop because she might.

  She was on top of me, in front of me, all around me. Despite the pain rolling over my body in waves, I couldn’t complain about a damned thing. Over the top of her thin dress, I drew small circles, tracing the tiny dimples near her tailbone. She pressed her hips forward, grinding lightly against mine.

  “Oh, fuck,” I whispered into her mouth.

  I grabbed at her hips, pulling them over mine, relishing the feel of the pressure. It was almost enough to take away the pain of my ribs. I had never wanted anything, or anyone, more than I wanted her in that moment.

  “Shit, sorry, that must be painful,” she said as she pushed herself up so she was sitting on my lap. With a tender touch, she leaned over and, just like she had in London, kissed each of my ribs.

  The part of me that was screaming resistance was getting smaller with every passing second, and with every swipe of Alyssa’s tongue against my skin. My fingers played at the hem of her dress. It would be so easy to pull it off. Then I’d be able to feel her skin against me once more. I’d see her in whatever underwear she was currently wearing.

  Just the thought of it made me groan in anticipation. It had only been a few weeks since we’d been together in London, but it felt like years. Placing a hand on either side of her hips, I played my fingers upwards, inching her dress higher and higher.

  A loud beeping sound broke the silence in the house. The noise wasn’t so unbearable that I couldn’t ignore it, but it was enough to distract Alyssa.

  “Oh, shit,” she said, as she climbed off me.

  Standing in front of me, she smoothed down her dress and ran her fingers through her hair. Her gaze shifted from my face to my crotch and back again. A moment later, blushing brightly, she walked off in the direction of the noise.

  I stood quickly to follow her, adjusting myself to find some space in my pants as I went. As we passed the spot where she’d dropped the clean shirt earlier, she ducked down and picked it up before throwing it back to me, all without turning her head in my direction. I slid it on without a second thought. Obviously my bare chest was making her uncomfortable and that was the last thing I wanted.

  It was only as I reached the laundry a split second behind her that the obvious question came to me.

  “Why do you have a man’s shirt?” I asked, as she opened the machine lid.

  Alyssa turned to look at me. “It’s Flynn’s,” she said, as if the question was absurd and the answer obvious.

  “Why do you have Flynn’s shirt then?” I wondered whether the fucker made a regular habit of coming to her house and getting shirtless.

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding me aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  She reached into the washing machine to pull out the clothes. “You aren’t seriously still jealous of Flynn, are you?”

  Am I? In a way, I was. At least a little. Not because I thought the fucker was into Alyssa or was a threat to me in that way. But he had almost four years of Alyssa’s life that I’d never have.

  He had three years with Phoebe that I’d never get back.

  He was in their lives in ways I had never been—in all the ways I wanted to be now that I knew the truth. I wondered if he’d been there to experience all of Phoebe’s firsts. Had he held her hand and helped her with her first steps? I felt physically ill at the thought.

  It should have been me. It would have if I’d just picked up the damn phone.

  Wouldn’t it?

  Before I got a chance to consider the answer to my own question, Alyssa huffed, bringing my attention back to her. “Seriously. You never listen properly do you?”

  “What?” I expected to get a lecture about how Flynn was gay and there was nothing between them, so her next statement confused me.

  “I said to put the towels in the basket and your shirt in the washing machine.”

  “So?”

  “What did you do?”

  I thought about that. I’d come inside and . . . fuck. I’d just thrown everything in the washing machine. It was my turn to blush. “Sorry.”

  She pulled out my shirt. It was covered in multicoloured fluff.

  “What happened to that?” I asked.

  “Someone put towels in the washing machine with it.”

  “Oh.”

  Shaking her head, Alyssa examined it. “It might be salvageable,” she said. Then she put my shirt into the dryer on its own. “Hopefully this will get rid of some of the pilling.” She cleaned some dust out of a cover on the front of the dryer and pressed some buttons to start it.

  I was lost and wasn’t afraid to tell her so. “Thank you for this. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise. Probably left it for Mum to do in the morning.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “You are pretty clueless about all things domestic, aren’t you?”

  I put my arms out to her in apology. “I’m pretty clueless in lots of things. But I’m trying.”
r />   She considered me for a minute, then nodded. “Yes, you are trying.” She stepped into my outstretched arms and wrapped her arms around my waist. It didn’t escape my attention that she was being careful not to put too much pressure on the bruises on my side.

  I rested my cheek on the top of her head. My breath came in long, shaky gasps. I wanted her so badly. Just being near her was driving me crazy. I felt myself losing the semblance of control I’d finally achieved, and knew it would be a mistake to stay any longer. There would be no way I’d be able to resist turning on the charm and trying to get her into bed with me. The way her heart pounded against my chest as I held her tightly, I didn’t think it would be a massive challenge. I dropped my arms and stepped back.

  “Alyssa, I’d better go.”

  “Why?” She seemed shocked.

  I tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear; she closed her eyes and sighed as our skin made contact When she looked back at me, her breathing as unsteady as mine, I smiled.

  “That’s why. I don’t think we should . . .” I trailed off, sure the look in my eyes and straining crotch were enough to communicate to her what I didn’t think we should do. Even though I really, really wanted to.

  She nodded. “No, we definitely shouldn’t,”—she bit her lip and her voice fell to a whisper—“at least not yet.”

  I ducked down and our lips met in a chaste kiss.

  “Can I see you tomorrow?” I asked. Then I added, “Only if you want to though.”

  “Sure,” she breathed. “You’ll need to come back to get your shirt anyway.”

  “Oh, and while I remember, are you free on Saturday?”

  “Why?”

  “I want to take you somewhere, just the two of us. Then I’d like us to go out on Sunday, as a family.”

  She shook her head. “I’d like to, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get a babysitter at such short notice.”

  “Mum’s going to do it,” I said. Only after the words were out did I understand that it might sound like I’d been working behind her back. “That is, I asked her if she wouldn’t mind if no one else could.”

  Alyssa looked shocked but didn’t say anything.

  “What is it?”

  “Your mum agreed to have Phoebe on a weekend?” she asked with a frown.

  “Yeah. I mean I thought you said Phoebe went around there a bit, so I . . .” I trailed off. The look on her face worried me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “I don’t, as such. It’s just . . . your mum doesn’t usually watch Phoebe on weekends, that’s all.”

  I felt my eyebrows pinch together. “Why not?”

  “No reason, I guess.” Her voice was full of stress and her eyes brimmed with concern.

  I cupped her cheek. “There is a reason, what is it?”

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “Please don’t”—she inhaled deeply—”don’t make me explain. Not now.”

  I hated seeing her in this much pain—especially knowing it was my fault, even though I didn’t know the reason. “Okay. No explanations necessary tonight. But when you are ready, I’ll be here.”

  “I hope so,” she whispered.

  “No, not hope so,” I replied. I lifted her chin so I was looking directly into her eyes. “Alyssa, when you’re ready. I will be here.”

  She looked deep into my eyes as if trying to hunt out the lie.

  I wanted her to believe, to understand. I kept eye contact. “I am not going anywhere.” I emphasised each word, hoping she would believe me.

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  I pressed my lips gently to hers again. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me when you are ready for me to come over.”

  She smiled. “Okay, Declan, and . . . thanks.”

  She threw herself into my arms and kissed me goodbye properly.

  I shot her a quick smile as we pulled apart. She stepped back and leaned against the washing machine for support. Her lips were twisted into a goofy smile and her eyes seemed to scream of the things she wanted to do.

  I knew the feeling.

  Breaking away from the spell of her gaze, I walked to the car on shaky legs. When I reached it, I checked that the seats and carpet were dry, and wound the windows up. There was a slight lingering smell, but if it moved Alyssa and me on to the next step, the cleaning bill would be a small sacrifice to make.

  “MUM, I’M home,” I called as I entered the house.

  “How’d it go?” she replied from the kitchen.

  “Good.” I walked up behind her. “Actually, no, not just good. Great.” I leaned against the kitchen bench, not willing to jump up and risk a repeat of the morning.

  “That’s good. Did you all have fun?”

  I laughed. Vomit, attitude, and McDonald’s weren’t really my idea of fun but it was a good night regardless.

  Mum turned slightly to look at me. “What happened to your shirt? That wasn’t the one you wore was it? It’s too big on you.”

  Nice, I thought. Of course she would notice that. “Phoebe got sick in the car.”

  “Oh no, is she all right?” The concern and love in her voice was evident.

  “Apparently she’ll be fine; she just had too much to drink.”

  Mum nodded.

  We lapsed into silence for a few minutes, the only noise being the sloshing of the dishwater as she washed up.

  “Are you still ’right to watch Phoebe on Saturday?” I asked, breaking the silence.

  “Definitely.”

  “And you really don’t mind?”

  “No, I really don’t mind. Why?”

  “Alyssa just said something about you not usually watching Phoebe on weekends.”

  She shrugged and the dishes in front of her were suddenly very interesting. “I guess I haven’t. I’ve never thought about it too much.”

  Her voice was a little too dismissive, her actions a little too blunt. She was lying.

  “Bullshit,” I said. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Declan, please! Watch your language,” she snapped. She grabbed a tea towel and dried her hands. She threw it onto the bench. “And I said there wasn’t a reason.”

  “Mum, cut the crap and tell me.”

  “Just leave it.” She stalked out of the kitchen.

  Half a minute later, I heard a door slam down the other end of the hall. I sat stunned for a few seconds. I tried to remember a time Mum had ever snapped like that before. There was more to this fucking situation than everyone was telling me. It made me more determined than ever to find out what it was but there was no fucking way I was going to walk into Mum and Dad’s room just then to find out. I didn’t know if Dad was home or not, and Mum was obviously in no mood to talk.

  I looked at the half-washed dishes and decided to try my best to finish them. I hadn’t been lying to Alyssa when I said I was clueless. Usually, I just ate with the team or grabbed something on the way home. I didn’t cook and I certainly didn’t clean. Like everything I didn’t want to do, I just paid people to do it for me. Just then though, I wanted to help Mum in whatever way I could. At least it would be one less thing for her to stress over later. I left the pots because I had no fucking clue how to clean them, but did the glasses and plates and left it all to air dry in the drainer beside the sink.

  After I’d finished, I locked up the front door and poured myself a glass of Dad’s whiskey, on the rocks. I took it to the bedroom and locked the door behind me. Then I spent the next little while reliving the memory of the things I’d done with Alyssa in London.

  CHAPTER EIGHT: JAMMED

  HAVING SLEPT THROUGH yet another uninterrupted night, I woke late on Thursday morning. I didn’t know what it was about being home, but I hadn’t slept so restfully for nearly four years. I was so used to the insomnia, the constant waking, and the nightmares, that it felt almost hedonistic to get so much sleep.

  In fact, it left me feeling fantastic and ready to face the world. I grabbed the empty glass that’d
held the whiskey from my bedside table and headed toward the kitchen. I was halfway down the hall when I heard Mum’s voice in a hushed whisper.

  “No, don’t worry. He won’t be here over the weekend. He’s got other plans.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks and listened to the one-sided conversation.

  “I know. It’ll be fine. In fact it’ll be nice spending some time with her.” Mum paused then said reassuringly, “Yeah, I’m sure.” Her voice dropped even lower. “Listen, I know it’s not my place but I’m glad you two are trying. You are good for him.” She gasped. “He didn’t.”

  I walked a little further so Mum could see me. Her eyes widened slightly with surprise and she abruptly said goodbye and hung up the phone.

  “Who was that?” I asked, trying to sound politely disinterested. I had a very strong suspicion I knew exactly who it was, but I wanted to see if Mum would lie about it.

  “It was just Alyssa,” she replied.

  “What, were you two getting your stories straight? Making sure you know exactly what to tell me?” All this secrets and lies bullshit was beginning to grate on my nerves.

  “It’s not like that,” she objected. “She just wanted to make sure I was okay to watch Phoebe.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I assessed her carefully. She clearly wasn’t going to give me any extra information even if I pushed hard on the issue. I shrugged. “Whatever.”

  I banged the glass on the bench, causing Mum to jump a little. She was definitely wound up. “A parcel arrived for you,” she said, no doubt to distract me. She pointed to a huge-arse box near the front door.

  Walking to the box she’d pointed out, I checked the sender’s address and smiled. Danny had come through for me, like he always did, but I couldn’t believe he’d paid for overnight freight on it. Then again, knowing Danny it would probably come off my next pay cheque.

  The sight of the parcel made me think about the team. The time off, reconnecting with Alyssa—even if we were still a little up in the air—it all felt fantastic, but I was also ready to go home. I was ready to return. In fact, with the newfound knowledge of Alyssa’s upcoming move, I was actually anxious to return to Sydney.