I can’t pretend anymore that there’s nothing between us. After he came to my rescue that first night, I barely stopped thinking about him until he showed up the next morning in his Porsche. And now, thanks to him, my days are spent in the most idyllic little cottage, and the moments when I’m not actively writing are spent gazing out of the window, wondering where he is, what time he’ll be home, if he’ll look up at my window and wave.
Despite the fact that he’s gone out of his way to come and check on me whenever I’ve seen him in passing, and the fact that I’m sure he’s occasionally found himself on his porch on purpose when I’m near the window, and the way he’s looking at me with hunger in his eyes, I still find it hard to believe. Hard to believe that a handsome, smart, filthy rich man fifteen years older than me could be interested in a curvy girl who hasn’t even had a proper job yet. Not that I ever want what most people would call a proper job, but you know what I mean.
I feel nervous energy ripple up my spine and tingle all over the back of my head when I realize what I’m about to say, but I still don’t stop myself.
“Or we could just strip,” I say. My throat is tight so it comes out as a strangled sort of whisper.
Lucas doesn’t seem to notice.
He is on my in a heartbeat, his lips crashing into mine as his hand wraps around the beer bottle in mine and pulls it free from my grip.
“I was hoping you’d say that, little bird,” he says, and the way he instantly takes charge is a siren song to some lascivious, primal part of me I never knew existed.
His lips are soft but demanding, and I suddenly understand how it’s possible to “lead” a dance in a way I never have before. He places his hands under my ass and lifts me so I can perch on the end of the table. My legs automatically open and he moves forward between them, holding the back of my neck and kissing me deeply, his other hand exploring my body as though he’s been waiting for me his whole life.
I can feel his breath hot beside my ear. He slides his hand up my thigh, his thumb running up and down, tantalisingly close to my panties.
“I’ll never let you go if we do this,” he whispers. I can hear the strain in his voice, like he’s expending all his effort to restrain himself.
I reach down in a move bolder than any I’ve ever made, and slide my fingers over his thumb before pulling my panties aside. I kiss him harder, suckling on his tongue, and the groan he releases leaves me smugly satisfied. I grin against his mouth.
“Oh, you like playing games?” he asks, pulling back. He has a wicked glee in his eyes as he looks down at me, his gaze scanning my face, taking everything in.
He slides his thumb suddenly into my already-slick core, and I gasp. My face contorts with an open-mouthed pleasure frown, and it’s his turn to grin.
“Good girl,” he says.
I place my hands behind me and lean back, and I feel his hand leave my neck a second before I hear the sound of his zipper.
I can’t see him from the angle I’m at, but I have to know what he’s like. I bring my hand forward and reach down between us, then open my eyes and look up to him with surprise when I feel his length in my hand, hard and thick and heavy. He sucks in a gasp when my hand closes around him,I watch his face as I slowly stroke him, and he continues to run his thumb up and down over my most sensitive little bud.
“I’ll have to go and get a condom,” he tells me, in hurried whispers between kisses.
“Don’t,” I whisper.
“You don’t want to?” he asks, and all of his touching and kissing stops abruptly.
“I do,” I say, pulling his hand back between my legs and his head back toward me. “I do. But no barriers. I don’t want anything between us.”
He catches on to what I say instantly, and my last syllable tails off into a moan as he lines up and presses his hips forward, stopping whenever I gasp to give me chance to get used to the sheer size of him.
For the next few hours he makes me feel things I didn’t know I could feel, and by the time I fall asleep in his arms I am certain this is the place I want to call home.
Chapter Five
Lucas
I wake up the next morning with a smile on my face and stretch out in my king size bed. When I don’t feel Wren beside me, my smile vanishes and I sit up, frowning. We had the most incredible night last night, and the most mindblowing sex I’ve ever had. She has this knockout body, and every movement we made together felt so natural, like the gods had carved us out of flesh so we’d fit perfectly together. So why is she gone?
I rub my face and reach for my phone, and my question is immediately answered.
SMS: Morning, sexy. Gone into town to sort out some business (getting back my rent money). See you later.
I smile and hit the screen to exit the message. And I see there’s another from a minute later.
SMS: P.S. I took a bagel and some coffee from your kitchen. Hope OK.
“Of course it is,” I say out loud. Every part of my mind is already thinking of it as “our” kitchen, anyway, so why would I object to her doing whatever she wanted with it?
I hit back, and see a third message, from three minutes after the second.
SMS: P.P.S. Last night was great. We should do it again.
By the time I’ve stretched and got out of bed, I have the biggest, goofy grin on my face. The fourth message, which arrives as I’m spreading cream cheese on my own bagel, makes me laugh out loud.
SMS: P.P.S.S. (or maybe P.P.P.S?) I wasn’t sure how to lock the game room door (we left it open!) so I just pulled it across. Okay no more messages. Are you even up? Bye!
I scroll through her series of messages a few times as I eat my breakfast, then hit reply.
SMS: Can’t reply. Someone has stolen all valuables due to unlocked door. Am now pauper.
I imagine her smiling when she gets it, and we message back and forth for a while before I have to get showered and head into the shop, and she has to head to her lawyer’s office.
When I’m finally dressed and ready, I grab my phone and keys and hop into the Porsche. The drive to Brookshore town center is somehow different to usual, as though the colours in the world are a little brighter, or the sun is a little warmer. I wave to the few people that I know as I pass them. Brookshore isn’t the tiniest town, but I’ve lived here my whole life and the few of us that made a killing from crypto became sort of renowned around here.
“Hey, Andy,” I say, slowing to a stop beside the young man who works for me as he heads out of the shop. I haven’t seen him for a couple of months because his wife just had a baby and he’s been on paternity leave—something I’m always insistent my employees take full advantage of. “How’s it going, man?”
“Lucas! It’s great, man. So cool. Looking forward to coming back next month, but man it’s great to have this time together, you know?”
I don’t know. But I hope I will someday soon, now that I’ve met Wren.
“Awesome,” I say. And then I notice Wren across the main street, talking to some dude around the same age as her. He’s tall and skinny with tattoos all over his scrawny arms, and his head is shaved on one side. I don’t like the way he’s looming over her.