by JC Harroway
I scrub a hand over my stubbled face and glance around the freezing, dingy hallway, which is decorated with linoleum that dates back to the seventies. My shoulders lift until they practically touch my ears. ‘Shouldn’t you be more safety conscious?’ I can’t help myself. That she lives here, in what looks like a tiny, one-bed, ground-floor flat, physically pains me. It’s not the dodgiest end of London, but neither is it the palace she deserves.
She crosses her arms over her chest and the robe slides open a fraction. ‘I have a spyhole—I saw you.’
That fraction, that sliver of creamy thigh, is all I need to send my pulse and blood pressure through the top of my head.
A bad fucking idea. Don’t go inside. Say what you have to say and get the fuck away from her.
She lifts her chin. ‘Are there any other reprimands, Lieutenant, or are we done?’
When I stay silent but also stay frozen in the doorway, she sighs. ‘Why don’t you come in so we can do this without my neighbours listening?’ She opens the door and, like an idiot, I step inside, taking in the flat in one swoop.
It’s minuscule but clean and homely. Kenzie has clearly given it a once-over, imprinting her style on the space with some art on the walls, coordinated cushions on the couch and soft lighting coming from several lamps. The tiny kitchen resembles a workspace, with equipment lining the bench and utensil racks on the walls. Something smells delicious—my stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten dinner. But the way my gut twists and turns, food is the last thing I want.
‘Do you want a drink? I was just having one.’ She points to an open bottle of red on the coffee table. I drag in a calming breath. She looks tired, her eyes a little haunted. Because of the kiss? Have my actions reopened her grief?
I shake my head, wound too tight by the memories of her mouth on mine to tempt fate. My inhibitions are low enough. Despite the speech I’m about to deliver, I want to peel open the silky robe separating me from what I’m sure is nirvana, lay her back on the couch and plunge my tongue inside her and then suck on her clit until all I can think, taste and feel is Kenzie.
‘I’ve come to apologise. I won’t be staying long enough for a drink.’ Certainly not long enough for the stuff-of-dreams couch scenario...
Kenzie rounds those eyes on me and takes a generous sip of her wine. ‘For what?’ She stares over the rim and then her tongue catches the wine on her bottom lip.
I swallow, my balls rising up, ready for action. ‘For what happened this morning—it won’t happen again.’
But fuck, I’m not sorry.
If that was my one taste, I’ll take it, happy to pay the price for eternity. My only regret is that I might have caused her pain by betraying Sam’s memory.
Instead of sitting, she takes another slow swallow while she watches me, her lips parted and stained red. I want to kiss them so bad, taste her again, lick the wine from her mouth and then explore every inch of her hiding under the robe.
‘Okay.’
Okay...? No accusations? No demands? No slap in the face?
She places her glass on the table and skirts me, giving me a wide berth. I keep my distance, swivelling on the spot to watch her path while my scalp prickles.
She opens the door and leans her hip on the edge. ‘So you don’t want a drink and you’ve apologised. I guess all that remains is to say goodbye. See you around some time.’ Sparks glitter in her eyes. Challenge and provocation.
Yes. Time to leave. But like this...?
She’s still angry with me. I’m half tempted to call her bluff and leave with a polite nod. That’s exactly what I should do...
‘I know you’re angry and you have every right—I shouldn’t have touched you.’
‘I’m not angry, Drake.’ Her voice is glacial. ‘I get it. You think you crossed a line. You think you took advantage of me—’
‘Didn’t I?’ Breathing actually hurts. Doesn’t she sense the danger, see what a terrible...fucking awesome...idea this is?
She rolls her eyes. ‘Don’t be stupid. I’m not a child.’ Her stare blazes, all woman.
Some sort of poltergeist has control of my vocal cords. ‘Were you looking for a relationship? Because I don’t do that.’
Not with you, and you don’t want that from me.
She laughs, the sound hollow. ‘Don’t tell me what I’m looking for and don’t flatter yourself. Perhaps I was lonely for physical contact. Perhaps the new me chose to seize the day. Perhaps I just wanted sex. No empty words. No promises. Just to feel wanted again. But if it’s not going to work for you...’ she shrugs ‘...no hard feelings.’ She glances out into the gloomy hallway while the seconds beat shock waves through my brain.
‘My door is still open.’ Her lips part, her chest rising and falling.
‘Are you baiting me?’ I step closer, my temperature soaring and my control fraying. She’s too close. Her warm, womanly scent a potent aphrodisiac.
She shakes her head, her hair sliding over her delicate shoulders. ‘Not baiting. But what else is there to say?’ She sucks in air, her breasts shifting under the silk. Then she releases a breathy sigh I want to swallow up. ‘No one has touched me in a sexual way for a very long time, Drake. I’m not sorry about kissing you. In fact, I want more. I want it all.’
I practically swallow my own tongue. Throughout her speech I’ve grown increasingly hard. Now my dick is ready to burst through the zip of my trousers.
I slide my eyes over her bare, shapely legs poking from the bottom of the robe. Damn, even her feet are sexy, her toenails painted blue to match the robe.
‘This isn’t a good idea. You know this isn’t a good idea. Too much shared history.’ Too complicated. Too forbidden. I’ve already taken this further than I should. I try to recall my prepared speech and plan... Nope, not a single fucking word...
She shrugs. ‘Maybe not. But it doesn’t have to be complicated. Just temporary. I know you won’t hurt me.’
She’s right—I won’t cause her any more pain than I already have by making her a widow. But if only the rest were true. If only I could give her what she wants. Act on my attraction, without consequences. I curl my hands into fists, torn between the need burning in Kenzie’s eyes and the escape of the cold, empty foyer beyond her door.
I should take the escape route.
I’m two steps away from doing the decent thing. The self-preserving thing. But my feet may as well be encased in concrete.
I want more... It doesn’t have to be complicated... Just temporary.
Fuck, I want to shackle myself, not flee.
I look at the woman I once knew only from a self-imposed distance, forcing myself to look closely. Her hungry eyes boldly hold mine, her pulse flutters in her neck and her breaths practically pant in her chest. She’s excited, perhaps even sharing the near-combustible desire turning my resolve to ash. One thing is clear—she knows exactly what she wants. I was a fool to forget she has steel running through her skeleton.
I suck in air, dragging my mind from the erotic scenarios involving Kenzie naked and me meeting all of her needs until neither of us can walk and try to imagine what it’s been like for her these past three years. Try to put myself in her shoes. Could I have survived without sex for so long? I snort. Stupid fucking question.
‘Look, I’m a big girl.’ She lifts her chin. ‘If you’re not interested, just say so. I can take it.’
Not interested...? If I weren’t focussed on keeping my heart beating, I’d laugh. She won’t wait for ever. And there’ll be a queue of willing candidates around the block. With a roll of my guts, I recall the look on Rod’s face when he talked about her earlier. She’s a beautiful woman. She’s kind and funny and caring. The whole package. A keeper for some lucky bastard. But if she’s ready to be intimate with someone again, fuck if I want it to be with anyone but me.
My voice emerges, strang
led. ‘This isn’t a good idea.’
She shrugs, but the stakes, the longing, are written all over her beautiful face. ‘You said that. Look, I’m not asking for anything more than sex, one time, two... Clearly my body has decided it’s time to cast off celibacy.’ She swallows, her eyes darting away. She has no need to feel embarrassed. That she’s chasing what she wants makes her twice as tempting. Another show of her strength—making herself vulnerable, admitting she has needs that aren’t being met because of circumstance.
Because of me. Because I let Sam down. I let her down.
She looks directly at me. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you, or persuade you—’
‘Fucking right you don’t have to persuade me.’ I’m practically drooling. Only fear of making this mess worse keeps my feet still.
She continues as if I haven’t spoken. ‘It would just be good to get past what feels like a hurdle with someone I know... To get my confidence back without having to expose myself to fifty bad dates with strangers.’
Of course, if not with me she might rush into this with the wrong man.
‘Perhaps then, one day, I could think seriously about...dating again.’ She pins me with a stare that lets me know she’s deadly serious, determination that pulses heat through my engorged cock.
‘I’m twenty-eight, Drake. I’m not a nun.’
No, more’s the pity. Fuck, this woman tests me to the limit, always has, even when the conversation between us has been about the weather and included Sam. But now...talking about sex...with the taste of her kiss still fresh in my mouth and the memory of her sexy little moans in my head as I teased that hard nipple and stroked her heated centre through her jeans...
She may not be a nun, but I’m sure as shit no saint either.
Still, restraint tightens my muscles.
I move in front of her, placing my hand above hers on the open door and holding her eye contact. ‘You’re sure you want this?’ The words release a torrent of endorphins. I’m so close. But the stakes are a slap of reality.
‘There’s no margin for error here. If we cross this line we do it together, eyes wide open.’ I have so much regret where she’s concerned, I don’t need another layer of guilt that I somehow duped her or took advantage.
She nods, a shuddering breath lifting her perfect breasts into my peripheral vision, although I keep my eyes glued to hers, needing to be certain I’m seeing the truth, and not just what I badly want to see.
‘No feelings...’ I can’t risk more than sex, not that she’d ever want more from me. But I can give her this, can’t I? I can lock down everything else and enjoy a tiny part of what I’ve craved as long as I’ve known this astounding woman. I should feel euphoric that I’m seconds away from finally exploring something I’ve fought long and hard to deny, but need steals all my oxygen.
‘Just temporary,’ she says, her hand sliding from the door, releasing it to my decision.
I swing my arm back, the sound of the door clicking closed both exhilarating and a seal to our shared fate. Because seconds after that click registers she’s in my arms, her mouth frantic on mine and her hands tangled in my hair.
This kiss makes a mockery of our first, because this time I anticipate the elation that pounds through me the minute our lips connect. I shelve doubt and embrace every second.
I swivel us around, pressing her into the back of the closed door, and crush my aching dick between our bodies so I can slake some of the need eating me alive.
I grind into her, my mouth picking up where we left off this morning. Kissing Kenzie is everything. Kissing her the way I’ve done in my imagination over and over again almost buckles my knees.
She takes what she needs, her tongue meeting mine, her hands roughly angling my head so we can plunder deeper and her body writhing against me like she’s trying to simultaneously stimulate every nerve in her body.
Reality is so much better than fantasy.
And then I groan, because the heat from between her legs registers against my thigh, burning through the fabric of my trousers like molten metal. She’s scorching hot and damp enough to leave a wet patch and I fucking love that I’ve done that to her. Love that she’s ready for me. Love that she was standing here getting turned on just by my presence, even as she showed me the door.
I pull my mouth away, rearing back from the tight hold she has on my hair. ‘You’re sure, Kenz? Tell me.’ There can’t be any doubt. She’s too precious to me to fuck around. If I could stop dry-humping her for one second I’d get her to sign a contract. But I can give her this—great sex. Drag my mind away from the betrayal, from the secrets trapped inside me and simply be what she, this brave, ballsy woman, needs right now.
‘Yes... Drake...’ She nods, as if she’s too overcome to utter another sound, but it’s all the encouragement I need. How long have I yearned to hear her speak my name with passion, longing, almost delirium? How many times have I dreamed of rendering her incoherent? How many nights have I lain awake, wondering what it’s like to touch her, to hold her, to make her come?
I kiss her again, lifting her bare arse and wrapping her legs around my waist so I can align our bodies more effectively. She cries out and her heat covers my dick, adding to the delicious friction that’s shunting towards unbearable levels with every grind. If I don’t get some skin-on-skin soon, I might start ripping at fabric...
I nibble on her lip and kiss along her jaw until my nose is buried in her hair, where the scent of apples is strongest. I suck the delicate skin of her neck into my mouth, making her back arch and her hips buck into mine, writhing on me with a wildness I’ve felt a million times in my dreams, and her noises...
Fuck, her mewls and sighs as she takes what she wants, takes what she needs from me, make my balls boil until I have to ease back to control the delirious attention my dick is receiving.
I take a second’s reprieve from simply enjoying every fantastic second to wonder at the location of the nearest condom.
Then the icy deluge covers me, head to toe.
Shit.
I have nothing.
I was so adamant I wasn’t going to touch her, I’ve sabotaged the best moment of my life.
I rest my forehead against hers, stilling the movement of my hips and sucking in calming breaths while I try to rein this back a thousand notches. ‘I didn’t bring any condoms.’
I want to cut out my own tongue. What a fucking idiot. Tomorrow I’ll buy a jumbo box and stash two in the pocket of every pair of trousers I own. No, make it three. Damn, I’ll scatter them like confetti...
Kenzie sobers enough to look up at me with lust-filled eyes. And then she grins, her neck flushing. ‘I have some. I bought them on the way home from work...just in case.’
My heart soars into my throat. ‘You did?’ She’s been thinking about this? All day? Our minds are aligned. But where I tried to talk myself out of this, she prepared.
Wonderful woman.
She nods and I cover her mouth again, hitching her arse higher so I can nudge open her robe with my face and get my mouth around one of those tasty nipples. I can’t contain the groan that leaves me at the sight of her naked breast—it’s too much. But I’m quickly swamped by the taste of her skin and the hard bud on my tongue and the way her cries fracture as I press it between my flattened tongue and the back of my top teeth.
I press closer. Even if I were a contortionist, I couldn’t get enough contact for satisfaction. I hoist her higher. Couch or the bedroom?
I release her nipple, chuckling at her wail of outrage, and slide my mouth over the curve of her breast. Her skin is baby-soft, her scent a shot of heroin to my neurotransmitters. I kiss and lick and suck my way across her chest and back towards the heaven of her mouth. Then I hoist her around my waist and carry her towards the bedroom.
The flat is so small we’re there in three or four strides—perfe
ct. I’ve reached my limit of impatience where Kenzie is concerned. I lay her down on the bed, loosen the belt around her waist and peel the robe open so I can see her perfection laid out before me.
Time stutters to a halt. She’s wondrous—her nakedness surpassing my imagination a millionfold.
‘Drake...?’ She must interpret my sudden stillness as hesitation.
‘I’m looking.’ That’s when I spy the mark I’ve left behind on her breast—redness from the scrape of my facial hair and a purplish bruise at its centre. Fuck, a hickey...? The primal roar in my head warns me how badly I want this. Want her.
I close my eyes, the sight of my possession on her skin too much.
When I open my eyes I trace the bruise with a fingertip. ‘I’m sorry. I marked you.’ The Neanderthal in me isn’t one bit sorry. In fact, he’s running a victory lap around the stadium wearing a shit-eating grin while his loincloth flaps in the breeze...
She looks down, her pupils dilating as if she, too, likes the sight of my possession. ‘Good.’
I shrug off my jacket and loosen my tie, my eyes still gorging. How did I get so lucky? My throat closes—a good thing because I want to say a whole lot more. I could wax lyrical all day on the visual feast laid out on the bed. I bite my cheek and unbutton my shirt. Tossing it on the floor, I allow my stare to linger on the pink, pouty lips between her legs. I undo my belt and the button of my trousers, slip off my shoes and drop to my knees.
She raises her head off the bed and peers down at me, her face breathtakingly vulnerable, eyes wide with questions. Hesitations.
I slide my hands up her thighs, too impatient to get my mouth on her but needing to savour every second of this. If this is my one time with her, I need to make it count. To make it good for her. To force every touch, every sound, every taste into my long-term memory for all of eternity.
I breathe through my nose, sucking in her womanly scent, the best aphrodisiac known to man.
She props herself up on her elbows, covers my hand with hers, guiding me to cup her breast. Our hands slide in unison over the perfect curve. ‘Touch me,’ she whispers. ‘Feels so good.’