by Dee Palmer
“I wanted to know if Toxic told you what happened in the hammock?”
“You told me nothing happened in the hammock.” His voice holds no inflection, which is only noteworthy because his whole body just tensed beneath mine.
“Because nothing did.” Shifting so I can turn to face him, to reassure him with my eyes as I clarify. “We kissed, he almost bent double from the hips to not press his erection into me and then gave me another kiss on the forehead.”
“And?”
“And the kiss on the forehead felt like-” I hesitate and he’s quick to interrupt.
“Like?” The tension leaves his body before my brain picks out the appropriate analogy.
“Like he was kissing his mother.” I sit back and face the fields, deflated at the truth of what I felt at the time. Charge squeezes one arm around my waist and presses his lips to the top of my head, even chuckling as he is, I can still feel the raw heat pass between us.
“A hot cousin, maybe, what with the erection.”
“Charge, I’m being serious.”
“I know, so am I.” He places his cup on the floor, takes mine and does the same. Sitting upright, he lifts me up and waits until my feet hit the floor before turning me to face him. I drop back down to my bottom and arrange my legs around his midsection. His soft smile and tender touch to my cheek with his palm instantly soothe me. “He told me you kissed. He told me you still turn him on like crazy, but he said he felt different, and that the kiss felt too intimate all of a sudden.”
“He said that?” My voice catches. Not that I didn’t feel it, too, and this really isn’t a surprise, it’s just saying it out loud makes it somehow real.
“He’d tell you, too, if you asked, but yes. He said he felt more inclined to hug you than do anything sexual.”
“It was a really nice hug.”
“He said that, too. Are you okay?”
“Of course, yes…I guess. I mean I’m happy if he’s happy. I don’t want to force anything, or make him or any of them feel awkward.”
“It’s only awkward if no one talks about it, angel. We’ve always been open with each other. If there’re secrets, there’ll be problems, and no one wants that.”
“No, no secrets.” I let out a heavy sigh. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
“I know, angel, but I’m here, we’re all here for you, always.” He tips forward and kisses me, magically making everything better.
“So I guess that’s one down and two to go…I don’t mean go go.”
“I did get that, but I think you mean two down?”
“Two? What two? Oh, you mean Pink? Has he said something about Hope?”
“Did he have to? You’ve got eyes, angel. They’ve spent every day together since she got here. You’ve seen them together, right?”
My fingers rub at the knot of tension in my temple. He’s right, and I know I’ve had my head well and truly buried ignoring the ‘signs’. “‘Every day’ makes it sound intense, we only got back from the cabin yesterday.”
“And she’s spent more time with him than you, I believe.” It’s a statement rather than a query, and it aggravates my spidy senses.
”I’m won’t lie, Charge, I’m not entirely happy with his choice.”
“She’s your best friend.” He raises a brow to accompany the surprise in his tone.
“Which is why I’m not so happy. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but I know her, too, and although she’s been more like herself recently, I still feel there’s something not right. She’s hiding something.”
“Maybe she’s hiding her true feelings. You said yourself she’s never been in love, she might just be scared to acknowledge what she’s feeling,” he proffers, and I’m a little stunned at the insight which completely evaded me. Not that that should be surprising. I have a lot on my mind, and besides, Charge is a sensitive soul, a little like Pink in that respect.
“You think she’s in love with Pink?”
“I think she looks relaxed and happy, and they spend a lot of time together.”
“And he looks happy. I want him to be happy.” My smile falters with the genuine mix of emotions raging a storm inside me.
“But?”
“But it’s only been a few days.” I pluck an excuse that sounds the least like second thoughts on my part. I’m not sure I’m in any state to make that sound convincing just yet, and I would hate to sound insincere.
“How long does it take, Finn? I loved you the moment we met.” If these words didn’t floor me, the way his gaze penetrates my soul and seizes my heart in a tight fisted grip, is like a sucker punch to my chest. I don’t deny I felt the same; nevertheless, I have to shake the sense back into me. We’re not talking about us.
“We’d spoken daily for nearly three months before we met.” It sounds like a poor justification, and I hate that I’m the one being so negative.
“True, but it’s not like she’s a stranger he met in a bar, you have talked about her a fair bit and not always in the best light.”
“I’ve never lied, I just may have shared some of her escapades she probably thought I would keep private. In fairness, she most likely wouldn’t care and has told him all there is to know already.” I’m the worst best friend. My backtracking seems to amuse him, but he doesn’t comment. “Anyway, she’s the discloser. I’ve lost count of the times she’s made me blush since she arrived.”
“I love it when your skin pinks up.” His dark brow wiggles, and his tone drops with salacious intent. It makes my mouth run dry, and my thighs clench around him.
“There you go distracting me again.”
“It’s my job.” His large hands cup my backside, and he rolls my hips closer to the bulge growing rapidly between us.
“I think I need a girls’ night out.” I collapse onto his shoulder, gasping for air and clinging to his heaving body like the lifeline it is. My body is a limp noodle, and a satisfied smile is blazing across my face as I relish that sweet pulse of his thick cock inside me, my own muscles rippling with the aftershocks of a frantic and much-needed orgasm.
“Okay, a bit random, but sounds like a good idea.” He grins and then quickly narrows his stare before I’ve had the chance to avert my ‘tell-all-open-book’ eyes. “Wait, what’s that look for, Finn?”
“What look?” Shrugging and still firmly impaled on his still rock-hard cock, I try to lift myself free. His hands grip my hips, and he stares me down.
“That, ‘I have an evil plan and butter wouldn’t melt’ look.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Damnit, why can’t I lie? Not even a little white one.
“We can stay in here all day, angel, and I’ll tease the information out of you, if you prefer.” He juts his hips and grabs my arse cheeks. His cock swells a little more inside me, making my eyes roll.
“We’ll miss the cookout at the beach.” My argument is weak when accompanied by a teasing roll of my hips shamelessly grinding against him. A fresh slew of tingles dance across my skin where his fingers grip me, and I relish the instant build-up of pleasure deep inside.
“And I’ll enjoy every minute.” His firm grip halts my grind and my rising pleasure, making good on his teasing threat. I respond with a perfectly playful pout.
“You know that’s not really a deterrent, right?” His head drops back with a groan that sounds a good deal like agony. His eyes darken, and I know he can feel me squeeze his cock, because I can feel every thick inch of him respond.
“Tell me, angel, and I’ll let you come.” I can’t move against his hold, and as good as this feels, I need movement. I need friction. I need him.
“Mmm.” I shake my head, not really wanting to give in just yet, even if I can feel desire pull at my core and electricity spark and crackle at the base of my spine.
“Tell me,” he commands, and I’m about to shake my head once more, when with lightning speed and the agility of a big cat, he shifts us both, rolls, pins my hands by my shoulders, and p
ulls out of me. Noooo! The heat from his body washes mine, and wanton lust colours my vision. The weight of his cock mocks me, resting just at my entrance, and with my legs spread wide by his, there’s not a thing I can do. Even begging is not going to get me what I want.
“Fine, I want to test Hope,” I huff and tighten my lips flat with displeasure and would cross my arms like a brat if I could. He pushes the tip of his cock inside me, and I suddenly feel less like a brat and more like a rat about to spill every little detail, because this feels so, so good. “She’s a huge flirt, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her turn down a super hot one-night stand, so…”
“So?” He lunges hard, and I see bright shards of light flash behind my lids. My body thrums with anticipation, knowing that the body-rocking explosions and crashing waves are just a few delicious strokes away.
“Oh, god, Charge, please do that again.” He pulls right out to the tip and waits. Damn, this man has control issues. He raises a brow and just waits.
“If she’s serious about Pink, she won’t fool around.” Thank you, god! He slams back inside again and again, and if he’s speaking at all, I don’t hear a word. The blissful high makes it hard to hear anything above the blood rushing in my ears, my heart pounding, and the deep gravelly grunts he’s breathing against my mouth.
He threads his fingers through mine and lifts our joined hands to his mouth, kissing the fingertips. We’ve managed to keep our clothes on for a full ten minutes while we both freshen up and head downstairs. He’s stopped just at the top of the landing and has a serious look of concern on his face.
“You really think testing Hope is a good idea?” he asks. He didn’t say anything after I told him my plan. I thought it might’ve been a timing thing, as we were both a little distracted. I could see it troubled him. It’s still troubling him.
“I’m not going to set anything up, Charge. I’m not forcing a situation; I’m just checking to see if she really has changed her spots or if the hot California sun has just bleached them invisible temporarily.”
“I think you’re playing with fire,” he warns, and I understand his concern. I’m not a fan of meddling in other people’s lives, but this isn’t other people.
“It’s important, Charge, I love Hope, but I love Pink too. I won’t see him hurt by someone I’ve let into his life. I’m feeling responsible and have to be sure before it’s serious.”
“You think it’s not already?”
“That’s what I need to find out.”
One Month Ago
JØRGEN JOINS ME AT THE bottom of the sweeping split staircase, and with a wolfish grin, motions for me to continue with the tour. I’m starting to get a niggling feeling this is maybe more of a game to him. Not that I don’t love a little cat and mouse with the opposite sex, but I have more than just a roof over my head at stake.
“I think I need to make myself clear, Mr. Jensen.”
“Oh, we’re back to Mr. Jensen, are we?” He tilts his head playfully, poking at my niggle with a cattle prod.
“Since this is a business conversation, I think it best.” My clipped response causes his dark brow to rise, but other than that, his face is smugly impassive. Mentally counting to ten, I squeeze my fists tight and keep them at my side. I have to physically stop myself from decking him and his very significant upper hand. I meet his intense eye contact and even find myself rising on my toes to even up the height difference a little before I continue. “I need that signature today, Mr. Jensen. I hope that isn’t going to be a problem? I’d hate to think you were playing with me, because as much as that idea is—”
“Is what, Ms Williams?” The deep gravelly intonation of his interruption makes the hairs on my neck spring to life. Oh, shit! Moisture evaporates in my mouth and heads in a decidedly southerly direction. I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat. Rocking back to my own height, I stealthily step out of his very personal space.
“That idea is irrelevant,” I state emphatically. “Do you have the final part of the contract or not? I was very explicit when I confirmed this little unnecessary excursion with your PA that—”
“I have the documents. They are in my briefcase in your car.” His smooth, assertive declaration feels as good as strong hands working the ever-present knots of tension from my muscles. I feel lighter before he even finishes the sentence.
“Good. Right. Shall we?” I flash the first genuinely relaxed smile I’ve felt in what seems like a lifetime of worry, and he sends an even brighter one right back at me. Lord, that man has a killer smile.
“Please, after you.”
“And the pièce de résistance, the final part of the tour, is this…the ballroom.” I push the enormous double doors wide and stand to the side to give Jørgen an unobstructed view of Greycoat Manor’s grandest room. It’s magnificent, or at least it will be. It’s dusk now, so there is no sunlight streaming in through the eight full-height massive Georgian windows. The wooden floor is worn and patchy, but it’s original and good enough quality, it will polish up really well. The three gargantuan chandeliers go some way to filling the cavernous room and are in surprisingly good repair. Every part of the house needs some serious tender loving care, but the foundations are sound, and everything else is cosmetic. And that’s what my mum and I are good at, cosmetics.
My cheeks ache with the stretch of pride in my smile. I adore this place. “What do you think?”
“I can see why you need my money.” His eyes widen, comically so. A mix of playfulness and realism purse his lips and lighten the tone of his comment.
“It’s a sound investment, and you wouldn’t be wasting your time if you didn’t think so.”
“Wouldn’t I?” He steps in front of me, a little too close, and I’m mesmerised by his magnetic aura and intensity. My feet won’t move back, and it takes all my strength to fight the pull. This is such a bad idea. He tips his body forward, and I arch backward, shaking my head and mumbling words that hold no conviction.
“Flattery might work on…wait, what was that? Did you hear that?” There’s the muffled shuffling sound coming from the far end of the ballroom, behind one of the doors that leads directly into the kitchens.
“No, I didn’t hear anything.”
I press my finger to his lips, only to snatch it back when his lips smile, warm and firm against me. The shock of contact is like a bolt of energy, and I’m momentarily stunned immobile. There’s another noise, and we both look over to the far wall. He nods his head, having heard it this time, and stepping around him, I make my way silently across the room.
Easing the door to the kitchen open, my eyes adjust to the darker room but see nothing unusual. His hand rests on my shoulder, halting me from proceeding further into the room. He steps in front of me, and before he can take another step I grab his arm and point.
“What?” His whispered breath washes a sweet mint aroma across my cheek, and if I didn’t have adrenaline mainlining to my heart, I might savour the tingle his closeness ignites.
“There’s a light on in the pantry. See, under the door.”
“So someone must have left it on.”
“There is no light in there. The electrics are shot to shit in this end of the manor.” I’m trying to keep calm but fear, panic, and blind rage are rocking up a storm inside me. “Oh, shit, did you see that? There’s someone in there!” Moving shadows beneath the door light the touch paper inside me, and I lurch forward to race across the room.
“Wait here!” This time he captures my hand and secures me to the spot with a firm momentum-stopping jolt. Tugging me close to his side, he towers over me and stares me down or tries to. His dark serious scowl would have the desired effect, I’m sure, if I didn’t have tunnel vision for whoever has broken in.
“Fuck that, Jørgen. This is my place, and whoever that is, has no right to be here.” We’re both managing to keep our voices hushed. Nevertheless, I’m surprised I sound so calm and that I’ve kept the cursing to a minimum.
“Hope
!” He calls out through gritted teeth when I yank my hand free of his hold. “Please, you have no idea who’s in there!”
“Scared?” Goading as I edge closer, he bites his lip and with a determined look that sends a shiver the length of my spine, he is instantly on my heels. His front is close against my back, and there’s a small gap of sizzling heat between us. When he speaks, his voice drops an octave.
“Not scared, Hope. I’m resolute.”
“Wait, Jørgen. Shit!” I’m confused by the comment because he strides across the remaining length of the flagstone floor in front of me, loud footsteps echoing in the silence of the cavernous room, until he stops at the far end of the kitchen. I’m right behind him. My chest is pounding with fear and maybe a little something that is wholly inappropriate for this situation, still Jørgen looks fierce, lethal…and so fucking hot. He pulls the pantry door wide, and I scream. A blur of blinding light hits my face, and I get a fraction of a glimpse of the man inside. He’s big, enormous, built like a brick shit house, and he comes barging out of the room like a bull out of the gate, and I’m the red flag in his way. There’s a lung-crushing moment of painful contact and then a feeling of lightness, as I’m sent flying backwards. The base of my spine crunches with the strength of the impact when I hit the floor, and pain ricochets through my body. My defences kick in, and I pass out.
I’m dazed and can feel heavy hands creeping up my legs to my tummy. My eyes spring open when fat fingers squeeze my breasts, trying to mould them into one painful boob mountain. Strange, I figured Jørgen would have more finesse, being in line for the Danish throne and all, but what do I really know about blue bloods? The room is almost pitch dark. Even so, it doesn’t even take a fraction of a second to realise the ape straddling me isn’t Jørgen.