Long Time Coming

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Carnal Passions Presents

Long Time Coming By Scarlett Parrish

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This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Carnal Passions A Division of Champagne Books www.carnalpassions.com Copyright © 2010 by Scarlett Parrish ISBN 9781926681818 May 2010 Cover Art © Amanda Kelsey Produced in Canada

Carnal Passions #35069-4604 37 ST SW Calgary, AB T3E 7C7 Canada

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Dedication To Lori – this book is entirely your fault. I hope you’re proud of yourself!

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One The empty bedroom inspired nothing but relief when I peeked around the door. While I’d showered, Andrew Kincaid had left the building, possible confrontation too much for him. A floorboard in the living room creaked, the television sparked to life and my heart sank. No such luck. He didn’t like me dropping clothes on the bedroom floor so that was exactly where I left my dressing gown while pulling on my oldest pyjamas. The hairline crack running across my bedroom ceiling winked at me again, a constant companion during times of distress. As now, bracing myself to go confront Andrew. Or as half an hour ago, when he’d coerced me into trying to mend the emotional cracks in our relationship with something a bit more physical. Mend or paper over them, the effect was the same. I’d asked, requested, told him to stop and his assurance was as empty as his once-adorable smile, familiarity having blurred it to an irritating smirk. "I know what I’m doing." He got off while I theorized that sex would be much less complicated and much more fun if emotions weren't involved. I’d wriggled away from him and his inevitable disapproval. "Oh come on, Piper." His weight had shifted behind me as I sat up and the hand on my bare back wrought a shudder rather than a shiver of attraction. "You should have told me you weren’t in the mood if you felt this bad about it." Two people were needed for a disconnect to exist but 5

his passivity made it entirely my fault. He’d gifted me the blame in quiet words, wrapped in a ribbon of subtle accusation. Even my intention to shower was another false step. "Going to wash me off you?" I hadn’t looked back, let the running water mask my out-loud assurances that I was just tired, my words as empty as Andrew’s. Though now walking into the living room with arms crossed over my chest was a tad more confrontational than necessary, the discarded dressing gown had given me a taste for rebellion. "Andrew." Now dressed in jeans and tee-shirt, he lounged on my settee, channel surfing my television with my remote control. He sighed so heavily the sound morphed into a groan. "Do we have to talk about this now?" "You acknowledge there’s something to talk about, then?" I didn’t expect to hold his attention for long no matter what I did but that damn television with its talk show audience whooping and cheering stopped me thinking straight. "Can you at least turn the sound off?" A petulant finger stabbed at the mute button but a groan marred the ensuing silence. "Fine, fine." "I’m not boring you am I?" He inclined his head, shrugged. "I thought it was the other way round. I hardly got a response out of you earlier." "You...? Oh, I see. Because I can’t be bothered pretending any more..." I doubted uncrossing my arms would dilute the aggression in my words but did it anyway. "Listen, I—" "Piper." He rose and neared me in menacing slow motion, still clutching the remote control, the sight of which made me shiver. Our last fight had concluded with him throwing it across the room, not at me thankfully, and I’d carried out emergency surgery on the casing with masking tape to keep the battery cover on. "Whatever’s wrong we can deal with this, but not now, eh? It’s late. I’m too tired to listen to you fretting—" "This is how you deal with someone who has serious concerns?" "I honestly think you’re stressing out too much. All we 6

need to do is ride this out, spend a bit more time together. I’ve been working so hard—" That one deserved the derisory snort I gave it. "What’s the point if you never want to listen to anything I have to say?" "Never? Don’t be so absolutist about this, Pipes. I do listen to you." He patted me on the shoulder with just the right level of condescension and control to make me want to scream. "When you have something to say." "I..." Shock trapped the words in my throat. A desire for clarification forced them through. "I beg your pardon?" Andrew’s hand on my shoulder contracted at the exact moment his jaw set. A thin-lipped, deeply pissed off Andrew Kincaid was a sight to behold. I’d had the headaches, sleepless nights and broken remote controls to prove it. He looked me up and down by just moving his narrowed eyes, not his head, and this icy control may have reassured others but chilled me. Andrew only stored up control to lose it. "We can do this another time." And he stood back. "That’s very kind of you. But if I persist, will you throw the remote control again?" "Oh, for fuck’s sake!" He threw his hands in the air and turned his back. "How the hell are we supposed to talk about the non-existent problems in this relationship when you’re in this sort of mood? Honestly, Pipes, if you just chilled out once in a while—" His hat trick made me tune out. One, his reaction proved the problems weren’t non-existent. Two, he’d called me Pipes again and three, he’d pushed the ‘chill out’ button, using one of the most irritating phrases known to man. "No, Andrew," I said, and he stopped mid-sentence, and faced me again. "No we can’t. We either talk about this properly or..." The slow, dawning realization that I didn’t want to do this another time iced my blood. The outcome would be the same then as now. "Or what?" He scowled. Sighing, I looked out of the window. Street lamps and other people’s electrical lights twinkled and I didn’t want to be here with Andrew. I wanted to be out there with them, whoever they were. Meeting new people rather than being smothered by an old acquaintance. 7

"There’s no need for us to analyze everything," he said. "You never want to analyze anything, that’s the trouble." "Pipes—" "For Pete’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?" "How many times do I have to tell you not to pick a fight?" "I am not trying to pick a fight. I’m trying to make you see that this relationship is going nowhere. Neither of us is getting anything out of it, at least I'm not and—" "Oh, so that’s the bottom line is it?" "Yes. Yes, it is. I try to talk to you, you don’t listen. What’s the point in trying to get through to you?" Andrew paused before speaking, looking away from me as he shook his head, his every gesture shrouded in disapproval. Though eye contact made me feel scrutinized, his need to look away from me too was an insult. "Have you any idea, any idea at all, how selfish that makes you?" "Let me get this straight. You’re accusing me of being selfish because I object to you ignoring my thoughts and feelings?" "Piper. What is wrong with you tonight?" If I reacted, he’d accuse me of being pre-menstrual. If I failed to react, I’d be stuck gritting my teeth in fury at my own impotence. "I’m trying to tell you how I feel and somehow that gets twisted round to me being selfish. I have opinions on how two people should act which don’t match up with yours, so—" "Oh for fuck’s sake!" He tossed the remote onto the settee and grabbed my shoulders. "Not this again. Pipes. Piper. When are you going to realize, there’s nothing wrong here but—" "Look, just get off me." Whether I pushed him away or pulled back, somehow I struggled free. But he remained sure-footed and scowling. "Jesus, Andrew. Who do you think you are, shaking me like that?" "You call that shaking? That’s nothing." "You know what? You’re right." I waved away his thinly-veiled threat, his unspoken I am capable of so much 8

more than this. "There’s nothing to fix." And I couldn’t bring myself to care. He nodded, smiling, only with his mouth, his eyes grave-cold. "Because there’s nothing there at all. Not any more. I’m tired of this, Andrew. I’m tired of trying to get along with someone I no longer even like." "I beg your pardon? Now just wait a fucking minute—" He moved to grab my arm again, I dodged but he wouldn’t be denied. Pulling me against him, his fingers dug in tightly enough to make bruising in the morning a certainty. "You don’t listen to my concerns, you’re selfish with our time together, we always have to do what you want to do..." When you want to do it. "Hell, we stay in so much these days I’ve forgotten what fresh air smells like...and every time I try to raise the..." Breathlessness arrested this stream of accusations. I hadn’t even known I’d been storing them up but there they were, taking the first opportunity to escape. The realization that this was all too much work had unlocked the door. I can’t be bothered and here are the reasons why. "Look, will you get off me? Every time I try to raise the subject you...I’m sick of this. I want out. I—" As soon as his hand came up I yelped, turned my face away, waited for the sting, but it never came. Held breath flamed in my lungs, and an age passed before I dared exhale, a gasp bursting out of me. Okay, Andrew. This is where you apologize. This is where you say you can’t believe you almost— He tutted. A sneer of disdain wrinkled his nose and I almost wished I hadn’t found the courage to face him again, had kept my eyes averted. "You’re not worth it. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, Pipes." "Well." I blinked, trying to process what I’d heard. "It won’t be you ever again, that’s for sure." The hand that had nearly slapped me balled into a fist by his side. He caught me looking at it and flexed his fingers. "Perhaps we should both sleep on this." Oh God, what if he expects to sleep here, what if, what if— He grabbed his jacket off the back of the armchair. At first I wondered if he took my long exhalation as a sigh of 9

relief but that’s exactly what it was, a breathy release of tension unknotting my neck and shoulders. His raised hand had shaken me so much because with it came the very real threat of physical chastisement rather than mere mental distress. "I’ll be off then." Andrew hovered in the doorway, zipping up his jacket. "I’ll call you." Think, Piper. Think. This is where you say something. "Yeah. ‘Bye." "Don’t worry about me, I’ll see myself out." He shook his head slowly, nothing more than a twitch and I wanted him and his contempt out of my home. The front door slammed and once its echo died, I ran to put the chain on and turn the key in the lock, securing myself indoors with Andrew very definitely out. Panting with exertion or nerves or excitement or relief, I stood in the centre of my living room clutching my mobile phone, not knowing who to call but needing human contact with someone who wouldn’t lose his temper or raise his hands to me. "Matthias." As soon as the word was out it seemed obvious. Of course. Matthias.

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Two The following week, drowning my sorrows wasn’t on the agenda; ridding myself of the world’s first migraine in human form was no cause for sorrow. Neither was the whole episode cause for celebration, but meeting my favorite man and a friend for a drink or several seemed like a good way to pass the time. Cole’s, one of our favorite bars, was too upmarket, too clean to be called a pub. Its small dance floor with DJ booth in one corner usually attracted a different set from the creaky, floor-boarded watering hole clientele a generation ahead of us. Math and I—and special guest—would start here and see where the mood took us. Most likely to a watering hole with creaky floorboards. I winked at the doorman as I walked past, barely catching my breath before the man himself trotted down the steps linking the sunken foyer to the main body of Cole’s. "Piper!" He grinned, holding his arms wide in his customary ‘gimme a hug’ gesture. "How’s it going?" He looked down, holding a crooked finger under my chin. "Never better." "Really?" He frowned, leaned back. "Are you sure?" "Yes, I’m sure, Matthias Holt, so don’t come over all big brother on me. When have I ever lied to you? Well, that you know of, that is?" Matthias cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. "I’m not sure I want either of us to answer that question." "And I’m not sure what you just accused me of." "Being impulsive, maybe. Now come on, let’s go get 11

some alcohol." I linked arms with him as we climbed the steps. "But tell me." I had to raise my voice considerably as the loud dance music confronted us. "Where’s that gorgeous friend of yours?" He raised an eyebrow as he studied me. "Piper..." "What? What? I’m only asking." "You’ve been single five minutes and already you’re on the prowl." "Over a week, actually and you know I’ve always liked Gray." "You’re incorrigible." "Couldn’t you have a word with him on my behalf?" "Sod off!" he barked with a burst of laughter. "I’m not your pimp. You can do your own dirty work." My brother looked impossibly mischievous as he spoke and I well understood how he was able to acquire a long line of admirers both male and female with that twinkle in his eye. As far as I knew he’d only ever acted on overtures from women but there’d always been enough of those to keep him occupied. "Damn it, why can’t you have ugly friends? It’d make it a lot easier for me to handle." "Because they’d make me look bad, darling. I only hang out with lookers. Anything else would ruin my mojo." Matthias elbowed his way through the crowd and headed for the bar. I merely followed. "So where exactly is Gray anyway? You did say he’d be here. Does he know I’m coming?" "He does. He also knows you’re single again." A huge grin. Sometimes I really, really love my brother. "It’s how I explained your imminent arrival. Said you’d just finished with your boyfriend—" "Nice touch. So he won’t feel guilty about taking advantage of a recently dumped woman." "—and you’d be joining us for a few drinks tonight." "Matthias, you’re so much more than a pimp." "I prefer to call it facilitator." "I hope you were subtle." "Naturally. I merely mentioned that you’d recently 12

ended things with Andrew. Anything beyond that? I’m staying out of it. Come on, he said he’d be somewhere at the bar. I told him to get the drinks." "Matthias, you’re an officer and a gentleman." "No I’m not. I’m just your big brother and I haven’t got a clue why I put up with you. Please, Piper. Go easy on him. He’s my friend." "Gray, hi!" I’d seen his eyes widen as I approached and hoped it was admiration. I hadn’t dressed up for him especially. I always made an effort when I went out at the weekend but knowing one of my brother’s many gorgeous friends would be here tonight made it easier to justify taking so long to straighten my hair and do my makeup. I wore a tight black vest, my most helpful push-up bra and a couple of strings of beads to draw attention to my cleavage. The height of my heels brought me to exactly the right level for Gray to grab himself an eyeful without too much neckcraning. "Piper!" He touched my arm as he leaned forward to kiss my cheek. "What are you having?" Looking him in the eye, I paused. "There’s a loaded question. I’ll stick to vodka and Red Bull. For now." He cleared his throat and his gaze flitted from me to Matthias and back again. Obviously concerned about my brother cock-blocking him. "Uh, Matthias mentioned the, uh, Andrew situation." Gray looked tentative, searching my face for any signs of upset. "Andrew who?" I laughed. "Don’t worry. I’m not upset, I’m relieved. So yes, it’s out in the open, we’ve split, big deal, it was a long time coming, overdue, blah, blah, blah. I’m just glad it’s done." "So you’re okay with it?" His fingers tapped the bar, perhaps nervously and the rhythm of his fingers held my attention for slightly longer than was polite. "You don’t have to tiptoe around me. I think we were both halfway out of the relationship before it blew up. Prepared. I tried talking to him, he didn’t listen. What can you do? Hadn’t you better try to get the barman’s attention?" There was a beat before he turned back to the bar and did as I’d suggested. Matthias stood at my shoulder with a 13

knowing smirk. I frowned in query, but all he did was wink. At least I had my brother’s blessing whatever happened. "Go easy on him, sis," Matthias 'whispered' in my ear. 'Whispered' in the context of the background noise; outside his voice would be a shout. "You’ll scare him." "Math, it’s not me he’s scared of. It’s you. He’s scared of your reaction." "Like it’s anything to do with me." "He probably thinks you’ll leap in and try to defend my honor." I couldn’t hear the sound above the background music but his expression told me Matthias snorted in derision. He leaned in close and shout-whispered, "As if you have any honor left to defend." ~*~ Teetering on the brink of artificial confidence brought about by one too many drinks, I figured it was time to stop or at least slow down. "Are you two going on to a club?" Gray’s question cleared my head in an instant. I wasn’t sure if it was his proximity, or my anticipation of my brother’s reply which was the chief cause of my skin prickling. I looked across the table at Matthias, who sat beside Gray, to gauge his reaction. We now sat in a booth of Gallagher’s, an out-of-the-way Irish-themed pub. Irishthemed in that it had bare floorboards and pushed the Guinness when patrons went to the bar although they’d bowed to local pressure and started stocking beer and vodka too. The music was quieter in here. Clichéd though it was, three guys sat at one end of the room playing a bodhran, a violin and an acoustic guitar; background music, not aural assault, making conversation not only possible but easy. I’d held back from Gray all evening, sensing a nervousness arcing back and forth, neither of us confessing to being its source but both sharing the job of maintaining it. "I’m happy to go along with whatever you two guys decide." I glared at Matthias, hoping he got the message. Hoping Gray didn’t notice. 14

I excused myself, leaving the two of them to figure something out. Thankfully I’d always been talented when it came to walking and even running in high heels, for which I sent up a silent prayer of thanks given the occasional perilous gaps in the floorboards. I killed a few minutes in the ladies’ scrutinizing my reflection for signs of drunken sluttery. Eyeliner: smudged, but that was inevitable, and a good look. A narrow black line looked too perfect. As the night wore on and it smudged across my top lid and just below my bottom lashes, it looked more smoky. Come hither. As I toddled back out, Matthias headed towards me. Impeccable timing. Fake-steadying myself on his arm I knew he would know I’d accosted him for a quick word. "Well?" He yawned and patted his mouth. "I’m very tired, Piper. I think I’ll go home and have an early night." "Oh that’s a shame." I couldn’t help but smile. "Are you absolutely sure?" "Definitely. Perhaps I’m getting too old for this nightclub nonsense. I should leave it to you young ‘uns." He was, at twenty-eight, only four years older than I and one older than Gray. "But please remember he’s my friend. I want him back in one piece," he whispered, leaning in so noone else heard. "And may God help him." He straightened again. "Right. I’m just going to answer a call of nature and I’ll be right back." "Yeah, see ya." I winked as he exited, owing him one for this. "Hey, Gray." I plumped myself down in the booth next to him. I’d avoided him all evening, it was about time we exchanged a few words. "What’s happening then?" "Did Matthias catch you? He’s probably not gonna go on to a club." "Oh." I forced my mouth into a pout. "He’s probably tired. Never mind." I patted Gray’s thigh and let my hand rest for a split second longer than necessary. A barely perceptible squeeze and I lifted my hand back into my own lap. He cleared his throat, looking down at my lap and the hand which had just touched him. Gotcha. "I’m happy to stay out if you are," I said, finally 15

looking him in the eye. "Unless...? The night is still young and all that, but it depends on whether you want to stay out and go clubbing with a girl." I raised my eyebrows. "Won’t Matthias mind?" His gaze flitted across the room, watchful of my brother’s return. "I shouldn’t think so. We could ask him if you’d like? He certainly wouldn’t mind if we stayed out late." "It’s not the lateness of the hour that concerns me. Don’t you remember...?" "Of course I remember. I don’t understand why that should be Math’s business, to be honest." "His friend? And his sister? Surely he would mind if knew something even as innocent as a kiss had happened between us?" "Gray. There was nothing innocent about that kiss." It had lasted for twenty minutes at one of Math’s house parties, in a bedroom with the door locked and both of us undisturbed but not coming up for air. "If you want to stay out, I’m happy enough to stay out with you. That’s if you...?" I willed him to read my thoughts, my unasked question. "Do I mind you staying out? Hell no." "I wondered if perhaps you wanted a boys’ night thing. Mind you, if Math’s going home you’ll need some company. Unless you’d rather go do your own thing." I looked around as I spoke, searching the crowd for the re-emergence of my brother, looking away from Gray so he wouldn’t be on the spot. "No, no. It’s all right by me. More than all right. Honestly." He smiled when I looked back at him and something in his eyes told me he spoke honestly. "If you’re sure it’s okay with—" "Gray. Stop fretting about my brother. He’s not my chaperon. He doesn’t need to warn you off me. If it makes you feel any easier, though, I’ll check with him before he jumps in a taxi home and we go elsewhere." "I was just double checking." His shoulders dropped as he leaned back. He stretched his legs as far as they would go under the rickety wooden table, releasing some of their tension and let out a long, slow, heavy breath. "Hey kids!" Matthias emerged from the crowd like a mist gradually made material. "You don’t mind if I cut away 16

early do you? I’m a bit tired for staying out till three in the morning dancing. Maybe I should try cocaine..." "Funny, that was what Gray was just talking about," I said, and felt a jolt to the ankle where the man in question had tapped it with his foot. I glanced at him then back up at my brother, who hadn’t sat down. "Not coke. I mean, he was concerned you might think we were abandoning you by staying out while you called a halt to your evening." "Good God no! If anything it’s the other way round. I was concerned you’d think I was abandoning you. Really. It’s cool. Don’t worry about it." Another glance from Matthias to Gray and back again told me the evening was sorted. Everyone was cool with everyone else and had he fully understood our sibling dynamic, Gray would have recognized the blessing implicit in Math’s words, body language and mindset. God love him and his liberal sexuality. "You go enjoy yourselves," he added and silently I told him all right, all right, no need to overegg the pudding. "I’m gonna grab a cab." The three of us wound our way through the mob; we’d been extremely lucky to find seating, let alone an entire booth, so crowded was Gallagher’s. The fresh air hit me like cold water in the face when we stepped outside; I gasped at the momentary lightheadedness it caused and pulled on my jacket. "You all right?" Gray murmured at my side. "We’ll get you inside soon if you’re cold." "I’ll be all right if we keep walking." "Should have worn more clothes then, shouldn’t you? Tart. I’m ashamed to call you my sister." It was obvious Matthias was joking but the look on Gray’s face was a picture. "Shouldn’t you be all protective of your sister, mate?" he ventured. "Instead of calling her morals into question?" "You know as well as I do that a discussion of Piper’s morals would be a short one—" "All right, all right, enough of that. Sometimes," I added, turning to Gray, "I wish he was the sort of brother to stick up for me. Not often, though. Just when I wonder what it would be like for him to show a bit of respect." 17

Matthias, with his hands thrust deep into his jeans pockets and shoulders hunched against the breeze, nudged me with his elbow. "I’m your big brother; it’s my job to take the piss. What else could I do? Pull your pigtails?" "I’m wearing a jacket after all and you’re still not happy?" "Yeah. Just keep yourself covered. Wouldn’t want to scare the locals, would we? Hey, there’s one!" A taxi with its lights on spun round, did a probably illegal one eighty and drew to a halt feet away from where Matthias stood on the curb. "Righto, kiddies, that’s me off," he said, leaping forward to grab the taxi door before anyone else stole his ride. "Behave yourselves." He sniggered under his breath but I still heard. Once he had the door open and the cab was claimed as his, he deemed it safe to turn back to us. He and Gray did that half-slap, half-handshake thing guys do and muttered something which sounded like "Later." When it was my turn he gave me a full-on hug, making sure his head was against the ear on the opposite side from Gray so he could whisper, "Go easy on him." He drew back and winked. "Have a good time, you two." He climbed into the cab and I just had time to shout, "Remember to text me when you get home!" before he pulled the door shut behind him. Seconds later the cab pulled out and my brother left. "Text me when you get home?" Gray echoed in the quiet following Math’s exit, raising his eyebrows. "What? I’m concerned for his safety." "Text me when you get home?" Now the coast was clear and we had no chaperon breathing down our necks (as if), I linked arms with him as we strolled along the street. "So I’m used to going out on the town with my girlfriends. It’s an automatic thing we do for safety and I forgot I was talking to my brother for a moment." "Matthias became an honorary girl?" "You could say that. My brother, the honorary woman." He laughed quietly. "Listen, I usually go to Nocturne. Unless you’d rather go somewhere else?" 18

"I haven’t been there for a while, actually. The last time was with Holly and Laura, I think." I looked at Gray, frowning against the coolness of the breeze and tried to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind my ear but it didn’t behave. As if it were planned, we stopped at the same moment; perhaps I’d sensed something in his muscle tension as we linked arms. He reached over and tucked the strand behind my ear for me, paused, looked into my eyes and lowered his hand. The last time he’d touched me in such an intimate way had been a while back. "I’m glad you came out tonight," he said. "And stayed out." Excitement swelled in the pit of my stomach, rushed up my chest and made my heart pound. "I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to. All that nonsense with Matthias and so on. I thought perhaps you thought I was..." I paused, bit my lip. "Thought you were what?" "I’m not sure how to put it. Intruding on your boys’ night out? Shoving myself in where I wasn’t wanted? I suggested meeting Math for a drink and when he said he planned to come out with you tonight I started to say oh never mind then, but he jumped in, said you wouldn’t mind." "I didn’t. Don’t, in fact." A momentary smile touched his lips. I clapped my hands together, wrung them to get the blood circulating again. "But I’m here now so you just have to put up with me. Come on, let’s get indoors. Thank God Nocturne’s close by. I hope there isn’t a queue." "Ah, that’s where my queue buster tickets come in." He reached into one of his jacket pockets and pulled out a small card, handed it to me. "I always carry spares in case I have a companion." "Ah ha!" Eyeing the card, I was unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. "Where did you get these?" "Picked them up in one of the pubs we were in earlier; there was a promotions guy handing them out. So we, dear Piper, get to waltz straight in out of the cold." "Gray, you’re a star." Instinctively I kissed his cheek. Because I wore heels I wobbled a bit and his arm slipped around my waist to steady me. He grinned when I asked, "However can I repay you?" 19

"I think you know the answer to that one." "Yes, I do. I’m going to give you what every young man wants." His eyebrows shot up. "The opportunity to buy me a drink of course. Why, what did you think I meant?" ~*~ Gray reached one of the payment booths before me. "Two, please." When I balanced my handbag on the ledge and unzipped it he told me not to worry. He’d take care of it. "Are you sure?" I asked and he assured me that yes, he’d pay. We headed upstairs to the cloakroom by which time I had my purse ready; he may have been a gentleman in paying my admittance but there was no way I was going to let him think I planned to sponge off him all night. "No, you paid us in. I insist. I’m not having you think you’re only here to dish out cash. I’m not like that. Now. Jacket. Off." He had an amused twitch to his lips as he capitulated, removing his wallet from his jacket and slipping it into his jeans before placing his jacket on the counter. "Who am I to argue when a lady tells me to disrobe?" Yes, if there was any doubt, we were definitely flirting now. While I paid for our cloakroom tickets and handed Gray his, I took a few seconds to calm myself. We were in a nightclub; nothing was going to happen here beyond some overt flirting and getting to know each other again. Climbing yet more stairs was like approaching a wall of sound. Once through the final set of swing doors the pounding hit us like a right hook, a shock to the system and Gray slipped his arm round my waist again, drawing me close. He guided me through the crowds and with a raised voice right in my ear, asked, "What are you having?" "Depends what’s available," I shouted back. Difficult to be flirtatious when I had to yell at someone; it worked better when I spoke quietly and was demure. "Let’s just get to the bar first and see what’s there." We fought our way through the melee to reach it, skirting the dance floor in the R&B room. People lined the walls, grouped together around the seating area and 20

traversing the dance floor itself would have been impossible. "I’ll just have a bottle of Miller," I said—shouted— when we reached our destination. It took a while for either of us to get the barman’s attention but when Gray did, he insisted on paying. "Cheers," I said, saluting him with my bottle. "Better not drink this too fast; I’ll get drunk." "Maybe you should have stuck to alcopops. You know what they say; never mix grape and grain." "Oh, you would have to mention my liking for those things, wouldn’t you? It’s my not-so-secret shame. I do have some class you know." I could have sworn he looked me up and down before suggesting, "Shall we go find a seat somewhere? It’s unlikely in a place this packed, but…?" "Sure." The only lights came from the D.J’s. platform and those behind the bar. Occasionally someone’s mobile phone flashed as they took a snap of their mates’ drunken antics but even those lights were dimmed by occasional puffs from the smoke machine. I barely heard myself think above the pounding of the bass line but there was something primeval in it. "Let’s look over here." I turned to head in the direction in which I’d gestured and Gray’s hand took hold of mine. He probably didn’t want to be separated in such a crowded place. We found a space big enough for the pair of us in a corner of the R&B room; huge cubed cushions against one part of the wall were the only seating available and thanks to other revelers occupying the rest of this area we had to sit close together, to conserve space. Gray’s lips moved but I didn’t catch what he’d said so I indicated that he should repeat himself. "I said, I’ve always liked you, you know." My ear was close to his mouth so even if a random flash of light bouncing off the bar mirrors had illuminated us he wouldn’t have seen the widening of my eyes in alarm. Or arousal. I hadn’t expected him to come out with it like that, so matter-of-factly. I glanced at him, watched his mouth move, distracted, had to lean in again for him to repeat himself. "I thought you knew." 21

"I had an idea," I said up close, close enough to lick the skin at the side of his neck if I so chose. "I didn’t say anything while you were with Andrew because, well, you were with Andrew." Gray gave a halflaugh, chugged back a sizeable amount from his beer bottle. "And you’re one of my brother’s best friends." "Yeah, there’s that too." "I’ll always be Math’s sister but Andrew’s no longer on the scene." It was only a tiny white lie. A few text messages didn’t count as proper communication, especially if they were all one way. I hadn’t responded to any of Andrew’s overtures. I’d been too angry. "Are you really okay with that?" His right hand curled into a gentle fist and with one extended finger he stroked my knee; I wore jeans so couldn’t feel a thing through the thick fabric but the sight of him touching my clothing was enough to send a jolt of excitement through my leg. "I just wanted to make sure." "Make sure I know what I’m doing?" I teased. He glanced away and if the lighting had been favorable, I would have seen him blush, I reckoned. "Anyway...how do you know I didn’t end up going out with Andrew simply because it hadn’t gone anywhere with you?" "I got cold feet at the time." I tried to speak. Bottled it. Turned away and took another sip of Miller. There was something I wanted to ask for the good of my own ego, although I did genuinely like Gray. A combination of curiosity and pride drove me. "Piper?" He leaned in close and his breath ruffled a strand of my hair. When I turned to face him his lips were mere inches from mine and I couldn’t take my eyes off them. He was clean shaven but with a hint of a shadow across his top lip, his chin and across his cheekbones. He looked like the type of man who needed to shave twice a day. Instinctively I reached up and ran a thumb over his bottom lip; his lips parted and I jerked back, nervous. Not of the spark between us. I think I was reluctant to get too carried away in a public place. Talking was enough. Flirting. But the touching; the hand on my knee, my thumb on his mouth, it led up to something and there was only so much sexual tension two people could cultivate before something had to 22

give and self-control left the building. "If we hadn’t been in my brother’s house," I began, swallowing the lump in my throat, "what do you think would have happened?" The same lips I’d longed to touch, to force apart with my thumb a moment before curved into the merest hint of a smile. He licked his lips with the tip of his tongue. "I think we both know it wouldn’t have stopped at kissing." This was the Gray Bradford I liked. The one who wasn’t concerned about other people’s opinions of him and me getting together. The one who was flirtatious, confident about referring to our childish necking session at my brother’s house that could have led to so much more and didn’t. The one who finally, finally admitted that yes, we did fancy each other. The one who agreed something was going to happen between us tonight. "It’s just a shame it took us this long to get around to it," he added, and a shudder of lust rippled my spine when he put his hand on the small of my back. "I don’t think we’re going to be staying here long, are we?"

23

Three Wriggling around in the back seat, I dug my hand into my jeans pocket to fish out a note as the taxi driver pulled up outside my block. Gray frowned as I extracted it but I shook my head, no. I would pay for the ride home. He’d already spent enough on drinks tonight and admittance to the nightclub. It wouldn’t be fair to let him shell out for the taxi home as well. "Keep the change," I muttered and opened my door without looking back at Gray, sure he would follow. The cab screeched and sped off into the night as I crossed the road and stepped onto the pavement. I stopped, turned back to check on Gray and he was right behind me, staring. "Right behind you," he said with a wink. "Shall we...?" He glanced up at my window, already familiar with my address. He’d been to my flat on a number of occasions but not for some time now. We had some catching up to do. He tried to take my hand as we trotted up the steps to my tenement’s main door but I lifted it away to use the intercom key. So he slipped a hand under the hem of my jacket, rested it on the small of my back. We were both here and knew why and he had to touch me. We hadn’t so much as kissed all evening, not even in the nightclub. It was as if we had an unspoken agreement; once we started, it would be a case of light the blue touchpaper and stand well back, so best to save anything beyond light physical contact for the safety and privacy of my flat. I lived on the top floor and though the block wasn’t huge—only three storeys—the now-mountainous climb to 24

privacy irritated me. The only contact Gray made all the way up the stairs was that hand on my back but even then it was difficult to contain myself. He didn’t say a word. Neither of us did. It wasn’t as if I’d never done this sort of thing before. Just never with Gray. The words darted through my brain and made me, just for a split second, lose my breath. That was the key. Never with Gray. Willing my hands not to shake, I unlocked the door and Gray shadowed me as I stepped across the threshold. I moved to one side, not properly entering the house. "I need to lock the door behind you," I said. "It doesn’t lock if you close it; you need the key." "Oh." He stood at my shoulder, not moving an inch away. "I thought you just wanted to lock me in." His hand stroked my belly and my stomach flipped over. Oh God, I want you so much. "That too." The voice which came out of my mouth was different to the one in my head. More confident, self-assured. Less jittery. Less desperate. The word shocked me. Desperate. Was I really? As I leaned forward to lock my front door and slip the chain back on I realized, yes, I was. Desperate for him to enact the images which had plagued me ever since Matthias left and Gray and I had agreed without speaking that this was going to happen. I’d had flashes of him kissing me, touching my bare skin, being inside me and now it was so close to happening I could hardly bear to wait another second. The only thing to hold me back was the threat of losing my dignity. If his actions signaled he felt the same rampant desperation, though, it was likely I’d lose it. Tear his clothes off. While I saw to the door, his hand continued to stroke my belly through my vest and his fingers grazed the underside of my breast. I closed my eyes, exhaled oh-soslowly and tried to calm down. Failed. I dropped the key and we both stooped to retrieve it. "I can’t see it—" "Don’t worry, I’ll get it." I was more familiar with the 25

surroundings. I lived here. And I just wanted Gray to stand up again. In the darkness, with his breath on me, I was liable to pull him onto the carpet and do him on my hall floor. Then again...as he stood, and I crouched in front of him, groping for my front door key, other thoughts clouded my mind. When my right hand finally grasped the key, it was with relief I picked it up, slipped it into my handbag and stood. "Shall I put the light on?" "If you know where you’re going, I’ll just grab hold of you and follow on," Gray said with laughter in his voice. What to do, what to do? I asked myself. Kitchen, for a cup of coffee, keep things civilized? Or just cut to the chase? Bedroom? Hell, we both know why we’re here. "I know what you’re thinking," he whispered. "You can put the kettle on later. For now, I think..." "You read my mind." "I did." He brushed my hair aside with one hand and leaned in to whisper against my ear. "And I’m utterly disgusted at what you’re thinking. You’re a very, very naughty girl." In the darkness of my windowless hallway, my hand found his, and gripped it. His mouth stayed against my earlobe, my neck. "Can’t think what took me so long." Concern about my brother. The fact I’d been with Andrew for months. Lack of confirmation that I felt the same, that our fumbling, groping kiss held the promise of something more? Leading him to the bedroom, my steps were confident compared to his stumbling ones. Sure, he’d been in my house, knew where the bedroom was, but this would be the first time he’d entered that room with a purpose beyond nosing around someone else’s new place at a housewarming. I tossed my handbag onto my bedside table in the dark while Gray hovered at the door. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, enabling me to see nothing more than his outline. "Aren’t you going to close the door?" I asked, and he did so, jerking himself into life. After pushing the door shut he moved over to me, 26

shrugged his jacket off and let it drop to the floor with a thud. We faced each other for a second, breathed each other in, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Even though I still wore my heels, he was taller than me so I tilted my head up and waited for him to kiss me but he didn’t. Not yet. He put his hands on my chest, slid them up to my collarbone and pushed my jacket off my shoulders. I mirrored his earlier movement and shrugged it to the floor as his lips drew closer to mine. "Now, where were we," he murmured. His bottom lip, which had so fascinated me earlier while we sat in Nocturne, grazed mine, a barely-there kiss, nothing more than physical contact as light as a feather. I held on to his belt with both hands, pulled him in closer and his kisses grew more insistent. We tasted each other, just with lips, no tongues and it drove me crazy. I wanted him to take the lead, prove how much he wanted me. Maybe he was just making me wait. Torturing me. I drew back to catch my breath and as my eyes grew accustomed to the dark I made out his jaw line, the shape of his lips, the way part of his fringe fell over his eyes. "What is it?" he whispered and I wondered why he spoke so quietly. Darkness did that to some people, made them covert, devious or secretive. "Just looking." "I thought you were planning something." I remembered what it had felt like before and wanted his tongue in my mouth again. And to show him how much, I lifted my hands to his neck, guided him down to me. Even as his tongue slid into my mouth and I lost myself in his kiss, my hands still registered brushing over his tiny hoop earring, the curve of the back of his neck, the faint stubble along his jaw. His hands wandered up my back, though still above the fabric of my vest and tugged it up, catching it on the cheap beads I wore. Again we broke. He panted as I hauled the beads off and dropped them somewhere in the vicinity of the bedside table. I thought I’d missed, didn’t much care if they ended up on the floor. And he pulled my vest up, too impatient to wait for me 27

to undress, in a hurry to get me naked. I fumbled at his shirt buttons and somehow within seconds my vest came off, as did his shirt, and we fell back onto the bed. I kicked off my shoes, he did the same and tugged off his socks and I had to bite my lip when I hear one of the sexiest sounds I’d ever encountered. The jangle of his belt buckle immediately preceding the hiss of his zipper. My hand went to his waist and he tried to kiss me but I pulled away, even as my hand worked its way below his waistband. "What...?" he asked in confusion. The desperate longing in his voice only served to turn me on more. "I want to kiss you." "And I want to hear the way your breathing changes when I touch you here," I said, pulling his shorts out of the way to release his erection and running the back of my hand along the underside of his cock. He sucked in a breath, sharply, and his groin jerked up. "God. Jesus." Stroking him at the base, my hand curled around him lightly, not gripping, not going near the tip. "God, Piper..." he groaned into the air. "What the hell...?" "Don’t you like it?" I lifted my hand away. "Are you kidding? I...Lie down next to me. Properly." With one arm across my hips and the other curled up on the pillow beneath his head, he pulled me closer. He lapped at me with his tongue, distractedly sliding it across mine as I ran my palm over the ridges of his cock, from base to tip. He groaned, even growled, and the hand lying on my waist crept up my back and pulled me in. He rocked against me and whispered between kisses, "Piper... oh God, Piper..." My name in whispers was enough to make my skin prickle. It had never been like this with Andrew. Or perhaps my memory played tricks on me. I tightened my grip and Gray gasped. "I could stop if you like." "Don’t you dare." I did, just to see what he would do and he grabbed my 28

hand, forced it onto his cock again. "I told you, don’t you dare stop." His breath came in shallow gasps. Every time I paused, he looked at me, or said, "Don’t. Stop." I slowed my stroke, became gentler and stared at him, wondering what might have been back then. Not that there was any point. Time had passed, I’d met someone else... "Jesus, Piper. Christ, I can’t think straight when you touch me like that." Gray gripped my arm, forced it down, held it in place and thrust himself forward. His face was so close to mine his breaths warmed my mouth. He didn’t kiss me but held back, biting his lip. "Piper?" "Mmm?" There was enough moonlight for me to see his cock as I ran my hand over its surface lightly. God, he was gorgeous. If I had to wait much longer to have him inside me I’d go crazy. "I could have kicked myself that night for stopping it. Jesus. A bit tighter." He let go of my hand, arched his back, strained against my grip. "Okay, stop." The way he said it convinced me he wasn’t joking. I let go, held my hand in midair for a few seconds and lay it across his chest. "What?" "I don’t want to come too soon." His chest rose and fell even as his heart rate slowed. I gave him time to recover, waited for him to speak again. "Tonight...you looked so...happy. You looked so happy to be alive." I lowered my lips to his chest, flicked his nipple with the tip of my tongue. He wriggled, so I did it again. I looked up at him and his gaze met mine. At least, I assumed so. Everything was bathed in a murky dimness. Outlines visible without too much detail. "I don’t know what took me so long. But now I’ve got you right where I want you." "I rather think it’s me who’s got you right where I want you," I said with a laugh, and my hand went to his cock again, more aggressively this time, and Gray sucked in his breath. His back arched, shoulders digging in to the mattress and he thrust himself at me in obvious desperation. He reached over to me, to stroke the back of my hand as I 29

stroked him, guiding me, and sighed into the darkness, not saying another word. Just his breathing was erotic enough for me; who needed words? He rolled onto his side and the sensation of his skin against mine distracted me. The hand he’d used to guide mine moved up my body and cupped one breast outside the fabric of my bra and I jerked forward, wanting more of his skin on my skin. Gray paused, his face less than an inch from mine as we lay on my pillows, staring at each other with nothing but the moonlight to illuminate the room. His hot breath wafted across my mouth and my lips parted, ready for his kiss but he moved down my body, kissing his way along my jaw line, down my neck, which he knew I loved, and along my collarbone. His thumb worked its way inside my bra and flicked a nipple. I think I cried out, made some sort of noise, a groan maybe. Gray’s lips closed around it and sucked gently, just enough to pull the breath from my body and a guttural moan from the back of my throat. I let go of his cock, used that hand to brace myself against the mattress so I could push against his mouth and all too soon grew even more impatient, ran my fingers through his hair, grasping the back of his head as tightly as I could and held him there. He stopped, propped himself up on one elbow and did nothing more than look down at my skin, tracing a path across my chest with occasional kisses and flicks of his tongue. I wriggled under his touch, desperate to be naked, for him to be inside me. Fiddling with the clasp, I undid my bra and dropped it over the side of the bed. "I wanted to do that." "You were taking too long." He huffed against my neck, a barely-perceptible laugh under his breath. "Well, I don’t want to rush it, but damn, I’m having a hard time controlling myself here." "So don’t." Lying down, I tried to shrug and managed to twitch my shoulders. I paused before going for his waistband. "You really need to get these off, Gray." In one swift movement which shocked me with its 30

grace, he sat up with his legs over the side of the bed and shuffled out of his jeans and shorts. I watched, mesmerized by the way the moonlight played on his upper arm muscles. The only thing that could improve that look is a tattoo, I thought, wondering why Gray had never got himself inked. Most guys of his age whom I knew—my brother included— had some sort of mark on their bodies. "Piper?" His head turned. He’d noticed my stillness. Shaking myself out of it, I ran a hand down his arm, from his well-defined shoulder muscles to the back of his hand. "Just watching." "Your turn." He lay back down beside me, started fiddling with the button on my jeans, laughing helplessly when he failed to undo it. "Not as slick as I like to think I am, eh?" "Gray. I’ll do it. You should... in the top drawer." A momentary pause before he spoke. "Oh." He turned away, the drawer slid open and he groped around while I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and slid out of them, naked in seconds. Normally I liked to undress and be undressed by a man but not now, not when there was only one thing on my mind. Foil tore and Gray tutted, muttering as he fiddled with the condom. "There," he said once he’d rolled it into place. "Thank God," he added in a whisper, turning to me. His hand slid up my thigh and between my legs but I pushed it away, and hooked my leg around his to make it clear I didn’t want to waste any more time with foreplay. Groaning, he pushed inside me and let out a throaty growl as he rolled me onto my back. I gasped soundlessly as he slid all the way in, meeting with some resistance as he’d barely touched me until that moment but I didn’t care; I’d wanted him inside me and now he was. He stopped and whispered, his mouth against my ear, his fringe tickling my shoulder, "Are you okay?" Giving no reply, I hooked my ankles together behind his back, this time gasping out loud. The sensation of being forced open, full up, was addictive. I wanted more, didn’t want this ever to stop, no matter how jarring it was when he first moved inside me. 31

"Piper." Gray placed his hands on either side of my head, entangled his fingers in my hair and held me still as he spoke. "Are you okay?" I nodded, but he asked it again, wanted a vocal reply. I was scared that if I attempted to speak I’d be capable of little more than a gasp. "Yeah. Yes," I added. Good. I’d managed to say something coherent. His hips ground into mine, once, at the exact moment the tip of his tongue parted my lips and his kiss drew another gasp from me. He stopped, paused, did it again and my insides turned to liquid. "I love the noise you make when I move inside you. I love being inside you." Another kiss. No tongues, just his lips on mine. "God, you’ve no idea." He buried his head in the curve of my shoulder, shuddered, and took a deep breath. "Tell me what it feels like." I unhooked my ankles, drew my legs up the sides of his body and slid my hands down his back, scratching, and he groaned. Gray lifted his head, propped himself up on his forearms and leaned in so his face was less than an inch from mine. "Tell you what it feels like? To be inside you?" Few things turned me on more than a man on the edge of losing control so yes, I wanted to know what it felt like for him to be inside me and I wanted to know what he wanted. "Tight." His face contorted into a mask of pleasure bordering on pain. "You’ve got no idea what it feels like. I can’t describe it." "Try." He jerked forward from the hips and shook his head. "Oh God, Piper, I’m gonna come so quickly if you don’t stop moving like that. I can’t stand it." "Move over. Lie back. Let me do all the work." I pushed him back, rolled over, tightening my grip on his cock so he didn’t slip out, loving the helpless groans he released as we changed position. Gripping my hips, he arched his back as I moved, only allowing him to slide an inch out of me before forcing him back in. His shoulders again dug into the mattress but I grabbed his hands and let all my weight fall forward onto 32

them, forcing him back onto the bed. He strained up for a kiss but I denied him, watching his face as I circled my hips. My movements got faster the more desperate and helpless his gasps became. The heat inside me increased, made me feel like I was going to explode and I sat up straight, forcing all of his cock into me in one movement. He thrust up, deeper and again grabbed for my hips and by this time I was too lost to protest or force him back down. "Gray..." I’d intended to say his name but it came out in a low moan. "Gray." There must have been something in my voice to tell him how close I was because he pulled himself up, leaning back slightly, propped up on one hand while the other stroked my breast, the thumb flicking the nipple. "Say it." And he took my nipple into his mouth. The sensation of him sucking at me as I rode him was so intense I could barely think, let alone speak. "I’m...coming," I managed to stutter, grabbing the back of his head, forcing him to suck harder as I ground into him. "Oh God, I’m gonna come, Gray, I’m coming..." I pushed him back, forced him to lie down again and came hard, throwing myself forward, leaning on his chest, my entire lower body helpless; I couldn’t move it at all. "You." Gray held my hips to steady me as I collapsed onto him and gasped against his neck. "You are fucking amazing." "But... but what about you?" Suddenly shy after my loss of control, I felt better about murmuring against his skin rather than looking him in the eyes. "What about me?" "You haven’t come yet. And...and..." I took a few deep breaths before trying again. "I can’t control my legs. I can’t sit up." "Well then." He embraced me tightly with both arms and shifted his weight so that we rolled onto our sides, with him still inside me, still hard, sliding more easily now given my post-orgasmic wetness. "Looks like I’ll have to take over. And you," he said, stopping momentarily to nibble my earlobe, "will just have to lie there and take it." ~*~ 33

Something nagged at the back of my mind, disturbing my peace. I became aware of a weight beside me, a reassuring presence acting as a counterbalance against the insistent— Ringing. I groaned, rubbed my eyes and tried to ignore it. Turning over in bed, I reached over Gray—ah, Gray, of course—apologized and groped around on the floor for my handbag. We’d knocked it off my bedside table during our games the night before. "Oh don’t apologize," he said with a sleepy laugh. My breasts were squashed against his chest and I swore he had a gentleman’s early morning ‘problem’. "It’s my alarm. Shit, I forgot to switch it off last night. Sorry. Damn, I’m always doing that on my days off." I fumbled in my bag for the phone and when I found it, pressed the off button without checking for voicemails or texts. "There." I burrowed back under the covers. "Switched the whole thing off so we won’t be disturbed again." "Good." "We can go back to sleep." "That wasn’t why I said ‘good’." Opening my eyes again, I shivered at the smirk tugging at his lips. "Wouldn’t want to be disturbed, would we?" The smirk became a toothy grin. "Gray, it’s seven in the morning. Aren’t you tired?" Pause. "Again?" "Again. Besides, you know what happens first thing in the morning." "No I don’t, Gray Bradford." My attempt to look and sound innocent more than likely failed. "Ah, that’s right." At this his voice dropped to a whisper. "We’ve never woken up together before." "So why don’t you tell me what happens first thing in the morning?" "Better yet." He took my hand and guided it back under the duvet. "Why don’t I show you?" My muscles ached, pleasantly so, and my back felt like it had been twisted into a thousand different positions but when I gripped his erection, the moan from his lips 34

immediately had me switched on again. It was more to do with his reaction to me and what I did to him. Seeing the look on Gray’s face when he came, listening to the sounds he made, hearing the words he hissed in my ear as his breathing built to a roaring crescendo, the thought of all of those conspired to turn me on and there hadn’t truly been a time that previous night when I’d thought, no, I’ve had enough. I’m done. "Aren’t you tired of it yet?" I asked, sliding my hand along the length of his cock, and it grew still harder as I stroked. "Tired of me?" "Hell no." He lay back, a smile on his face. "I can’t decide whether I want to take my time and enjoy every second or..." His voice trailed away and I wasn’t sure if he was lost in what I was doing to him, or fearful of completing the sentence. He bit his lip. "Or I could..." "Tell me." "I could fuck you hard. And fast." Nudging his lips apart with my own, I ran the tip of my tongue around the corners of his mouth and he leaned in, pressed his body against mine and this sign of his need for release flooded me with warmth and anticipation. Sore inside, I still wanted him. "I don’t think you could. You must be tired by now. Spent." He raised his eyebrows. "Is that a challenge?" Smiling sweetly, I batted my eyelashes. "You could say that." He pulled his head away from me, broke off our intermittent kisses and stared. "You have no idea how much you’re turning me on with that sort of talk, do you?" "I think I do." I indicated what I was doing to him under the covers. He ran a hand through my hair, grasping, pulling, and he made me cry out. "Piper." His tongue teased my own, forced its way into my mouth even as he pushed himself at me from the hips, groaning as I tightened my grip. I’d never met a man who appreciated a hand job like Gray Bradford; he made me believe I must be doing it so right. "I can’t take my time with you, not now. I get hard, I want to fuck you, I can’t control myself." 35

"Then do it," I said between kisses and looked him in the eyes. Said it. "Fuck me." "Damn, I could come right here and now with you speaking like that." He pushed away, lay on his back, stared at the ceiling as he took a shuddering breath. "Okay, I need to see to this quick." Again, he opened my bedside cabinet drawer and fumbled for a little foil packet. As he held it to his mouth to rip the corner with his teeth, his hands trembled and I thought, that’s my fault. I’m the one doing that to him. His hands disappeared under the covers. "Come here, you." He slipped an arm round my waist, slid it over my backside and pulled my leg around his hip. With the same hand he guided himself, sliding into me slowly but easily. He looked straight into my eyes as he did so, smiling faintly and studying me as he moved, easing himself in inch by inch. "Are you okay?" he murmured. "Does that feel good?" "Uh-huh." I put my hand to the side of his face and ran my thumb along his bottom lip. As his thrusts became more forceful my fingers dug into his skin. "What about when I do this?" He squeezed my hip, pushed himself deeper still. "Do you like that?" All I could manage was a breathless, "Yes." Rolling me onto my back, he parted my legs even further by pushing one with his hand and nudging the other with his knee. Still staring, with his hands now in my hair, he rocked back from the hips then slid his cock back into me, once, twice, and again. I breathed into him, his parted lips on mine. We didn’t even kiss, just inhaled, exhaled together, in time with his movements, a back-and-forth of breath. Gray’s shoulder muscles rippled under my touch and with the exertion needed for such restraint. The tension made it clear he would die for me to give the word. There was something helpless in his exhalations, almost whimpering cries, showing he was close to losing himself and yet he kept up the same rhythm, pulling out almost to the tip and so damn slowly, sliding back in all the way, burying himself inside me. "Gray." I moved up to meet him, circling my hips in time with his. "Gray." "Is something wrong?" 36

"No." I couldn’t stop my hips circling faster; this reaching, straining for something was all their own. "I just wanted to see you." "Oh Piper, baby, I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I want to come so badly I can’t wait." I dug my nails into the small of his back and he yelped, thrust himself in deep, sharply. "I can’t wait..." "Gray. Gray. Don’t wait." Although he kept losing himself, nuzzling the side of my neck, I nudged him with my shoulder to make him look at me. "Fuck me. Now." The startled, wide-eyed look of disbelief on his face as his cock jerked inside me was the most erotic thing I’d seen while in bed with him. "What did you just say?" "I said I want you to fuck me. Hard." He thrust more violently, harder and deeper and I heard myself cry out as he told me again and again, "Piper, I’m gonna come inside you, baby, I can’t wait, I just love fucking you much—" I exploded under him, threw my head back and cried out, not knowing what sound would come out of my mouth next, not caring, only knowing that I never, never wanted him to stop. "Piper, look at me, I—" Gray’s voice cut off as he buried his head in the side of my neck, overcome from a fit of breathlessness from which he only recovered long enough to shout as he shuddered inside me, "Jesus, I love you. I love you, Piper Holt."

37

Four Glad to get out of the cold and into the warmth of Kelleher’s, I still wasn’t sure it had been a good idea to leave the house that evening. Sure, I could still do myself some damage while painting my toenails and watching a DVD but at least I’d be warm and relatively sober and unlikely to jump into bed with someone who called my name and made declarations of love at the point of orgasm. Added to which, the wailing of a karaoke singer who couldn’t hold a tune with both hands had me wondering if my friend Marie had chosen this place specifically to punish me for not socializing with her in weeks, then hitting her with the ‘Gray bomb’ as she’d called it. We’d gotten together a few days previously to catch up over a bottle of wine and a takeaway pizza and I’d stunned her by blurting out the news. "Gray Bradford? That Gray?" she’d asked, wide-eyed with astonishment. "How many do you know?" She’d asked if we were going to see each other again, a question I had no way of answering. But his words stuck in my mind. His declaration. The words which had frozen me in my tracks, filled me with panic. By telling me he was in love he’d scared me whereas before I might have been prepared to have a casual fling. Now that was off the menu because I’d always be wary of him looking for more in every gesture or kiss or touch. Unless that was an excuse on my part, a smokescreen to hide the fact I didn’t feel the same way about Gray as he claimed to about me. But if he couldn’t help the way he felt, 38

neither could I. The conversation between Marie and I had tapered towards the end of the evening. We’d confirmed Saturday before she left in a taxi and that was that. I retired to bed, strangely deflated, having expected the reassurance only a girly chat could bring but it hadn’t happened. Maybe the wine had killed the mood. The only solution to that was to try again at the weekend, with vodka this time. My priority, over and above texting Marie to check her E.T.A, was getting to the bar and ordering a drink. Entering licensed premises and drinking on my own didn’t bother me as long as I knew my solitude would be temporary and my companion was on his or her way. "Excuse me, excuse me," I muttered, making my way through an area of the bar littered with waist-high tables and bar stools. Even in heels, I felt like Gulliver in Brobdingnag. A group of guys stood around one table, too cool to sit, as they drank from their beer bottles and pint glasses and as I squeezed past a roar of laughter rose up from their group, drowning out the karaoke wailer, and one exclaimed in a far more musical Irish accent, "Feck off! I wouldn’t go near—oh shit, sorry love, am I in your way?" "No, it’s all right. I was just trying to get to the bar." "Hell, never let me stand between my two favorite things." I raised my eyebrows. "Women and alcohol of course." He looked me up and down, discreetly, but definitely looked. In the split second before I moved on I took in his dark eyes over which arched thick eyebrows, the barelythere moustache along his top lip, the smudge of goatee below the bottom one, his lightly-stubbled chin and jaw. A simple cross on a leather band hung in the V of his chest left exposed by the neckline of his white shirt, the cuffs of which he’d rolled up his forearms almost to his elbows. I had to tear my attention away, remind myself I was here to order a drink and wait for Marie. Not to eye up the local talent, although obviously not that local given his accent. Still, it would have been an impossible task to not look over my shoulder as I walked away, fighting my way through 39

the thickening crowd. He caught me and winked. "Smirnoff Ice, please," I said when the barmaid acknowledged me with a smile. "How did you do that?" a guy to my right asked. "Order a drink?" I asked, checking his reflection behind the bar. Like Medusa he was probably best studied in a mirror. Okay, his hair wasn’t made of snakes and his skin wasn’t green, but the greased-back curtain of oily blackness and his narrow, ratty features combined with the smell of stale beer and the unsteadiness of the seasoned drinker were repellent enough. "No, get Grace’s attention so quickly. She’s—" He stopped when the lady in question placed the bottle in front of me, held out her hand for the money, said not a word and glared at my newly-acquired ‘friend’. If looks could kill or turn to stone, Medusa would have nothing on her. "Grace is legendary 'round these parts," he went on. "That so," I muttered, placing a fiver in her hand. She replied with an equally monotone, "Thanks, love," clasped her fingers round the money and continued glaring at the man. "Yeah, she used to be a prostitute before she bought this place." "And you were the client who put her off that line of work, I take it?" I asked, immediately wondering if I’d offended her. But to my surprise she burst out laughing, a sharp bark which drew the attention of several of the surrounding patrons. "Nice one, love. Here. Take your money back. This one’s on the house." "Are you sure?" But I pocketed the money before she changed her mind. "Bloody hell, you never give me a freebie," the man grumbled and I wondered if he was still talking about alcohol. "That’s because you don’t deserve it. Now," Grace said, pointing, positively stabbing the air in front of his face, "I don’t want to see you hassling this girl, right? You just 40

bloody leave her alone." "I wasn’t!" "Was he, love?" "Me? Uh, well, he just said a few words, that’s all." "See?" She turned back to him. "That’s enough for you. Just leave it. Fancies himself as a bit of a ladies’ man, he does. Some chance." "Thanks for the warning." I took my mobile phone out of my handbag for something to do while I waited. "I’m really not as bad as she says, you know." The man leered at me with eyes as big as dinner plates. I wondered if alcohol was all he’d touched that evening. "Hmm." Turning back to my phone, my heart skipped when I saw a text message from Marie. Sorry, can’t make it 2nite, got migraine. Will b in touch soon. xxx. "Oh fuck." I slammed my phone shut, tucked it into my bag and took a huge gulp of my drink. Fantastic. I’d tarted myself up and come all this way for nothing. And she couldn’t tell me sooner, when she’d started to feel ill? "Been blown out, have you? Never mind, we could be friends—" "No," I interrupted. "Thanks. I already have friends." "I thought you came here alone? I didn’t see—" "I have friends, trust me. Over there. Very, very far away. On the other side of the room." "You didn’t—" "She means me." Pressure on the small of my back, a hand perhaps, and I looked in the bar mirrors again. "There you are, darlin’. I told you you should have let me come to the bar, but you wouldn’t listen. Come on." One hand on my bag, the other on my bottle, I paused, inclined my head and he winked. Something in that conspiratorial action told me you’re safe so I allowed him to guide me away from the bar and the nameless drunk. "I hope you didn’t mind me doing that," he said, leaning down so I’d better hear him as we walked. "Um, no. It got me away from that guy, so... thanks." I started to wonder how I could politely take my leave; gratitude didn’t completely kill off the desire to withdraw 41

although a few more seconds of drinking him in couldn’t hurt. "My pleasure." He grinned and his eyes crinkled up at the corners. Don’t look at him, Piper. You’ve just split from Andrew and you messed things up with Gray. Don’t do this. "Actually, I was just coming to look for you. Rescuing a damsel in distress from a barfly seems a pretty good way of finding you, I reckon." "Oh?" I frowned, took a sip of Smirnoff to give myself something to do. "What have I done?" "Nothing." He laughed, and I swear he laughed with an accent. "I assumed you came in alone to wait for a friend, so I figured I’d..." Lifting my eyebrows, I lowered the bottle and started to lick my lips. Realizing what I was doing, I paused, felt my cheeks heat up and looked down again while I finished wetting my lips. "Figured you’d...?" I prompted. "Figured I’d come and ask for your number before anyone else came and nabbed you." Surprise made me cough. "Unless you’re here to meet a bloke already in which case, I’ll be off—" "No, no, I’m not here to meet anyone as a matter of fact." "A woman who loves alcohol so much she’s willing to party solo. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven." Unable to smother a laugh, I explained, "No, no, I was supposed to be meeting someone tonight but I just got a text message. They’re not coming." "What sorta bloke would bin you?" He shrugged. "Ah well, his loss." "Her. Her loss. I was supposed to be going out with a female friend tonight and..." Why I felt the need to clarify this I didn’t know. "She got sick, apparently. So I’m just gonna finish this and go." "Why don’t you come and finish your drink with us? No, on second thought, introducing you to my mates, really bad way of getting your number." "Are you always like this?" "What, Irish, devilishly handsome and in a pub?" He 42

shrugged. "Mostly, yeah. Oh, Leo, by the way." "What?" "My name. It’s Leo." He held out his hand. "So you know what to put in your mobile." It came out mow-boil and made me want to lick my lips again. "You’re very forceful." I switched the bottle to my left hand and took his. Warm. And... I wanted him to touch me more. "But you’re not offended." "How do you know?" "You haven’t kicked me in the nuts. That’s always a good sign." I couldn’t help it; his shameless flirting, overt chat-up lines and cocky confidence made me laugh. Or maybe that was the nerves. He ran his thumb over the back of my hand before letting it go and my fingers flinched. Touch me again. "Can I be honest with you?" He frowned momentarily, bit his lip. "Sure. Go ahead." "I think you’re very attractive and I didn’t want to let you leave without asking for your number, that’s all. I didn’t think to ask if you were with someone or even if you were single. If you’re not, then fair enough, but you can’t blame a guy for trying." Amusing and flattering. A stomach-churning combination. I took a deep breath. Don’t do this, Piper. This is such a bad idea. You’re in a mess, and— "Yes I am." I really shouldn’t have said that. "What the hell is wrong with the guys in this town?" "I finished with someone a few weeks back." Or that. "I always did have excellent timing." He winked. "It’s a cliché, but the luck of the Irish really does exist." "And I met you in a pub. You’re a walking, talking caricature, aren’t you?" He dug into his trouser pocket, pulled out a mobile phone. "Well before you go, then..." Heart pounding, I had to look away for a few seconds. This felt like a bad move and an exciting one all at the same time. But what was I supposed to say to him? You’re gorgeous but don’t fall in love with me; I’ll only break your 43

heart? We’d only just met. Then again, he was a fast mover, so the rules of appropriate social behavior probably didn’t apply with Leo whatever-his-surname-was. "I’ve just realized, I don’t even know your name." "Do you often ask for women’s numbers without finding that out?" "Only the best-looking ones." I choked on my drink, and he laughed while I came back down to Earth. "Piper." "Shit, sorry, love, I— What?" "Piper." I pointed at his mobile. "That’s how you save me. That’s my name." What the heck am I doing? "Piper?" "Yeah, I know. I get that reaction a lot." "It’s nearly as unusual as my name. My full name, I mean," he added before I could enquire. "Okay, shoot." He stared at me and it was a wonder I could remember my own name, let alone my number, but his accent, his deep, dark eyes and that smirk broke down my resistance. At that moment I’d have given him my PIN if he’d asked for it. "I’d best be off." I drained my bottle and set it down on a nearby table. "Wait, wait, just a sec." Leo took my arm and though his touch burned, it made me shiver. Twenty-four years old and I’d never reacted to a man that way before. "You got your phone on you?" "Yeah, always. Why?" He hit a button on his phone. "Show me." When I pulled my mobile out of my handbag, it was alight and a new number had appeared on its screen. "Good. You didn’t fake me out, then." "Why the hell would I give you a fake?" "Now you can save my number and you’ll know it’s me when I call." "We’ll see if you do." "Course I will. I don’t go to the trouble of putting down a pint of Guinness to chase after a woman unless I really want her number. I’ll definitely be in touch." I cleared my throat. "Well. Have a wonderful evening, Leo." "I already did." He winked. 44

Laughing as I exited, I failed in my attempts to ignore the devil on my shoulder whispering in desperation, please let him call, please let him call. Before the crowd swallowed me up I looked back and couldn’t help smiling. Leo whatever-his-surname-was saluted me with his mobile phone and grinned. Yep. He’ll call.

45

Five The following Monday evening, my customary sigh of pleasure as I sank beneath the bubbles morphed into a groan of annoyance. Impatience too, perhaps. Usually I loafed in the bath until the water wrinkled my skin but Gray had called me on the mobile as I’d left work, uttering those immortal words, "We need to talk." Unsettled due to his upcoming visit, I covered my face with my hands, getting soap bubbles in my eyes. "Oh bloody hell, Piper Holt, how do you manage to get yourself into these situations?" But the quiet of the bathroom, temporarily disturbed by the distant echo of my own voice, was my only reply. Maybe I should have had a shower after getting home instead. Quicker. Less temptation to relax and make feeble attempts to block out the world. I scrubbed the day’s sweat and grime away, pulled the plug and got out. Once dry, I dressed in a vest and pair of jeans, the simplicity of which showed I hadn’t gone overboard in my efforts to be presentable. To think I’d gone to such lengths to impress Gray the night I’d been out with him and Matthias and yet now, here I was, dressing down so it wouldn’t look like I was trying to seduce him. Time slowed as seven o’clock neared but eventually Gray arrived. "Hey you!" I said with fake cheerfulness, as he crossed the threshold and bent down to kiss my cheek. "How’s it going?" "Not bad." He smiled. "Cuppa? I was just about to make one." "Sure. Coffee would be great." 46

As I busied myself with the kettle and mugs, Gray leaned against the kitchen doorframe. He made no move to take off his coat or make himself at home. "Aren’t you staying?" I asked, nodding at his jacket. "What?" He looked down at himself. "Oh, this? Well..." A casual shrug, and I wondered if it was truly casual. "That kinda depends, doesn’t it?" "Oh?" I turned back to the cups. "Just milk for you, isn’t it?" Thank goodness I’d remembered. It gave me something to say to fill the silence. "Look, I wanted to see you tonight to see if... well, we’ve hardly spoken since we..." Blood pounded in my ears as I waited for him to finish the sentence. "...slept together. And I know I’m only a bloke and sometimes we get it wrong but I get the feeling there’s something up. It was my fault, wasn’t it?" "Your fault?" I spun round, amazed at his unwarranted mea culpa. "How do you mean?" He rolled his eyes, looked to the ceiling, into the middle distance, down at the floor. Anywhere but straight at me. "What I said. In the morning. The morning after? I scared you off when I said I loved you." "Oh. That." At last he was able to meet my gaze with his own. "Yes." He raised his eyebrows as he stared at me. "That. It’s not every day a bloke says something like that you know. Well, not this bloke. Maybe guys say that to you all the time, but..." Damn it. I could have kicked myself. Do excuse my callousness while your declaration of affection goes in one inattentive ear and out the other. "No, they don’t." In fact, only a handful had. None of them had meant much to me, except Gray. "I didn’t mean it like that. I just wasn’t sure if... if you..." I bit my lip. "Look, can I be straight with you?" "Please do." "Given that you said it... in the heat of the moment, I wasn’t sure if you meant it. So I thought I’d better back off, just in case you didn’t, so... oh no, I didn’t mean back off. 47

Hell, I’m not making a very good job of this, am I?" "You thought maybe I said it because I was drunk?" "The thought crossed my mind, but I figured the alcohol hadn’t affected you in...uh...other ways..." I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts. "Look, you’re right. Men don’t say that sort of thing easily so I figured it was the drink talking, or the heat of the moment and it was best to leave it be so you didn’t get embarrassed. I’m not the sort of woman to leap on everything a man says and analyze it. So there it is. That’s what I thought. Thunk. I mean think." He nodded slowly, not saying a word, but his brow wrinkled in the merest hint of a frown and his irritated expression became disappointed. In me. Even hurt. "Well? Aren’t you going to say something?" "Yes, you’re right...all of the above are possible explanations. I could have been drunk. I wasn’t, mind you, especially after spending the entire night here, which gave me plenty of time to sober up. But that was a possibility I could see you entertaining." "Oh." "And getting carried away. In the heat of the moment and all that. Yeah, I could see that too. I mean, it was pretty hot, wasn’t it?" "Yeah." I smiled. "Hell yeah." "So there’s the drink, or getting carried away because I was inside you and just about to come." His emphasis on certain words startled me; he’d sounded unusually cold. Not like himself at all. "But there’s one other reason you seem to have forgotten. One other excuse for me telling a woman I loved her." "Oh? Really?" I cleared my throat, knowing he wanted me to ask. "Uh, what’s that then?" He looked me straight in the eye. "I could have meant it, Piper. I could have said I loved you because I meant it." I looked at the floor in shame, unable to meet his gaze. I’d hurt him. That was all I knew in that moment. I’d hurt Gray. The kettle clicked off but I made no move to see to the drinks. I wasn’t in the mood for coffee any more and assumed Gray wasn’t either. Thank God for him; he broke the agonizing silence. 48

"Yeah. I might have meant it," he muttered. "The fact you’ve gone quiet says a lot. Let’s face it, Piper." As he said my name I forced myself to meet his gaze. "If you appreciated what I’d said, or believed I meant it, or in any way reciprocated those sentiments, you wouldn’t just have taken an eternity to look at me, would you?" A need for honesty welled up from my stomach and took the place of my embarrassment and nerves. Earlier on that evening I’d promised myself I would do the right thing and I took a deep breath, prepared to give him that honesty he deserved. "You’re right. I shouldn’t have gone silent on you. I was..." Invisible hands still held my head straight up but they couldn’t stop me squeezing my eyes shut momentarily while I gathered my thoughts. "I was uncomfortable with what you’d said. What I’d done to warrant it I don’t know..." "Piper. You don’t have to do anything to deserve it, it just...it just is. And you don’t have to apologize for not feeling the same," he said in an even tone. "Which I now realize you don’t." He shrugged and gave a thin lipped smile. "I thought... I believed you..." God, the way he looked at me made me feel guilty and unworthy at the same time. "You believed I what?" "That..." Hell, this was going to sound sleazy. Here goes. "I believed you were only after something casual." "I guess it didn’t work out that way." "No." He still leaned against the doorframe, his lips a straight, pale line. He inhaled deeply through his nose while staring at me, concentration etched on his face like a death mask. Eventually he spoke, in a stilted tone. "At least it’s out in the open now." "Yeah. I should have said something sooner." He shrugged. "Awkward situation. Neither of us wanted to be the first to blink. I’ll take a rain check on the coffee, Pipes." So he was choosing to go early. I couldn’t really blame him. And rightly or wrongly, his presence made me uncomfortable. It reminded me of the fact I’d hurt him. Unintentionally, yes, but I’d done it all the same. He didn’t kiss me on the cheek to say goodbye as was 49

his custom, which told me a lot. As did his final words to me before he left. "Thank you for not saying sorry." ~*~ When my mobile rang around an hour after Gray’s visit I assumed he’d forgotten something and wondered if the leap in my chest at Leo appearing on the screen was relief at who it wasn’t, or excitement at who it was. "Hello?" "Is that the girl who claims to be called Piper?" I smirked. "Uh...yeah." "Some hesitation there...?" "Sorry. I was—" "In the middle of something?" A quiet laugh. "Are you alone?" "Of course. It’s a work night. No late night parties for me. Now, what can I do for you?" Again he laughed. "Now there’s a loaded question. Listen, I was going to suggest..." He dropped his voice a level and I pressed my phone closer to my ear, as if this would help me hear him more clearly. He sounded conspiratorial. Up to no good. "What are you doing this weekend?" "What have you got in mind?" "How about we hook up this weekend, maybe on the Saturday? I expect neither of us will be working on the Sunday so we can afford to have a lie in." I wondered if he’d see shock on my face were he with me at that moment, or a sparkle of anticipation in my eyes. Possibly both. "Not that I’m jumping to conclusions, of course. I meant ‘hooking up’ in the sense of going somewhere for a drink... maybe...?" Leo’s voice trailed away. I bit my lip. I’d been grateful to see his name on my mobile screen and not simply because it was him or not Gray; also because he wasn’t Andrew, who’d sent a number of texts. But too, guilt plagued me as if I shouldn’t even be contemplating telling Leo that "Saturday’s good." "Excellent. We are going to have so much fun together this weekend. I can tell. I could pick you up around eight and take you somewhere. Then again, you don’t know me. You’ll 50

want to meet up in town, won’t you? I don’t like to leave a lady waiting on a street corner or in a pub on her own, though. Hmm. Any suggestions? I’m not too familiar with this city yet. You know the better places to go, I’m guessing?" I suspected he’d deliberately left the ball in my court to allow me to choose a place in which I would feel comfortable. This, together with his realization I wouldn’t want him picking me up at home and his insistence I not wait anywhere for him on my own, reassured me that underneath his dirty exterior there beat the heart of a gentleman. Gallagher’s? No. It was an Irish pub for people who weren’t Irish; natives would be insulted at the twiddly diddly bogtrotter atmosphere although they might be fond of the endless supply of Guinness. A bit like covering a pub in tartan, nailing a haggis to the wall and calling it a Scottish bar. "It depends on what sort of place you like." He didn’t strike me as a spit and sawdust kind of guy. Sure, he’d had his shirtsleeves rolled up on Saturday but they were immaculate shirtsleeves, pressed and gleaming white under Kelleher’s lighting. "A wine bar?" "A wine bar! I’m not going to one of them puffy places." "There’s Cole’s I suppose..." "Oh yeah, that one right next door to Kelleher’s?" "That’s the one. It gets pretty crowded later on, though, that’s the trouble." "Oh, I don’t think we need to worry about that. I meant, we could move on somewhere else. Another pub that is," he added and I wondered if that was genuinely what he’d meant. "And, you know, it depends on if eight is okay for you. I usually start early. Get the first round in." "So it’s true what they say about Irishmen?" "If you’ve heard something that makes me sound good, then yeah, it is. So eight’s okay for you then, darlin’?" I loved the endearment, right down to his glottal stopped ‘g’. "Eight’s perfect." "I don’t want you waiting outside or loitering around in a bar on your own so don’t get there early like women 51

always do." "Leo, I’ve been going to bars for years. I’ve been in some rough places." "Yeah, maybe you have, but not on my watch." "Not on your—?" My voice cut off, halfway between insulted at his attitude and flattered by the attention. "Humour me. If you’re spending the evening with me I at least want to make sure you keep yourself safe before we hook up." "Promises, promises." "Don’t be early. Aim for five, ten past and I’ll wait outside for you." "You’re being very solicitous." "Humor me. It’s the way I was brought up, to show good manners—at least on the outside—but cut me open and you’ll see... Well, I’ll leave that to your imagination. For now, that is. But you go get some sleep and keep your strength up. Saturday, then?" "At eight." "I’ll look forward to it."

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Six What the hell am I doing? I asked my reflection but the damn thing came up with no answers. You shouldn’t be here. All the trouble you get in with guys and... I stood on a street round the corner from Cole’s, contrary to Leo’s wishes, but he wasn’t to know. I pinched my cheeks despite the fact I’d dusted on some blusher, smoothed down my eyebrows and double checked my appearance as best I could in the compact mirror for the umpteenth time. Well, you’ll just have to do. I snapped the mirror shut and put it back in my bag. My mobile phone told me I was bang on time for my date. Bracing myself against the last minute or two of my walk, the thought of which filled me with trepidation, I pulled my short black jacket more tightly around me. Clearly a fashion item rather than made for convenience or comfort, its three quarter length sleeves and three huge inchdiameter buttons undid any good done by its woollen thickness. But it looked good and that was the main thing. Leo wasn’t a complete stranger. Okay, nearly so, but we’d met before, had a bit of banter. And we were meeting in a public place. So my nervousness mystified me. Perhaps it was the thought of what it might all lead to—probably would lead to. Piper, that little voice in the back of my mind taunted, are you confusing apprehension with excitement again? The twist in the pit of my stomach at that very 53

moment confirmed this was the case and it grew ever tighter as I turned the corner onto the street where I was due to meet him. The knot, the twist in my gut wound around itself, contracted painfully as I caught sight of him. Leo. His back was turned and he had one hand up to his face or his mouth, I couldn’t tell which. He wore a dark jacket or blazer, and jeans. No trainers, but proper shoes. Highly polished. His hair was close cropped at the back and on top it had those ‘just been fucked’ spikes which looked as if they’d been mussed up carelessly in a few seconds but had probably taken him an absolute age to arrange in the way he liked. Oh God. Those two words repeated themselves over and over again in my mind. Oh God, oh God, oh God... I want... I wanted to touch the back of his neck so badly, could have reached up with one hand and— "There you are!" he said, making me jump with the enthusiasm of his greeting. "I’ve been waiting." He took a drag on the cigarette he’d been holding before dropping it, crushing it with the toe of his shoe and kicking it into the gutter. "Jesus it’s freezing out here. How do you bloody women manage in those..." He pointed at me. "Things." "Things?" I echoed, trying not to smirk as I met his gaze. He was a smoker. Deep joy. He swore even more than I did. And he had a tendency to be bossy under the guise of being a gentleman. I really shouldn’t fancy you. I really, really shouldn’t fancy you. I’ve just come out of a break up. I hurt another guy badly. I don’t deserve this, but... goddamn it, I do. I do fancy you. So much it hurts. And I give up. "Yeah. All that... girly shite. F’r’instance, where’s the rest of your coat?" "The rest of my…?" I looked down. Didn’t think I looked too bad. I’d made an effort to look nice. I’d also made an effort to look as if I hadn’t made too much of an effort. "What’s wrong with it?" "It doesn’t have any fucking sleeves." "You swear more than Gordon Ramsay." 54

"Yeah, but I’m better looking though. Come on, woman, where’s your sleeves?" "Look, they have sleeves. They’re meant to be that way. Three-quarter-length. You’ve never heard of threequarter-length sleeves?" "No." He choked out the word in an accented laugh. "I’m a bloke. I do coats. Jackets. That’s about it. Sleeves are supposed to go all the way down to your wrists." "You roll your shirtsleeves up." "Ah, you noticed?" "Fuck. Oh. Damn it. Well, if you’ve got Tourette’s it’s evidently catching. Um, yeah. I might’ve noticed." "Shirtsleeves are optional," he told me, smirking. "They’re there so I can roll ’em up and look all masculine and sweaty. Right, you, let’s go inside." "You?" "It’s a term of endearment." He put his hand on the small of my back and guided me into Cole’s, sweeping me past the doormen like he owned the place. I let myself be swept. We headed straight for the bar. At least, he did. I followed. "Um...is it just you?" I asked. "Or...?" "Huh?" He stopped, leaned down so I could shout in his ear. My stomach damn near leapt into my throat at the very smell of him. I never knew how delicious... now what was that... musk? I never knew musk and cologne could have that effect on me. "I said..." My words came out as a croak, barely audible above the music, rasping against my suddenly dry throat. "Something wrong?" His thick brows knitted together and being so close to his eyes didn’t help me get my breath back any quicker. "I can’t hear what you’re saying." "I said..." I tried again, relieved when the words came out relatively smoothly. "I asked if it was just you here tonight?" "Who else would there be?" The corners of his mouth threatened a smile, but nothing beyond that. His eyelids crinkled ever so slightly, though, and I felt...not mocked, but certainly like the object of his amusement. 55

"Just wondered. Blokes usually meet their friends in bars at weekends don’t they? At the start of the evening, even if they have...other plans later?" When in doubt, fall back on the failsafe. Flirt your way out of any embarrassment. "You must be fucking joking!" He drew back slightly to examine my face before finishing his reply. "You think I wanna show you off to my mates when I’ve got you all to myself? I’d never get any peace. Especially when you look that good." "I look…?" No, never mind. Whatever he meant by it, it was best I let it lie, otherwise I’d sound as if I was fishing for compliments. I straightened up and faced the bar. Time to grab some alcohol. But no. He grabbed me, pulling me back by the elbow. Never in my life had I been so grateful for three-quarterlength sleeves, whether he liked them or not. No sleeves meant his skin made contact with the inside of my arm, his thumb grazing the inside of my elbow and thank God the music was loud enough to conceal my gasp. "Listen." His breath warmed my earlobe and I wondered if some kind of sexual foresight had persuaded me to wear my hair up tonight in a messy French roll. Any closer and he’d be licking my neck. "Listen, the only reason I didn’t meet up with the boys tonight...well, there were two. Meeting a bunch of strangers all at once can be quite intimidating for a lady, sure enough, which is why I didn’t introduce you the night we met, but more importantly..." He gave my elbow a near imperceptible squeeze and I would have thought I’d imagined it, were it not for the shiver of electricity that ran up my arm. "I’m not sharing you with anyone." I gulped, not wanting to look up at him, not because of fear of what I would see on his face, but what mine would reveal to him. I swore he knew what his hot breath on my neck did to me because he gave a short burst of laughter and automatically I turned my head to catch his smile and his breath smelled of cigarette smoke still. I hated the smell. On him, I knew I’d love the taste. At that moment I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his 56

lips. Centimetres from mine, with cigarette smoke lingering, close enough for my heart to pound, close enough to make my lips part. He put his other hand on my neck, fingertips grazing the hollow below my ear, his thumb at my throat and if he pressed a little harder, my breath would catch again. "No." I blinked. What the—? "No, I’m not gonna kiss you." "What?" It was unladylike of me to exclaim so loudly over being denied a kiss, but Jesus, he’d let me think he was about to... "Not yet anyway." Smiling, he broke contact piece by piece. Thumb. Fingers. Hand. "I might get carried away." "Might..." Attempting further speech was pointless. All I could do was clear my throat. "Can I get you a stiff one?" "I...what?" He broke into an uncontrolled grin. "I meant a drink, you dirty wench." The way he said it, it sounded like dorty. "Yes. Please." Another attempt at clearing my throat. And thank God I had the presence of mind not to ask him for an alcopop. "Vodka and coke. Thanks." "Double?" "Are you trying to get me drunk?" "Of course not, I prefer my women sober. They enjoy it more." "Enjoy what more?" I winked. At least I now had control over my facial muscles and my ability to flirt had returned, though for how long I didn’t know. Probably until the next time he touched me. "Jesus..." He leaned on the bar with both elbows, but still managed to stretch over to speak to me. "Early in the evening, place isn’t full yet and I still can’t get the barman’s attention. Do something to get his attention, would ya?" "Like what? Flash him?" I winked again. "Not a chance. I wouldn’t share you with my mates, I’m not sharing you with a fuckin— Oh, hi, yeah... Gimme a pint of Guinness and a double vodka and coke for the lady." "Ice?" the barman asked. Clearly a man of few words. "No thanks, no ice." "Brave girl." Hot breath in my hair again, as the 57

barman tended to our drinks. "Are you kidding me? I’m an experienced drinker." "You’re talking to an Irishman here. You really don’t want to boast about your drinking prowess to me. I’d only be impressed if you ordered a single Irish and took it straight up." Beat. "The look on your face," he went on. "I love the way your eyes go wide. It’s like you’re just about to..." My mouth dried in an instant and as I licked my lips I caught him watching. "Jesus." It sounded like a groan as he turned away and I thought I’d done something wrong until he slipped an arm round my waist, pulled me in and told me, "Any more of that and I’m not gonna be able to walk over to the fucking seats." He paid for the drinks, saluted me with his pint glass and took a sip. It was my turn to stare as he licked the foam off his top lip and gave an 'ah' of contentment. "Nothing like a pint of the black stuff," he said. "And you have to get the head right, too; that’s really important. I love a good bit of head, don’t you?" Though I coughed into my drink I managed not to splutter too much, or spill it, but it was enough to make him laugh. "Shit." He set his glass on the bar, took mine from my hand and put it down too. "Sorry, darlin’." He patted my back. "Course, this is just a flimsy excuse to touch you, you know." "Yeah, thought as much." "My mouth’s always getting me into trouble. I can’t help myself." I looked sideways at him, still coughing. "Jesus." "Are you all right?" "Yeah. Yeah, fine." I reached for my vodka and coke again, took a gentle sip, all the while hoping he wouldn’t say a single word to put me off again. "It’s polite to wait for a woman to swallow before you make her choke." I glanced up at him through my eyelashes, coyly, waiting for his reaction. But he was just staring at me, pint glass in hand, lips parted. 58

"What? Did I say something...wrong?" "Hell no." He shook his head, seemed to come out of his reverie—and I dreaded to think about what he’d been imagining. "Absolutely nothing wrong at all." He took a quick gulp of Guinness, and took my hand. "Come on, let’s go find a seat before I...well, now. And walk in front of me. Just pretend I’ve got a gun in my pocket." "You’re just saying things like that so I’ll look." "You can have a close up if you want." "Now, now, what did I say? Not when I’m trying to drink my vodka." We worked our way across the room, and even though Cole’s wasn’t crowded, he stayed close behind me and I was tempted, sorely tempted, to 'accidentally' brush my hand against that gun in his pocket, but held back. Not because of dignity. Something told me I’d have little of that left after he got me where he wanted me. No, I refrained from touching him for the same reason he’d stopped himself kissing me earlier. Once we started neither of us would be able to, or want to, stop. He slid into the booth before me and I joined him, sitting to his left. "Better this way," he said, slipping an arm around my waist. I wriggled about in the seat to make myself comfortable and he rested his head on my shoulder as he spoke. "Might be a bit embarrassing for me otherwise." His free hand came to rest on my thigh. On bare skin. Inches away from the hem of my skirt and I wondered if he’d try to— "I never thought I’d say this but there’s one thing Guinness isn’t a good cure for." Nevertheless, he lifted his hand off my leg so he could go for his pint glass and take another gulp. Surprising though it was to admit, it was a relief. The less physical contact he made with me, the more I was able to concentrate on simple things like sipping my own drink, registering my surroundings, or breathing. "So," he said, setting his glass down again. I held mine up to my mouth, both for sipping and to mask my face. Though why I felt this need, I didn’t know. "What made you 59

come out tonight?" "You asked me." "Nah, come on..." He shook his head, smiling. "Would you do everything I asked you to do?" "That depends on what it was you wanted me to do." "Stop flirting with me and be serious." "I am being serious. You just see flirtation in my every movement because you’re dirty that way." "So why did you come out?" "I just gave you my answer. You asked me." And I wanted to feel good about myself, not guilty. "You don’t know me, though." "Maybe that’s why I agreed to come out tonight." "Oh really?" "Yeah." I nodded. "You’re someone new. New and exciting. Sure, it’s all very well saying I like meeting new people or I’m a very sociable person and that may be true, but the bottom line is I like meeting new people for selfish reasons, because variety is the spice of life." "You get bored easily, then?" "Oh, maybe not with people so much. I like to try new things," I said, draining my glass and resisting the cough tickling the back of my throat. I couldn’t let myself choke on a gulp of alcohol in front of an Irishman again; that would be so shaming. "I knew there was something I liked about you." He gave a toothy grin and my heart skipped a beat. Yes, he was good-looking. Of course he was, otherwise he would never have caught my eye, but the more time I spent in his company the more he grew on me. The more he smiled, or touched, or flirted, or looked at me like he was thinking filthy thoughts, the more my desire increased. "Why did you phone me?" He squeezed my leg and twisted round to give me his full attention. His voice wasn’t low, given the background music, but was barely above that noise level, so I had to lean in. He did it deliberately, I knew, so I had to get close. Not that I minded. "I don’t believe in playing games." I stared at his mouth, desperate to touch it, but also desperate to cling to any semblance of self-control. 60

"Some people think I’m too forward." "I like that about you. I prefer honesty." "Brutal honesty?" "Sure." I nodded, nothing more than a mere twitch of my head, licked my lips and caught him watching me do so. "I really want to kiss you." Such a simple phrase, so bare, so honest, so arousing. It was all I could do to stutter out the words, "Then why don’t you?" "I don’t remember saying it was your mouth I wanted to kiss." "I..." "I love that I do that to you. Make you speechless. I see something I want..." He paused, ran a single finger up and down my thigh and a shiver of electricity followed his touch. "...and take it." Mute, I waited for him to speak further. "You’re a woman who likes honesty, correct?" I gave another slight nod. Once. "Well here’s something I know to be true." Leo ran his forefinger along the inside of my elbow, and it was the arm which still held my now empty glass. His lips parted for a moment, a brief flash of time, and he took a deep breath. The now fading smell of cigarette smoke drifted by as he exhaled again. He looked down at my legs. His left arm still encircled my waist and he touched my knee with his right hand. He bit his lip as he looked into my eyes again, staring. "We should get out of here."

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Seven I wasn’t as nervous unlocking my front door as I had been with Gray; this time round, there was no risk of ruining a friendship of many years’ standing. This would turn out to be nothing more than a deep and meaningful overnight relationship, an agreement between two consenting adults who knew nothing about each other beyond the fact the feeling was mutual. And that feeling wasn’t love, respect or friendship. It was lust. Daring shot through me as I opened the door, stepped across the threshold and held the door open. "It’s like crossing the Rubicon," Leo murmured. "You do realize once I’m in your flat I can’t be held responsible for my actions?" "Don’t hold back on my account." We moved slowly. I flicked on the hall light, he stepped away to give me room to lock the front door again behind us and I zipped my keys back into my handbag. "Shall I get us something to drink?" I asked, to have something to say. Expressionless and wordless, he came nearer by one step, a frightening intensity in his chocolate eyes. I’d never noticed their true color before, but I’d only ever seen him outside after dark or under the artificial lights of a city centre bar. He gripped my upper arms just below my shoulders and kept walking, forcing me back until I ended up against my front door. Even when my metallic hair clip clinked against it and I gasped, he didn’t stop to ask if I was all 62

right. His upper body pressed against mine, keeping me in place—you’d better not think you’re going anywhere—as he fiddled with his belt and zipper, staring into my eyes as he did so, glaring. "Hadn’t you better take your coat off?" he asked, continuing to tug at his own clothes. Unquestioning, I unbuttoned the jacket with the sleeves he’d earlier mocked and let it drop on the floor. When I was done he wrapped one arm around my waist and grabbed at my skirt with his other hand, simultaneously trying to haul it up and press himself harder against me. "What? Now?" "No, next week, when do you think?" His brow furrowed before he pressed his face to mine, mingling his shallow breaths with my own. "You’re not gonna argue, are you?" His authoritative tone made me gulp. "Up against the door?" "I don’t want to wait," he growled. "I can’t wait." His lips curled into a conspiratorial smile and he reached down with one hand, his arm making slow, rhythmic movements as he stroked himself. "The neighbors... They might hear..." "So fucking what? Let them hear. Now get these knickers off. Or whatever the hell you call ‘em. Now." I struggled to pull them down even partway with him standing so close to me, had to wriggle to one side while he watched. His scrutiny made me more nervous and shaky than I was already. His gaze burned my skin and I avoided looking back at him, any part of his body, his face or... It’s called an erection, Piper. You’re allowed to think it. You’ve never held back from thinking or saying that word before. Why so coy? "You look like you could use a hand." Leo fell to his knees and slid both hands up the back of my legs, underneath my skirt, over my buttocks and pulled at the cotton briefs. When he had them down to my knees he used one hand to continue pulling them down my legs and the other to haul my skirt up even further. Leaning back against the door, I covered my eyes to block everything out. So immense was the sense of exposure 63

I couldn’t bear to look at him, though I was still clothed. Breath warmed the inside of my thighs; he did nothing but kneel there, breathing on me and my hips jerked forward. To disguise the involuntary movement I moved my leg to one side, kicked off the briefs which yet pooled around my ankles. He caressed my leg as I lifted it, running over my ankle as I stepped to one side and did the same when I moved the other leg. One of his hands grasped the backs of my thigh, pulled me closer to him and the other held the front of my skirt up as he traced a line up the inside of my thigh with the very tip of his tongue. When his tongue grazed my clit my arms pressed against the door at shoulder height and somewhere at the back of my mind was the thought, that was an accident, he didn’t mean it, he was just breathing against my skin, but no, he did it again. The tip of his tongue easily found my clit, circled it again, again, again. He pushed my skirt up further and when both of his thumbs ran grazed my hip bones I cried out, a strangulated moan, and jerked forward again, unashamed this time, lost in the feeling of his tongue sliding past my clit and tasting the moisture it drew out of me. He stopped and I realized I was panting. "Jesus," he murmured. "Jesus. I only meant to help you get your knickers off but damn it, I told you I wanted to kiss you." Leo groaned as he stood, stumbled a little, steadied himself by gripping my hips even harder, pushed himself against me. He licked his lips. "You taste..." He bent to kiss me, gently at first, then ran the tip of his tongue across my lips, teasing the corners of my mouth. My lips parted and his tongue grazed over mine. My first kiss with someone new, and it tasted of myself. "Mmm..." he murmured as the kiss came to an end, pausing to take a breath. "I knew it. I thought you’d be delicious and you are. You’ve got the sweetest taste. I could do that all night if I wasn’t so desperate to get my cock in you." The base of my spine tingled as if all the nerves in my body converged at that point. Sensation multiplied so pleasurably it hurt and I worried my legs wouldn’t hold me 64

up much longer. He kissed me again as both of his hands went to his waistband to free himself completely. He grabbed one of my hands, guided it onto his erection, showed me how to touch him, how tightly to hold him, how fast to move. Letting go of my hand, he drew back from kissing me and his breathing held for a moment while he got used to my touch. While I got used to the feel of him. Every time I released my grip then tightened it to slide it down the shaft of his cock he groaned in my ear, muttering obscenities under his breath. "No. I can’t..." As soon as he said those words I froze. He pushed my shoulders back against the door, restricting my arms and I questioned him with my eyes. Disappointment made me bold; he’d stopped me touching him after making me touch him and I wanted to know why. "I can’t wait any longer," he said and I exhaled in relief. "I want to taste your pussy again and have you stroke my cock but right now I have to be inside you or I swear I’ll go fucking crazy." His hands searched through his jacket pockets. "I hope you don’t think I was being presumptuous." He winked as he tore the foil packet before removing the condom and dropping the wrapper on the floor. "I brought plenty." "Be as presumptuous as you like. I’m just glad you didn’t bring only one." "One?" Leo fiddled with the condom, tutting when it wouldn’t behave. "Jesus. Fuck. There, done. One? Christ no. What do you think I am?" He gripped my hip with one hand, bent his knees slightly, forced my legs apart and worked himself inside me. When the tip of his cock was inside, his eyes widened in wonderment at the sensation and as he straightened his legs, forced himself in deeper. "Fucking hell..." I couldn’t make any sound other than a helpless gasp. His cock didn’t hurt but I experienced the strangest of sensations. Already wet with arousal I needed more to be able to accommodate him fully. I just couldn’t get into the right position or to the right angle with one of my legs drawn up and hooked around his waist. Our height difference made 65

it too awkward but I still wouldn’t surrender this for anything. I’d wanted this almost since the first moment we’d set eyes on each other and now here he was. Inside my house. Inside me. Somehow he managed to lift me up, help me get both my legs around his waist and support my weight by holding onto me himself while forcing me up against the door. "Fuck." "I’m not hurting you, am I? Am I hurting you?" "No, no, just gimme a moment." I had my arms around his neck, ankles hooked together at the small of his back underneath his blazer. A tangle of limbs and nearlyremoved clothing and he had all the power. All I could do was cling to him as he jerked inside me, jarring me up against the door with every thrust. Leo grunted as he pushed into me, so strong he supported my weight and moved enough to withdraw slightly and force his cock back in. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t comfortable but it was hot. He’d wanted to be inside me. I’d wanted him there. He was. Pinned against the door I did nothing but passively take every sharp thrust he rammed into me. "Jesus Christ," Leo moaned. I couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed; still I clung to him, arms around his neck, and he continued to whisper obscenities. "I never come this quickly. I never fucking do. Jesus Christ, I can’t..." He thrust more rapidly and with one jerk of his hips pushed himself in as far as he could and dug his nails into my skin where he held me, and moaned, the helpless whimpering of a man who’d completely lost control. He panted against the skin of my throat, "Fucking hell that was hot." He shuddered with exertion, his legs buckled and we slid to the floor, still tangled, still with him inside me. His breath warmed my forehead before he kissed me on the lips and asked, "Uh, where’s the bathroom? I better get rid of this thing..." "There." I pointed. "That door." It was hard to suppress a disappointed sigh when he pulled out before retreating to the bathroom. I remained slumped on my hall carpet with my legs splayed in front of me, probably looking like a dirty slattern, observing the 66

debris of our knee-trembling fuck up against my front door. Knickers discarded, coat tossed onto the floor, handbag thrown to one side. I stood, and though wobbling, managed to stay upright and straightened my skirt, made myself look something approaching decent again. "Come on Piper, you can do this," I whispered, so he wouldn’t hear me talking to myself. I hung up my coat and grabbed my handbag before heading for the kitchen to throw my underwear in the washing machine drum. In my room, I sat on the edge of my bed and kicked off my heels before falling back onto the mattress, throwing my arms above my head and closing my eyes. I wasn’t ready for sleep, not by a long shot, but closing my eyes made it easier to picture what I’d just done. Yes, he was gorgeous. He was growing on me, that much was clear. Yes, he was dirty. And no, he didn’t want to stop there, I could tell, but I didn’t want to commit to anything beyond this night. Didn’t want to make plans to see him again, didn’t want to get my hopes up or hold any expectations as to what would come of it. I just wanted to have fun. No strings attached.

67

Eight "Where the fuck have you gone?" Leo demanded to know, sounding not angry but put out at least. I expected you to be here waiting on me, woman. Such a caveman. "In the bedroom," I called out. "Ah, that’s more like it," he said in a quieter voice. "I left my jacket hanging up in the hall. I assume this is..." He appeared in the doorway, the light from the hall illuminating his left side, his right entirely in shadow as I raised my head, propped myself up on both elbows to get a better look at him. "And that is definitely more like it. Don’t you dare move. A woman like you looks best when she’s lying on a bed. I’m sorry for rushing things back there." He adjusted his cuffs. "I don’t know what came over me." "Oh, I didn’t mind. Too much." "You weren’t uncomfortable, were you?" "No. Well. I had no control because you were holding me up, but..." I shrugged as best I could while leaning back on the bed. "Is that something you’re used to? Being in control?" "You could say that." He smiled, folded each sleeve over a number of times and leaned against the wall with his now-exposed arms crossed. Light from the hall crept into the room through the open doorway. "You like being on top." A gentle laugh. "That’s what I thought, that you’re a woman who’s used to making the rules." "You say that like it’s a bad thing." 68

"Oh it’s not, believe me. It’s more fun when you’ve got two people both trying to come out on top, as it were." Despite his saying a woman like me looked best lying on a bed he still made no move to approach. Perhaps he was just appreciating the view. So I decided to give him something to look at. Even though it meant breaking his implied rule, I sat up. Reached for the hair clip at the back of my head, loosed it, tossed it onto the bedside table and shook my hair free. All while ignoring the observer in that self-conscious, hyperaware way woman have. I will not look at you but you’d better be looking at me. The low growl from the back of his throat told me he’d taken in every detail. It sounded like an engine purring. Idling, as if he’d thus far only been warming up. After his performance in my hallway minutes before, the intensity with which he’d stared at me, the way he’d pushed me up against the door and fucked me, not caring if any passing neighbors heard, he gave off the air of testosterone-fuelled confidence only ever found in men who knew beyond a shadow of a doubt they had what it took to melt women down to their basest components. "You’re welcome to try," I muttered, too nervous to speak out loud and freely. Leo uncrossed his arms as I peeked at him through my tousled hair, finger-combing it. "What did you say?" His voice was too musical for there to be any anger in his words; indeed there was a hint of laughter in his tone. "You heard." "No, I didn’t." He took a step away from the wall, a step towards me. "That’s why I asked you to repeat it." "I said." I paused to take a deep breath. "You’re welcome to try." "Oh really?" He dipped his head in a parody of a deferential nod and neared the bed, his movements much slower now, more controlled, which made sense. The blinding lust was out of the way, temporarily, for him at least. He’d had an orgasm but I was still in want of release. He knelt at the side of the bed and wordlessly took hold of each of my ankles, placed one foot on his left and one on his right so he was now positioned between my legs. 69

Gripping the bedcovers, I wanted to lift my hands to touch him but didn’t, unsure of where to touch him first. Too fascinated by what his hands were doing. Those hands were teasing shadows, simultaneously stroking my legs from ankle to knee. Agonisingly slowly. He might have taken enjoyment from my skin under his, but for me it was torture. He took too much time, damn it, and I wriggled under his touch. "Am I tickling you?" He watched himself stroke my skin. "No." "I keep feeling you move." "It’s not..." I faltered, closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath. "It’s not ticklish." "Then what is it?" His thumb ran above my knee and my lips parted in a near silent gasp. "I want..." No, that wasn’t it. "I don’t want..." No, that wasn’t it either. "I can’t..." "Can’t what?" Think straight. "I can’t say it." My eyes started to roll back in my head and he’d barely touched me above the knee since we’d moved to the bedroom. "Of course you can," he whispered. My eyes closed as I tried to pluck up the courage to let the words out. I had no idea how to articulate what I desired. And then my breath caught in my throat at the sensation of his lips on my knee, as his hand slid along my inner thigh. The warmth between my legs which had begun as a flush of arousal became unbearable desperation. His stubble hissed against my leg, giving me goose bumps, or maybe that was down to the trail of his tongue, flicking its way inch by inch up my thigh. He pushed my skirt up and stared, not at my face but wherever his hands had been a millisecond before. Thighs, hips, waist. Again his thumbs grazed my hipbone, making me choke on another caught breath. "You like that?" I nodded. "I can’t hear you." Of course. His hands on my skin held his attention. He did it again to get a reaction. "Yes." 70

"What do you want me to do?" "You already know. There’s no need to make me say it—" "No, there isn’t." At long last he looked at me. In the light from the hall, I just made out his features. "There’s no need for you to say it, but I know it makes you uncomfortable and that’s why I want to hear it." A pause. "Now tell me." And again. "What is it you want?" "You..." I swallowed. Closed my eyes and blurted out, "Your hands." "What about them?" "I want them on my bare skin." "Good." He slid his hands down from my waist and back to my thighs, and knees. He pushed them apart and with one finger traced a line back up, eventually finding my clit. The lightest of touches made my heart race. "Do you want me to stop?" "No." "Good." He had a way of saying that word that made it sound as if it came from the back of his throat, halfway between a moan and a growl. As his fingers circled my clit I leaned back but pushed my hips forward and his fingertip played with my pussy, teasing, sliding over the moisture but not entering. "Jesus, you’re wet," Leo murmured, almost to himself. "I love it. Is there...?" He looked around and suddenly his hands were off me. No contact, no finger almost inside me, no light kisses on my thighs and I gave a silent gasp of shock. "I want to be able to see you properly," he said as he reached over to my bedside table, fumbled for the lamp’s on switch. "There. That’s better. Don’t move." He stood and made for the door. "Where are you going?" my voice followed him as he left the room, nearly driven mad with frustration. He’d played me and damn, I could have killed him in that moment. "Turning the hall light off." On his return he pushed the bedroom door shut. "There. Now we’re... I thought I told you not to move?" All I’d done was pull my skirt down. "I was just 71

making myself more comfortable." "Yeah, and undoing all my hard work. I wanted to come back in here and see you waiting for me." My cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I was too..." "Exposed?" "Yes." "There’s no need for that." He sat beside me on the bed, leaning on one hand, with his other above my knee. "I would have thought a woman like you wouldn’t have any, what’s the word, stumbling blocks, especially in the bedroom. Especially with a body like yours. You should be proud of it." "Maybe I still have to get used to you yet. Get used to trying certain things I mean." "Sounds good to me." Leo’s hand crept higher, under the hem of that misbehaving skirt. "I like a woman who’s adventurous. Open-minded. Open-legged is even better. You know what I think?" He didn’t wait for any response. "I think it’d be an awful lot better if you weren’t wearing this skirt at all." Leaning in to kiss my neck, he pulled me down onto the bed. "Does this damn thing have a button or something?" "Here. Let me. There’s a zip at the back." I arched my back, lifted my hips clear off the mattress and somehow managed to work the zipper down before falling back again. "There. Done." He propped himself up on one arm and looked at me, not making any further move. "I thought you said it would be better if I wasn’t wearing this skirt at all?" I asked tentatively. He stared. "Oh you expect me to take it off, do you?" "No, but I’d like it if you did." "Really?" He slid off the bed, knelt in front of me again and inched the skirt over my hips. "I’ll just bet you would." "I like being undressed by a man." "Like unwrapping a gift," he whispered. "Trouble is, I’ve been known to tear the paper." A ripple of heightened awareness ran up my spine as my skirt finally came off. Leo’s breath waved across the V at the top of my thighs and he placed his hand gently across the area his breath had just been. He paused and just as I began to 72

worry, his thumb moved in slow circles over my clit. It wasn’t enough and he knew, he must have known, because he told me to move further back on the bed. "Make sure you’re comfortable. I’d hate to think you weren’t enjoying this as much as I am." I wriggled as his fingers worked their way inside me. Gasped. "Am I being too rough with you?" "No, no. Just gimme a second to get used to you." I didn’t know what was wrong with me. This guy was a stranger, everything about him alien. His touch, his taste, where he’d go next, what he’d do. There was no expectation, no knowledge of what was going through his mind and that realization was what finally tipped me over the edge from arousal to need. I needed to find out what he would do next; curiosity, the excitement of simply not knowing heightened my arousal. He stroked me from the inside, crooked fingers slowly drawing out again, taking their time, not trying to force an orgasm out of me, letting it happen at its own pace. When my breathing became shallower still and my hips moved in time with his teasing fingers, he dipped his head, flicking the tip of his tongue in butterfly kisses on the insides of my thighs, lapping at the moisture around my pussy and stubbornly not touching my clit. "Don’t..." A single breathy word and I didn’t understand it myself. Don’t what? Don’t stop? But he did. He looked at me. Exposed again. Strange how I didn’t want him looking at my face while he stroked me like that. "Don’t what?" he asked. "Am I not doing it right?" "You know you are." "I thought I was hurting you. Or doing something you didn’t like." "I don’t know what I meant. But you’ve stopped. Don’t stop." "I’m still touching you." "But your..." Again my nerves failed me. Damn them. "It’s not enough." "I know what you want," he said. "Then why don’t you—?" 73

"Because I like it when you can’t think straight. I like it that you’re frustrated. I like it that your pussy’s soaking wet around my fingers and I know you want my mouth on you because when I finally do give you what you want, I bet you’ll explode." The tips of his fingers dragged slowly along the most sensitive spot inside me and I jerked up to meet them, sighing with a desire for more. His closely trimmed goatee and the stubble along his jaw and upper lip tickled as he dipped his head again, not making full contact, just letting me know he was there, knew the effect he had on me. And then the briefest of touches. His tongue made contact with my clit, just one flicker and then nothing. The low sound of laughter as my hips strained to meet him and then thank God, he did it again, and again, each time more forceful than the last, all the time his fingertips circling inside me in the exact same rhythm as his tongue on my clit. There was something just out of sight, just out of reach and I ached for it, arching my back, forcing myself up, scared it would always be just beyond me but every time his tongue ran from my pussy up to my clit and circled, I got nearer and nearer and my gasps became moans became cries. "You are fucking delicious," he said against me, lifting his head just enough to make his words clearer, then tasting me again. "Jesus. I could taste your pussy all night; it’s fucking perfect." All I knew was that I wanted him; I wanted him to make me come, and I grabbed his head, pulled him by the hair. He didn’t push his fingers deeper inside until I moved in a certain way and he followed me, let me lead the rhythm as his tongue circled on my clit, faster and faster the closer I got to release. "Jesus..." I gasped out one single word as the pulsing began deep inside me and his strokes became more insistent, the flicks of his tongue more rapid. "Oh God... oh God... fuck!" I rarely screamed words like that, so helplessly as I came, but I did then as something exploded inside me, so rapidly and forcefully I threw my head back, blind from the intensity of one of the most powerful orgasms I’d ever experienced. 74

He lifted his head but kept his fingers teasing me inside, moving with each pulse, one wave coming quickly after another. I grabbed his arm and gripped it so tightly I could have left a bruise on his skin but didn’t care. I wanted him, some part of him still on or in me, until the last wave of pleasure faded, so he could ride it too. "I knew you’d come hard," he whispered, restrained and gentle. And just as the last ripple of climax uncoiled and faded to nothing inside me and he slipped his fingers out. "The next time will be even better."

75

Nine From the angle at which I lay, I had the perfect view of the V of his shirt and the teaser of chest it revealed. Leo stroked my hair, stopping every so often to draw me closer for a kiss. No tongues. There was something strangely erotic about simple kisses on the lips from a man who’d just made me come with that mouth. From intensity to delicacy. So forceful and yet so gentle. "I loved it when you grabbed my hair; I knew I was doing something right." "You haven’t—" "Ssh, just listen. Don’t try to be the ball-breaker with me. You won’t win. I’m just saying, there’s nothing sexier for a man than a woman who comes so hard her whole body shakes and he was the one who made it happen." He was confident enough to use filthy language in a way that emphasized his confidence, rather than making him seem like he was trying to be dirty, playing at grownups. His first words were probably four-letter ones. His fingers combed my hair before his hand rested on the back of my head, holding me close, and this time his tongue parted my lips, teasing the corner of my mouth before forcing itself in. Just as he drew back I caught his tongue between my lips and sucked it, letting him pull away at his own speed, but still sucking gently. "Jesus. If I’d known you kissed like that I would have done it a hell of a lot sooner." Again his tongue ran over my lips, tickled the corner of my mouth and a ripple of pleasure ran through me. I loved the way he kissed as much as he loved the way I did. 76

My fingers ran over the stubble of his jaw and my heart skipped a beat; men with five o’clock shadows, stubble, close-clipped goatees or any form of light facial hair turned my knees to jelly, especially when they oozed testosterone from every pore as Leo did. I traced a line along his cheekbone as we kissed, followed the dip in his facial contours, the hollowing of his cheek, as his kisses became more insistent, his tongue searched deeper. I went for a button on his shirt, the first which was still done up as he’d left one or two open. I was surprised I managed to get any undone at all, my fingers shook so badly, but got there in the end. He lay on his side and allowed it. Stared. Unsettled me with such intensity. "You don’t like me staring, do you? Why don’t you like it?" "Because you’re looking at me like the big bad wolf." He grinned, showing two rows of gleaming white teeth. "Like you want to eat me." "Oh baby, you have no idea." I tugged one sleeve of his shirt off; he let me, with no struggle or resistance. "You have a tattoo?" A tattoo, welldefined biceps and a bad attitude. Leo had it all. "I have tattoos." "Where?" "You’ll have to find ‘em." I traced my finger across the barbed wire band encircling his upper right arm. "Did it hurt?" "People always ask that." "The difference is I hope it did." He laughed. "You really are something else. Usually folks ask if it hurt ‘cause they’re interested in getting inked themselves." "Maybe one day. I just like tattooed men is all. Shows they can take the pain." "I can take pain all right. But that one wasn’t too bad. It’s only a small thing and I was used to it by then. This one fucking hurt though." He moved onto his back, shuffled out of the rest of his shirt and dropped it on the floor, leaving himself bare-chested. "It was the first one I had done." 77

"Jesus, you don’t do things by halves, do you?" An upper sleeve tattoo covered his left arm from shoulder nearly to elbow; intricately woven crosses, daggers, hearts and drops of blood against a shield background. "Took fuckin’ hours." "And must have hurt." "Yeah, it did, but you get high on the pain. So I went back and got more." "Show me." "You expect me to turn my back on you?" "I won’t do anything." As we still lay down, I on my side, I was only able to comfortably raise one arm, show one innocent palm. "Promise. I’m just trying to examine you for signs of body art." "If I said I had a tattoo on my cock, how closely would you examine that?" "Inch by inch. And very slowly." "How about with your mouth?" I slapped his torso, playfully. "I’d better turn over now before the sight of you halfnaked makes it far too hard for me to lie on my front." "I assume you mean difficult?" I asked as he rolled onto his stomach. His shoulder blades moved as he laid his head on his hands, rippling the string of barbed wire etched between his shoulder blades. I stroked my hand over it, the heat from his skin burning mine. "No. Definitely hard." He wriggled his hips to make a point. "And don’t try anything while you’re back there. I’d really have to hurt you and you’re too pretty for that." I inhaled. Silently. "There’s one thing you could do though, if you wanted to make me happy." I kissed him on the neck and whispered, "What’s that?" "The one thing you could do to make me a very happy man indeed is when I turn over..." "Yes?" "You could be naked." "Really?" I said the word for the sake of having something to say. A placeholder, something to insert into the conversation. 78

"Yeah. Get that fucking top off." "I had to wear something. It wouldn’t have done for me to leave the house naked." "I prefer my women naked. And if you’re wearing a bra, you can get that off too." "I would have thought you were the type of man to do that yourself. Tear the wrapper off." "Me? Nah. I’m all fingers and thumbs tonight. You saw what I was like with your skirt. Thirty-one years old and spazfingered all to hell. Christ, I need a smoke." "You want an ashtray?" I shifted my weight but he lifted his head. "You stay where you are. Given the choice between a smoke and you getting naked..." Leo chuckled. "Let’s just say I’m glad you’re not one of those women who gets pissy about someone smoking in their house but I’m not that addicted to nicotine. Only when I’m—" He paused, lay his head back down on interlocked fingers. "Only when you’re what?" His jaw tightened before he spoke up. "I don’t smoke that much. Just socially, or when I’m nervous." I ran my hand over his shoulder blade tattoo again while I considered what he’d said and tried not to shift my weight too much as I pulled my top over my head, dropped it over the side of the bed, unclasped my bra and did the same. "You’re very quiet back there." As his weight shifted I lifted my hips, knelt up to give him room to maneuver. He rolled onto his side, his eyes widening with barely-concealed approval and fell onto his back once more. "Jesus." He pulled my hips down so I was sitting on him properly again. As properly as I could while he was still partially dressed. "I’m beginning to think all my birthdays have come at once." "All thirty-one of them?" "Jesus." Leo reached up and with his fingertips touched the spot between my breasts, then jerked his hand away as if my skin burned him. And I wondered which of us was the more vulnerable. He jerked his hips, unbalanced me and pulled me down onto him. "So let’s even things up," he said, his mouth less than an inch from mine and so, so tempting. "Tell me how old you are." 79

"Twenty-four." "Oh," he said as I kissed him and I didn’t know if this was in response to my age or my sudden assault and his hands slid up my back, gripping me. My hands on either side of his face and I finally, finally, allowed our bodies to make proper contact as we kissed. "So you’re seven years younger than me, Piper Holt?" He’d evidently paid attention to the nameplate on my front door. "Yep. Seven years, old man...?" "Carson." "Leo Carson." Rolling the words over my tongue, I smirked. "Leo Carson." Pause. "Wait a minute. I thought you said in Kelleher’s that night that my name was almost as unusual as yours. I think Piper beats Leo Carson any day of the week." "I was referring to my full name." "Which is? I assume you have an embarrassing middle name?" "No. Thomas." "Leo Thomas Carson?" "It sounds so sexy when you say it like that." He wriggled under me, and laughed. "But not unusual." Leo took a breath so deep his chest heaved. "I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this, but my first name..." "What about it? God, have you been lying to me all this time, you fiend? It’s not Leo at all?" "Oh it is, it is, it’s just...that’s a shortened form of my first name." "Leo? Short for...what? Oh, Leonard? Well that’s not so bad. Bit old-fashioned, but...no, nothing wrong with it." I stopped in case he’d been named after his father and I’d unknowingly insulted his family tree going back seventeen generations. "Ish." "Ish? Ish? Define ‘ish’. How close am I?" I swear he gulped. "One letter away." "One...? I don’t get it." "You owe me one for this." 80

"I’ll give you one any time you like, Leo." "Leonardo." "Leo—?" He squeezed my thigh. "Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have told you that. You’re not to laugh. You’re not laughing, are you?" "No, no, I’m just...uh, well...yeah, I am." "Bitch." Another thigh squeeze, and another light kiss. "No, seriously, I just think it’s a bit, hmm, what’s the word?" "Sexy? Manly? Laden with testosterone?" "Obviously, as it’s your name. But an Irishman with an Italian name? It’s a bit incongruous." "I know, I know. My parents are twisted people. I should go by Thomas." "No, no. You look more of a Leo than a Tom. It’s more leonine." "King of the jungle?" "If you say so." A huff of laughter against the side of my face and his breathing changed, slowed, went as deep into his lungs as I wanted him in me. His hands went to my sides, pushed up, and his palms moved across my nipples, barely touching but still drawing the air out of my lungs, as if stealing my breath for his own body. "You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?" With one simple statement he stopped time. And with one simple movement, the undoing of his zipper, he started it again. Silk boxers – this man had class – glided past his hips. Sure, he’d been inside me; I’d felt him, but seeing his cock like that, so hard and big amazed me I’d been able to take it. Made my mouth water. He stopped and for a moment I wondered why, until I realized one of us had to move. I’d have to get off him and help him off with the rest of his clothes, or he could swing his legs over the side of the bed to get his jeans off. Or... Pushing back against his shoulder, I leaned over him again, bent down for a kiss. Or so I let him think. I wanted to see the look on his face, hear the sharp intake of breath as I 81

let my hips drag over his hand, the hand he used to stroke his cock. His rhythm sped up as my breasts touched his skin and as his hand moved, it brushed against my inner thighs. "Take your hand away." "What?" Leo gasped out the word, eyes glassy with confusion. "I said, take your hand away. Now." The vehemence with which I spoke surprised even me, as did the fact he obeyed. Clasping my hands over his above his head, I kissed him deeply but slowly and rocked my hips back and forward, only allowing the tip of his cock to slide along the V at the top of my legs. Nowhere near my pussy and definitely not inside me, the perfect way to give him a taste of what was to come. "You..." I stopped. "What?" "You’re...Jesus." His hips jerked upwards but so did mine, away from him. "This...you...it’s making me crazy." "Good." "How can you...aren’t you...too horny to play me like...Let me touch you." Such desperate longing in his voice. All I could do was punctuate his words with a kiss. "Let...me..." Struggling against my hands. I kissed. "Let me...touch you..." "What’s the magic word?" "Now." Using his brute strength to break one hand free, in a flash Leo forced two fingers inside me, but didn’t force; they slid in easily because I was ready for him. "I thought so," he groaned. "I thought you were as turned on as I am." "I...I..." The rapid circling of his fingers confused me, made me stutter, pause, forget what I intended to say. "Now I’m really pissed off that I let you take over when I coulda been doing this with my cock all—" I laid my hand on his arm, forced his fingers out of me, frowning as I did so and he complied, probably wary of hurting me. I hated the feeling of being empty, not having part of him inside part of me, but I loved the look on his face. The startled confusion, the frustration, the irritation, 82

the knowledge he couldn’t have what he wanted, at least not yet. Clothing still tangled around his legs so he couldn’t move or fight or topple me without the risk of falling off the side of the bed, he simply took it when I wriggled down his body, touched his cock, wrapped my fingers around and stroked once, upwards, then again, down. As I gripped him, his entire strength rose up through my clasped hand. Leo groaned and grabbed the slats of my headboard with both hands to lever himself up further, so he could thrust himself more forcefully into my grasp. "You...fucking hell, you stopped. What the—?" The tension in his abs lessened only slightly as he let go of my headboard, the cords which had previously stood out on his arms no longer pronounced. Shallow breaths made him sound like an animal in pain. "I am going to get inside you and you’re going to stop messing with my head." He made an attempt to move his legs but I laid a hand on his thigh. Stopped him. Left him still tangled in his own clothing, not naked just yet. Listening for the low moan in the back of his throat as I took the head of his cock in my mouth, easing my lips over it, I held on to his hips and didn’t know whether his resistance turned me on more, or the breathy moans he released. His skin tasted faintly salty, of perspiration, of me. With one hand I stroked him while I tongued the tip of his cock, slowly at first until he pushed himself further into my mouth, his rhythm accelerating. His hands were in my hair then, guiding me, and he whispered, "Harder. Suck it harder." So I deliberately slowed, resisted his guidance and the hands in my hair tightened, tried to force me down onto him but I wanted to savor the taste and the fact his hips quivered with my every movement. His breathing more shallow, more rapid, he whimpered with desire and when I tasted the tang of the droplet of precum at the end of his cock, I considered stopping. But I couldn’t resist. I sucked harder and"Stop," he groaned, pulling at my hair. "No, stop." He jerked my head away and I looked him straight in the eyes. 83

As his arousal grew, so did my confidence. And I didn’t want this to stop. "I don’t want..." Breathless with the effort required for restraint. When I licked my lips, I tasted him there. "I want to be inside you and you’re getting me so damn close. I want to be inside you when it happens." Somehow Leo shed the rest of his clothing. Perhaps I helped. And at last he sat on the edge of my bed, clothing pooled at his feet as if it had melted off him under the heat of lust. He gripped the covers as if needing something with which to steady himself. His chest rose and fell and as he turned to look at me, he licked his lips. Stared. Said not a word. His quietude unnerved me. He lifted a hand to my face, gripped my jaw but not to the point of causing pain. A frown flickered across his brow and then his lips were on mine in a violent, passionate kiss. His free hand pulled me onto him as we fell back onto the bed. With nothing to separate us but skin, we clawed at each other, scratched, pulled hair. "Oh Jesus!" he cried out and it sounded nothing like the desperation of a man in the throes of desire. I froze. "What? What is it?" "I left my jacket in the hall," he said, his breath against my face. "Now I’ve got to get up and I’d rather be getting inside you." "Huh? Oh..." Enlightenment dawned on me. And I couldn’t resist a smile. "You might want to try the top drawer." "The top...?" Now it was his turn for the penny to drop. "Of my bedside table." A dimpled smile, and he ran his thumb over my bottom lip. "I could kiss you." "Please do." "I meant, I could kiss you, but I’d rather fuck you first." He turned to my bedside table, pulled open the drawer and rummaged around frantically. He ripped open the packet and looked over his shoulder. "Fancy helping me out here?" "Oh no, I’d tear it." "Nerves?" Leo raised his eyebrows before seeing to it himself. It took seconds, if that. 84

"Yeah, something along those lines." I lay down and he turned to me, hooked my leg over his hip but didn’t push inside, just teased my wetness with the tip of his cock. "I really, really want to get inside you but I enjoy the look on your face too much when I do that. Did you know you inhale when I do this? And when I pull away you try not to bite your lip but you do." I leaned in but instead of touching his face, I laid my hand on his shoulder and pushed. "Oh no you don’t." He shook his head, half-laughed. "Yes I do. Don’t want you getting carried away, do we? I mean...you were so close earlier when I-" "Do you think I have no self-control?" "If I’m on top we won’t have to worry about that, will we?" I continued pushing against him. I knew he could easily overpower me, taller, heavier, stronger, more muscular as he was, but maybe if I resisted he’d give in. There was male brute strength but there were also feminine wiles. I straddled him, knelt directly above his cock and he looked as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands. First they were on my hips, then round my waist and then thrown above his head as I took all of him inside me. Leo’s eyes closed as his lips parted. As I circled my hips he craned his neck, arched his back, forced himself in deeper. "Fucking hell woman, you’re... you’re so tight. And. Jesus." One arm fell across his eyes as if shielding them from a bright light. "I don’t know how you can..." He swallowed. Gulped. "I don’t know how you can not move." He grabbed my wrists and pulled me down but instead of rocking backwards and pulling back, I threw my weight forward at just the right moment to catch him by surprise, pinning him to the bed. His eyes widened in shock at being bested even momentarily and still more when I wriggled my hips back so my pussy barely touched the tip of his cock. "This time I’m going to fuck you." A snarl painted his face with anger. "The feck y’are," he slurred, sliding into a heavier accent the more he surrendered control... or the more I took it from him. I tried to untangle myself from his hands while still maintaining the high ground but as we struggled he gained 85

the advantage and used his body weight to unbalance me. "You’re forgetting one thing," he said, and I didn’t bother asking. I needed all my strength to stay upright. One slip and he’d be on top and this was one fight I was determined to win. "I’m a bloke. I’m stronger than you." "Well I’m the one on top aren’t I?" "Not for long." I gave a half-smile, probably closer to a smirk, as I moved back and his cock twitched under me. I circled my hips, allowing an inch, just an inch, inside. With each gasp he surrendered, I allowed him in a little further and he again arched his back, trying to control the speed of my movements. "Lie back," I whispered. "Just give me... give me..." Give me what? Time? Give me this, a chance to control you and decide how we move together? He exhaled one long sigh as I moved, sitting up so I could ride him more comfortably. He held onto my hips, tried to move me but what I did felt too good to allow him to change the angle or rhythm or speed. My clit rubbed against him and set off sparks inside me, like miniature explosions leading to the greater one I knew would happen soon. "I know you’re getting close. I feel it. Your breathing," he said, his own coming in short gasps. "And no, I’m not going to let you..." He struggled to sit up as I moved, my hips moving faster but, propping himself up on one hand, he used the other to pull me closer, his hand so tight against the small of my back that it, combined with the angle of our bodies, made it difficult for me to move. "Don’t," I said. Pleaded. "Don’t what?" His hand slid up my back and my skin quivered under his touch. My arms went round his neck and he gripped my shoulder, made it clear who was the physically stronger. "Don’t..." I took a deep breath and touched my forehead to his. Our perspiration mingled. I drew back and something in his eyes asked my permission. "Please." The word was out before I knew what I’d said. "Look, darlin’, I can’t stand it. I can’t let you ride me. Not now." His finger played over my nipple then over the rest of my breast. "See, what I want more than anything 86

right at this minute..." His hand snaked up my chest, around my neck, to my hair. "I want to see you under me because..." His voice dropped to a husky murmur. "Because even though your breasts are fucking glorious and even though the sight of you arching your back above me makes me want to ram my cock into you even deeper, there is nothing—nothing—in this world I would rather see right now than you, underneath me, taking however much of my cock I see fit to fuck you with." I gulped. Started to shake. "...Begging for one more inch..." I whimpered. "Straining up to meet me at every stroke, until you’re so close to coming that you pull me in even deeper and tell me how much you want me to fuck you." Even after he stopped speaking, his words hung in the air between us but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him or at anything. I couldn’t stand the thought of any more sensory stimulation so had to keep my eyes closed as we sat entwined, my cheek resting against his, as I struggled to get my breath back. Every time my lungs stopped aching a word of his, a phrase, sprang to mind and adrenaline shot through my system again. "Hey," Leo whispered, and my eyes flew open. "Gimme something. A word at least." He nudged me with his jaw, pulled his own face away from mine to get a better look at me. "Please." Please stop looking at me like that. Please stop making me look at you. His finger ran along my jaw as his thumb traced the outline of my lips. As I parted them to speak, his thumb darted in and out. His gaze never left my face and when I said "Yes," partly out of surrender and partly out of desperation for him to move inside me, he smiled. Inclined his head a touch. A mutual yet unspoken yes. We lowered ourselves onto the bed, slowly. "Ah..." He exhaled, a controlled breath. "That’s it." He paused for a moment. "That’s it." We rolled onto our sides. And then he was on top of me. Not moving. And now moving. He breathed his words into my hair as he inched out 87

and, from the hips, pushed himself back into me. "Oh Jesus, you’ve got the tightest little pussy I’ve ever fucked." He sounded helpless and yet was still able to control his movements, keep them slow. Painfully slow. "It feels..." He touched his forehead to mine and it was hard to work out which of ours was more slick with sweat. "Warm. And... and..." He shuddered. "I can’t do this. I can’t move slowly. Jesus, when your cunt’s gripping me that tightly I don’t know how much of this I can take." Startled by his use of that word, I knew. Realization rippled through me, from the base of my spine to the nape of my neck and my eyes watered. His quest for control wasn’t anything to do with mastery of me. Rather, his desperation was for mastery of self. He put his own body to the test, pushed himself to the very limits and then tried to hold back, stop himself losing the control he’d worked so hard to gain from me. "I want to see you moving under me, you know?" His mouth was on my forehead, jaw, shoulder. I could have sworn he was desperately trying to hold back from biting. He bared his teeth against my skin and licked instead, tasting me with the tip of his tongue. "But if I start moving any faster I’ll lose it." Sparks ran up my spine every time his hips moved, his cock jarring against my G-spot. "That..." I stopped. "That feels..." "I want to make you come so hard you can’t see straight." Tears of lust, insane desire, welled up and as I blinked them back, explosions of light went off on the insides of my eyelids. "Don’t. Don’t stop." A single breath cooled my forehead before he pulled back and with a moan bordering on a roar he rammed himself all the way inside. I grunted in shock but he took no note, carried on fucking me at his own speed, sliding out easily, slick with perspiration and the juices he worked out of me. I wanted to hold on just for the pleasure of touching him but didn’t know which part to hold on to. Nothing I could say or do would swerve him but the clammy, hot and cold perspiration was irresistible. All at once my hands were on 88

his back, gripping his shoulders, pulling, but he was already there, pounding into me. He panted into my ear, against my neck, jaw line, forehead, even my mouth when he tried – and failed – to kiss me. Every time he brought his lips to mine, his constant, hard, deep fucking wrought a groan from his mouth, or a moan, or sometimes, as he got closer to coming, a whimper. And his whimpers were more than those of a helpless man. They were the sounds of someone who, like me, was coming undone. I tried to put my hand up to his face, to touch his parted lips or his brow furrowed in concentration, but our bodies juddered too much, connected in only one place while our hands, arms, legs, made futile attempts to entwine, gain some sort of purchase. "I couldn’t stop now if I tried," he panted. "Jesus Christ, where did you learn to move like that?" He yelped as I brought my knees up almost to my chest and he propped himself up on both fists, then grabbed my hands, pinned me down onto the bed and drove into me harder still. His head dropped and through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw he asked, "Is that good? Is that how you like it? You like the way I fuck you—" Nearly there myself, the constant friction between his thick cock and my swollen G-spot had me desperate for release from the growing tension, like I was going to burst or explode like a firework at any moment. But I knew...I just knew that if I started speaking while he fucked me this hard, this deep, this fast, this close to orgasm, I’d get carried away, unleash a tirade of filth that wouldn’t end until the last quiver had died away. "Oh...oh fuck yes—" "Again. Say it again, baby." The tingling, the rippling began and I grabbed him round the waist, begged him not to stop. From the crescendo to nearly at the peak so rapidly, and I came, and I screamed at him to come inside me. And his hands were in my hair again, his skin gliding over mine as we moved in the same rhythm, gathering speed, losing what little vestiges of control we had left. "Don’t... oh God, please don’t stop...oh fuck, Leo, I—" 89

And when he asked if he could let go, from somewhere outside my own body I heard myself scream yes, and yes, and yes.

90

Ten As I wrapped the towel around myself I caught sight of a mark on my shoulder; not too dark, only a slight discoloration, but a bruise nonetheless. Prodding with the tip of one finger to see how much it hurt, I discovered it wasn’t too bad. Discomfort, not pain. He’d been enthusiastic, not brutal. Pale yellow, not livid black or red. Barely noticeable. Only my post-sex scrutiny had caught it and as it was on my shoulder, it would be masked by whatever clothing I chose to wear as long as it wasn’t a vest or strapless top. I wondered if I had marks anywhere else; bruises or bites perhaps, but the only real evidence of the previous night I truly felt was a rawness between my legs. "Hey, gorgeous, you done in there?" Leo asked when I emerged from the bathroom. He wore nothing but shorts and a handsome display of tattoos. Leaning against the wall outside my bathroom with his arms crossed, his biceps bulged ever so slightly and gave me pause. No, Piper. You need to get dressed. And he wants to have a shower. "Bathroom’s free. I’ve left plenty of spare towels in there." As I walked past him—or tried to—he caught my arm and whispered, "You know, you really should have waited. We could have showered together." "Now that would have wasted a lot of time, wouldn’t it?" I smirked over my shoulder, not shaking him off. "Wasted?" His eyebrows lifted. "I can’t think of a better way to spend my time." 91

"I’ll be in the kitchen. What would you like for breakfast?" "Look." He stepped closer and the way he whispered in my ear made his breath tickle the bare skin of my neck, the towel around my head leaving it exposed. "When I said I wanted to eat something, I didn’t mean... food." He drew back and looked at me for no more than a split second and vanished into the bathroom. For that split second I’d believed he might have pulled me in with him. Leaning against the kitchen countertop waiting for the kettle to boil, I rummaged through my handbag. Leo had seen me without makeup first thing in the morning and had still made his intentions clear so the sight of my lip gloss, concealer and mascara didn’t make me feel as naked as I usually did the morning after the night before. He’d seen me completely naked and acted on his intentions several times. Including first thing this morning. Total? I’d lost count. Sighing with contentment though still with some residual desire as yet unfulfilled, I checked my mobile for messages. And messages came there many. My heart dropped through the floor of my stomach. A number of texts from a variety of people, but three from Andrew. No doubt he’d never heard the saying never drink and dial. Or in this case, never tipple and text. I read the first one and deleted it. The second, or at least the first line of it, and deleted that too. The third started with a profanity which grabbed my attention. Andrew had sworn before; I’d sworn back. So it wasn’t so much the use of the word ‘fuck’ that shocked me as its random appearance after a couple of fairly bland messages. From that, to this. Fuck, Piper. What’s with not answering the phone? Do I have to come 'round there to make you speak to me? I dropped the phone on the countertop as if he’d just appeared in the room, even looking over my shoulder as if I expected him to materialize in the doorway. Nothing. Of course there was nothing. I was alone. Apart from Leo in my bathroom, using up what was left of 92

the hot water, scrubbing away the depravity from his tattooed frame. Biting my lip, I looked down at the phone and jumped, startled, when something clicked. Only the kettle coming to the boil. It had been the word ‘alone’ that increased my feelings of guilt as if Andrew would somehow know I was with someone and had the right to make me feel bad about this. Guilt rippled the pit of my stomach and evolved into fear, for some unknown reason. It wasn’t as if Leo was even the first person I’d slept with since the split. I worried at my bottom lip with my tooth, wondering whether I should reply to any of those messages, though there was the possibility Andrew would take any form of communication as encouragement. The first message had been sent a few hours before, so he’d probably been drunk, restless, unable to sleep and angry at something. Having failed to pull, perhaps? The second, around half an hour later. Obviously still stewing over my lack of reply. The third, an hour and a half before. He’d either stayed up all night thinking about how much I’d pissed him off by failing to reply instantly to his overtures, or fallen asleep and woken up still annoyed. I clicked reply then exited the text message menu before thinking again. If he’d sent his last message the night before I wouldn’t have thought twice about ignoring it and would have just assumed he’d slept off his ire, but the fact it had lasted all night, up until a time when I’d been screwing Leo for the umpteenth time, made me wonder if he really was serious about speaking to me this time. What to say? Stay away? Would that work? The main reason I hesitated was concern about Andrew replying while I was still with... him. Then I realized; I was never going to see ‘him’ again so it didn’t really matter what he thought of me or any dramas going on in my life. Sure, I could switch the phone off but I wanted to monitor Andrew’s state of mind as best I could through his messages, if he sent any in reply. Petulance I could cope with; anger wasn’t good. Not that I worried about what he might do to me any more; he wasn’t 93

that scary. I’d just get frustrated if he showed up at my home or continued to pester me every bloody weekend. I don’t know why you keep bugging me on the weekend. Were you drunk or something? Delete. Any questions would be taken as encouragement to engage in conversation. No; this had to be short, sweet and authoritative. I’m getting annoyed at you bugging me every weekend. I’m allowed to have a life of my own and I’d enjoy it more if you left me the fuck alone— No, still not right. Your weekend antics are getting a little old. Crowding me is so not a good idea. "Fuck it, why not?" I whispered, and clicked ‘send’, instantly regretting it. Probably not the best idea I’d ever had but I’d just spent the night with a gorgeous, energetic stranger, and felt good about myself. Andrew couldn’t do anything to hurt or harm me. My phone beeped again before I’d finished making my morning mug of coffee. Although Leo had helped me sweat all the alcohol out of my system I still felt rough, tired and dehydrated; the only cure for such a feeling was a shower and caffeine. Lots of caffeine. Instant coffee in a cheap mug. What’s getting old is you not talking to me. You’ll have to talk to me at some point. I declined to reply to this latest. Andrew had never crowded me before; irritated, yes, but crowded? No. But this... this was getting more than a little overbearing. I wasn’t scared of him. I didn’t think he was anything approaching a stalker, but I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t leave me alone. "That’s breakfast, is it?" Laughter behind me as I jumped. "I’m not that scary am I?" I spun round and my breath caught. I’d seen him from all angles, touched him everywhere, hell, even tasted him in most places, and the sight of him fresh from the shower, one of my bath towels wrapped around his waist, made my heart skip. He’d dried himself so there were no droplets of water running over his muscles or tattoos, but still... "Jesus, you should have seen how high you jumped!" 94

He grinned and moved towards me. "Is that your idea of breakfast? Coffee? Or is it tea?" "Coffee. Instant." He made a face. "Fuck; no wonder you’re so thin if that’s all you have in the morning. Is it still morning by the way? I left my phone in a pocket... somewhere..." "Yeah, it is. Just." I nodded towards my phone on the countertop in front of me. "Ah. Checking your messages, eh?" "Want some coffee? Or tea? Something to eat?" He came closer still and tugged at the fold in my towel where I’d tucked one end in to keep it wrapped around my chest. "I do feel a bit hungry." A droplet of water ran down the side of his face and he used the hand towel draped around his neck to wipe it away. He rubbed at his hair with the towel and the bed head effect, the way it spiked up randomly, reminded me of the way his hair had looked the night before; messed up in an effortlessly stylish way. "I just had a shower and you’re planning on getting me all sweaty again?" "Not exactly." His eyes crinkled up at the corners. "I was planning on doing all the work." "Jesus." His energy astonished me. If he hadn’t been lucid all night, coherent and understandable, I would have thought he was on something. I turned my cheek as he bent to kiss me, acting coy after hours of depravity. Sipped my coffee, prayed it would steady my nerves. Him standing so close, hands resting on my waist, made me tremble. His very presence overwhelmed me. I twisted my back to him, drained my coffee mug, set it on the countertop and let my gaze fall on my mobile phone. "Hey..." His hands touched my waist through the towel and squeezed a yelp out of me. "Ooh, you make that noise when I touch you in other places too." "Really?" "Yes, especially when I touch your—" My phone rang. "Do you always jump that high when someone calls?" "I wasn’t expecting anyone to..." But that was a lie. I had been. 95

"Who is it?" "No one important." "You’re not going to answer it?" His entire body stiffened behind me. "Is it a boyfriend? ‘Cause if I’ve just fucked a girl who’s already taken..." "No, you haven’t. I’m not. I told you when we met that I’m single and I am." "Oh, thank fuck for that," he breathed as the ringing stopped. In a few seconds, I knew, my phone would beep again with a voicemail alert. When I turned around, Leo wasn’t smiling. "It was my ex, Andrew. He texts occasionally. Well, more than occasionally. But..." I shrugged. "It’s tiring. Avoiding him. I don’t mean to be rude, but... what can I do?" Leo’s brow furrowed. "I have an idea." He nibbled at his bottom lip and gazed into the middle distance. "Give me your phone." "Uh... what?" He didn’t hold his hand out. He expected me to hand it over, not to have to take it from me. "Gimme your phone." "Why?" "Just do as you’re told." "Neanderthal." "Oh come on, love, if I were a Neanderthal I’d throw you on the bed and fuck you ‘til you screamed. Oh. Wait a minute..." He chuckled. I slapped the phone into his outstretched hand. "Now what?" "Now you hush up and let me take care of this." "Ooh, so manly." "Quiet, woman." He slid my phone open. "You all right?" "Yeah. Yeah, sure. Don’t mind me." "Do you dare me?" I laughed out loud. If nothing else, he was fun. "Okay then... whatever you’re about to do," and I had my strong suspicions, "I dare you." "Andrew, you said?" he murmured, frowning in concentration as he studied my phone. "Andrew, Andrew...Jesus, woman, you’ve got more Andrews in here than... than a... well, a place where you get loads of 96

Andrews. Lessee... Andy Benson. Andrew Stevens. Wait, this’ll be him, I’m guessing. Andrew the Cunt?" Folding my arms, I challenged him with my eyes. "Right." He held the phone to his ear while using the other hand to scrub dry his hair. The towel-tousled effect made him look even hotter in my view and if he was using my mobile to call my ex and cause trouble in my life even though I’d never see him again, then... well, he was hot. So he got away with it. "Hell— what? Uh... whoa, whoa, buddy. Hold the fuck up. Let me speak... Huh? I’m using her phone because Piper let me." Pause. "Jesus, woman. Your ex has got a potty mouth. I thought I could swear and I’m fucking Irish. Dude. Dude, shut the fuck up and let me speak!" His jaw clenched and if Andrew had been in the room I liked to think Leo would have punched him. For no earthly reason other than he just plain deserved it. "Right. Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to say a few words, hmm? Yes? Good." Deep breath. "I’m reliably informed by Piper that she’s tiring of your regular communiqués and really, it’s a bit of a passion killer, being interrupted, so..." I clamped both hands over my mouth to smother a snort of laughter. "Well," he continued. "If you don’t believe what I’m saying, I can repeat myself? No, didn’t think you would. Listen. I don’t usually play the caveman—" At this he winked. "I just think, when you’re texting and calling someone who’s made their lack of interest plain, it’s a bit... how shall I put this... it’s ungentlemanly, you know?" The calmness of his voice unnerved me somewhat. Like the calm before the storm. "Yeah, yeah. I hear you. But Piper doesn’t seem to agree. And given how enthusiastic she was about our coupling last night, I’d be willing to hazard a guess on where her loyalties lie. And listen, dude. I can’t believe you let that one slip. For fuck’s sake, all you have to do is crook your fingers. Beckon a little, you know? Gently circle with the heel of your hand..." He closed his eyes and swallowed. Shook himself back to life. "Huh? Oh. Yeah." Leo rubbed his eyes then grimaced at something Andrew said. "I’m just saying... no, I’m asking. Politely, on Piper’s behalf, if you would 97

kindly... back away. She feels crowded." Our gazes met and I nodded. Yes. He may have been having his fun; he clearly was getting into his stride, but there was more truth in his words than his playful demeanor would at first suggest. I did feel crowded. I didn’t like that I was using another man to get the message across but all other methods had failed. "Um, yes. I did. Not that that’s any of your business, but I’m only telling you that I stayed over at her house last night to make you realize she’s moved on. Dude, I don’t want to be cruel, but..." With my hands still in front of my mouth but now in the more refined ‘prayer’ position, palm to palm, I nodded in encouragement. "You what...?" Leo shook his head slowly, his jaw set. When he finally regained the ability to speak, his jocular tone sounded forced, artificial. As if his ‘act’ was slipping. "That’s way out of... oh, really? Well, I’m afraid that’s out of the question." He visibly cringed, screwing his eyes shut and coloring slightly. Holding the phone away from his ear, he shook his head and muttered, "Out of the question? What the fuck am I thinking? What century is this?" His gaze met mine and he looked sheepish. "Andrew? Unfortunately Piper is unable to come to the phone right now... Um, well you see...she has her mouth full." Leo’s gaze never wavered from mine as he added, "Of my nuts." My stomach ached with barely restrained laughter. Leo frowned then, and I thought the expression was directed at me before noticing the lack of focus in his eyes; he stared into the middle distance as if there was nothing in front of him. Shaking his head slowly, he tutted once. "You really need to stop using that kind of language. Because I told you to, that’s why! For someone who used to care about her, you’re—oh, really? Well you’re not acting like it, are you? Dude, don’t make me angry... no, you can’t. No. Let me tell you here and now that really isn’t a good idea." "What?" I whispered, loud enough for Leo to hear, not loud enough for Andrew to catch. I hoped. "What did he say?" Leo held his palm up in an ‘allow me to concentrate’ gesture, patting the air gently as if telling me to calm down, 98

not worry. "I really don’t think Piper would want you to do that. It’s her house after all. Look, I’m not stopping her from coming to the phone; the fact she hasn’t taken it off me tells you a lot, doesn’t it? Okay, I’m six foot one but I’m not the sort of guy who would stop Piper taking what she wanted from me." He winked and his infectious enthusiasm made me want to laugh out loud; instead I had to settle for a subdued, more discreet giggle. "Hey, now, did you miss what I just said? I’m six foot one. And even though your ex tore a few of my muscles last night I like to think I’m not too shabby when it comes to standing up for myself and defending, uh, a lady’s honor." The desperation not to snigger was obvious as he pressed his lips together, avoided my gaze and shook his head. "Oh, didn’t I mention? You can probably tell. I’m Irish. I can handle myself. No, look. You really don’t want to do that— Are you crazy? I mean really? Are you on crack? Look, I’m Irish so I’m drunk a lot but I’d never try... yeah, well, you’re welcome to, mate. I’ll let her know. Yeah. Yeah, ‘bye now. Have a nice day, ye fuckin’ gobshite." "Wow." I stared at Leo as he ended the call and set the phone down on the worktop beside me. "I hope I haven’t used up all your credit or minutes on that call." "No, no. I have plenty of minutes left this month. Anyway," I added with a shrug, "it was worth it to hear all that. You really looked like you were enjoying yourself." "Yeah, I love making fun of dumb animals. It was almost too easy. Like shooting fish in a barrel. But did you really go out with him? What a fucking douche." "Yes I did." "Were you on crack? He’s... he’s just... he’s got no manners." "That’s not all..." "What do you mean?" "Oh, nothing..." "Piper." On his lips my name was a low growl, a warning not to mess with him. "Just..." "Pipes." "I don’t want this to sound like I’m trying to get him in 99

trouble with a guy who’s already defended my honor... well, what little I have left, and..." "What is it? Something about Andrew?" "Yeah." I frowned, clueless as to why I was opening up like this. "We have split up; you do believe me?" "Sure, sure. Go on." "Well, the night I finished with him, he did this." I clenched my fist at my side and released it. Unsure whether or not Leo had caught it, I did it again and his eyes flashed. "He hit you?" "No, no. He just did that." I nodded down at my hand. "As if he was thinking about it. So... That’s why we broke up. He’d thrown things before but never raised his hands to me, and I didn’t want... oh God, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but... there you go. His bad manners wasn’t the half of it." "Hmm. He really is a twat." "Leo." His name made my tongue prickle, even now. Crossing my arms over my chest, I did my best to stare him out, but as he’d pointed out to Andrew, he was six foot one— in his bare feet— and much bigger than me. "What?" " Tell me what Andrew said to get you so riled." "Jesus, Piper..." He turned away, stroking his chin. "Look, what I will say is this." He faced me again, held one arm to his waist and held the other hand palm up in a gesture of please believe me supplication. "That man... what’s his surname?" "Kincaid." "Kincaid. Right. Well that man, Andrew Kincaid, is no gentleman. You’re well rid of him." "Could’ve told you that." I pressed my lips together while I gave the matter some thought. I clearly wasn’t going to get an answer out of Leo and maybe, maybe I didn’t really want to know. Knowing Andrew as I did, I could guess it was something deeply ungentlemanly and resigned myself to not finding out for sure. I didn’t know whether to be touched, smothered or irritated. In reality was probably a little of all three. He inclined his head. "Yeah. You’re definitely too much for a cock like Andrew." 100

"Try telling him that." "I did. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t listen." "And you wouldn’t tell me what he said?" "Not all of it, no. I want to save your pretty little virgin ears." He didn’t move except for an almost imperceptible parting of the lips and a whispering inhalation. "What?" No reply. "What?" Still nothing. "Leo!" "He is rather keen to speak to you, y’know." "So I gathered. The line where you told him my mouth was full of your nuts was a give away." "Yeah, I liked that one. I’ve always got time for a blow job, me. Well, apart from now." "You have to go?" I could’ve kicked myself, prayed I hadn’t sounded too clingy. "Oh well." "I meant we don’t have time for a blow job, as attractive as the thought is right now. We wouldn’t want Andrew walking in on us. Although... he might get the message then. He, uh... was pretty keen to see you, too, if you wouldn’t talk to him on the phone." "Leo... what have you done?" "Me? Nothing!" He held up both palms. "You were there. You heard every word I said!" "Yes, but I didn’t hear every word he said, did I?" "No. No, you didn’t. That’s true." He again inclined his head and tugged at his earlobe. "Has he, uh, got keys to this place?" "Hell no! How much of an idiot do you think I—now wait a minute. What else did he say?" "Oh nothing, nothing. And don’t say Leo in that way again. He said he was gonna come over." "What! When?" He shrugged. "Dunno. He just said I’m coming over. I assumed he meant now. Does he live far away? Has he got a car?" "A couple of miles across town. And no." "Well that buys you some time. Unless he gets a taxi." "Fuck." 101

"Love to, darlin’, but it looks like me taking the piss out of your ex has got him all fired up. Sorry, like. I was just..." "Oh, don’t worry about it." I waved my hand dismissively and groaned. "I’ll just ignore the door. You’d better head off if you want to avoid him." This wasn’t the way I wanted us to part company. "You’ll have to take a rain check on that blow job." "Hmm." He ran a finger over his mouth, pouting as he dragged his bottom lip. "Hmm? What’s ‘hmm’?" "Only... I have an idea. It involves you in a state I’m not too keen on personally... I mean, you’d have to put some clothes on, but...Your needle-dick ex is on his way over here, possibly as we speak, right?" "How do you know he’s got a needle-dick?" "He talks like a man with a tiny cock. He’s on his way over, yeah? And you don’t want to see him. So. You pull some clothes on, dry your hair or brush it or whatever it is you women do after a shower, and..." "And...?" I prompted archly. "We scoot over to my place for a rematch." "Ah." I gulped. A feeling of potentiality washed over me. As if I was being offered a choice which ran deeper than Leo’s mere words. You, Piper Holt, my inner voice said, are at a crossroads. "Well?" he prompted. I reached up to pull the towel off my hair and my damp hair tumbled around my shoulders. Brushing it out of my eyes, I stared at him once I had a clear line of sight again. "Guess I should go get ready."

102

Eleven Leo stepped across the threshold of his loft apartment and looked back. "Well? Aren’t you coming in?" "I don’t know," I murmured. Our worlds now blended. He’d been in my home, I was about to enter his. This was how people got entangled. Attached. I shuddered. "Somebody just walk over your grave?" he teased, and indicated with a twitch of his head the apartment behind him. "Go on, get in. Or would you like me to carry your bag for you?" "Yeah, after I got it from the taxi into the lift and up here, now you offer to carry it." "I know how precious women are about their belongings. Or maybe it’s you who wants carrying over?" he slipped an arm around my waist but I dodged out of his way. "What do you think this is, a honeymoon?" "If it was, it’s a bit late for all that romantic shite. The consummation’s already happened." He swatted me on the backside as I walked past. "Next time I get married, remind me to stay away from the Guinness and look for someone compatible," he muttered. "Hey! I didn’t think we were that bad!" Looking around his loft apartment, I had the feeling if I raised my voice any more it would’ve echoed under the near cathedral height ceiling. Whitewash covered three walls which made the room even more cavernous. The fourth wall had been painted in a pale blue shade while its chimney breast was the same color, 103

but painted in a thicker stain, not watered down. A freestanding birdcage stood between two Southfacing windows overlooking the river. Light flooded in, showing up the cleanliness of each surface. No dust motes on the highly polished coffee table in front of the fire built into the chimney breast, no coffee mug rings either. Letting my gaze flicker over to the marble worktops in a far corner of the room, I wondered if his kitchen had been taken care of with as much time and effort as his living quarters. He probably has a cleaner. If he can afford a place like this, there’s little doubt he’d forego the pleasures of household chores and splash out on a ‘woman who does’. "We," Leo said, whispering into my shoulder, "were perfect." I tried not to inhale his scent and let my eyes close while I breathed him in. Barely succeeded. I didn’t have much self-control where Leo Carson was concerned. "Then... what...?" I breathed, frowning, wondering if he’d been about to say something. "Compatibility’s very important, don’t you think?" he asked in an upbeat tone, straightening and shoving his hands deep into his trouser pockets. "In bed as well as out." "Yes, but..." "Come on. I’ll give you the guided tour." He beamed, looking for all the world like a cheeky little boy showing off his latest toys. "Not much to show off, is there? It’s all one room. I can see everything." "Hey, play along while I’m showing off! And you can’t see everything; the bathroom’s through that door there. Certain rooms need a little privacy." "Including the bedroom?" There was no bed in sight and I assumed it was up the flight of stairs running up one wall. The door to which Leo had pointed seconds before was under these stairs. "That’s what the mezzanine’s for," he said, pointing up. "We’ll start there. Who wouldn’t want to show off the most important room? Right, come on." "Um... where should I leave my bag? In fact, should I take my shoes off?" 104

"What the hell for?" He looked me up and down. Mostly down, focusing on my legs. "You know, visiting someone else’s place. Polite to take your shoes off and all that jazz." "Good God woman, I’m not that house proud. Besides, I happen to like those legs in stilettos." "Not house proud? This place is immaculate!" In truth, the thought of my own home humbled me. It was nowhere near as glamorous as this. Clean and tidy, yes, but...not in this league. Leo Carson lived in a different kind of home and a different world. "You can dump your bag on the bed," he said. "And walk up the stairs in front of me, I want to get an eyeful of your arse." "Good." I swallowed. "Uh, I mean good about the stilettos. Not my arse. I never get the chance to wear heels at work so I choose to mangle my feet as much as possible in my spare time." Carrying my bag, I led the way up the stairs and just before turning away I caught an expression of approval as his gaze swept over my legs. Again. "What do you do? For work I mean?" he asked and when I looked over my shoulder I caught the same look on his face. "If you don’t wear heels at work I’m assuming you’re not a lap dancer?" "Do I look like a lap dancer to you?" Pause, while he chuckled. "Don’t answer that. I’m..." I reached the top of the stairs and swallowed a gasp, not wanting to make my admiration manifest. I was twentyfour; too old to be a fan girl or groupie. Not that I’d expected a four-poster but this bed was grand enough. King size, it faced the mezzanine’s balcony and the ceiling-height windows in the main room beyond. Bracketed by narrow bedside tables, it nestled—if such a large bed could nestle—below an uncovered skylight in the sloping roof. "You’re...?" His hand on the small of my back and I jumped. Startled, something inside me skipped, speeding up when he spoke again. "What are you?" To give myself more thinking time I took a deep breath and released it slowly, hoping it sounded more like a sigh than a groan. Such grandeur in these surroundings in 105

comparison to my own, and the knowledge that whatever he did for a living it had to be higher up the career ladder than my humble job title of— "Waitress." I couldn’t keep the groan in any longer. "I’m..." "A waitress?" His eyebrows lifted as he circled me before stopping directly in front and looking me in the eye. Discomfited by his scrutiny, I wanted to cross my arms across my chest and I would have, had I been unencumbered by my overnight bag. Instead, I settled for dangling it from my clasped hands behind my back, leaving my chest vulnerable to him. "Uh... yes." "Is there something embarrassing about being a waitress?" Why yes, now you come to mention it. The fact I’m living in a one-bedroom rented flat on my own and probably earn in a year a tenth of what you pull in, in a month, doing whatever it is that you do, oh and by the way, I don’t have a car so I walk or bus to work and I don’t have a bed like that or a settee suite or a television... "No." "No." Even though I couldn’t bear to look at him for longer than a millisecond at a time I still detected an unmistakable smirk in his voice. As much as I didn’t want to look him in the eye, I did want to look at him. "Hmm." He too held his hands behind his back and this mirror image of me lessened my discomfort. "You’re blushing." "I am not." "How the hell would you know? I’m the one who’s looking at you, Piper." He stepped forward and I barely resisted the urge to step back, knowing that I wouldn’t get away from him. Not if his mind was set on making me jittery and his proximity did that. His arms snaked around my waist under the twist of my own and his breath warmed my forehead as he spoke. This I could handle. Words spoken against my skin, rather than underlined by his intense stare. Physical intimacy was far preferable to him taking a step back but still being there, studying me with eyes full of intent. "You can’t say I’m the only waitress you know." "It’s not so strange an occupation is it?" 106

"It’s...common, isn’t it?" His Adam’s apple rippled his throat when he swallowed. "That’s what concerns you." A statement, not an enquiry. No point arguing with it or trying to punch line my way out of it. "Why?" What the hell am I supposed to say to that? To admit I was reluctant to discuss my relatively low status in the job market would be tantamount to admitting yes, I’d compared myself to him. I’d weighed myself in the balance and found my side wanting. Money was a crude thing to talk about and he obviously had more than me, but despite this being obvious, I wasn’t sure if acknowledging what I’d noticed was a step too far. A shrug, to buy myself another moment. "No reason. It’s just one of those things. I’m a waitress. It’s my job. Not... not very glamorous is it?" He made a moue with his lips as if caught somewhere between a smile and a desire to kiss me. "Do you have a uniform in that bag of yours?" He hadn’t been in the room with me when I’d shoved a few overnight things into the holdall and I’d been grateful that he hadn’t seen my work tunic; a button-up, knee-length affair made of the ghastliest material. But he might have been pleased with the design. All black, with a scalloped collar in white and an accompanying white apron. Very French maid. Leo Carson was the type to see something dirty in that, and love it. "Yes, I do have a uniform in there—" "Can I—" "No, you can’t see it." "What! Jesus, you’re a hard woman, Piper Holt." "And you’re a hard man, Leo Carson." "Well. I wouldn’t say I’m priapic by any means, but I like to think I’m always up for action. What color's the uniform?" "Black." "And does it have—" "Yes. It has a little white apron and a lacy white collar." "Do you have to wear a—" "No, we don’t have to wear a French maid’s cap although we do have to wear our hair up." 107

"Damn it. But how did you know what I was going to ask?" "I might only have known you a short time, overnight if we’re talking knowing someone in the Biblical sense, but I’ve got a feel for the way your mind works." "I think you’re accusing me of being a pervert." "I may very well be." "So you’re telling me as your work uniform you have to dress up as a French maid and take orders—" At this he snorted with laughter. "—from members of the public?" I rolled my eyes. "Yes." "Bloody hell. I think you might be my ideal woman. This is even better than you being a lap dancer." "I never was a lap dancer." "You seemed to do pretty well in my lap last n—" "Leo. Where should I leave my bag?" "Oh, just dump it by the bed. We can play dress up later." "No. We won’t be playing dress up." I swear his face fell when I said that and I had to explain it wasn’t my lack of desire or my personal morality which forbade dressing up. "I work in a foodie environment. I take my uniform home to wash it but can only get changed when I go back there, so I don’t pick up any germs outside the workplace and carry them in." "Or any untoward stains?" he teased and the twinkle in his eyes gave him an irresistibly mischievous look. "Only you could say something so disgusting and make it sound..." "Sexy?" he prompted. "Admit it. You’re turned on." "By you threatening to leave stains all over my work uniform? Sure. You’d get me the sack." "I do have a washing machine, you know. Any untoward marks could easily be washed out overnight. In fact, why don’t you take everything off; we can stick your clothes in the washing machine. Freshen them up." "Are you saying between my shower this morning and the ten minute taxi drive over here, my clothes have become so dirty you have to tear them off me?" "Definitely. You’re a very dirty girl. Okay, I admit. It’s just an excuse to see you naked again." 108

"As if Leo Carson needs an excuse." "You’re learning, girl. I like you. I like the way you think." "And I’m thinking..." I extricated myself from his arms and his aura by moving over to the bed, dropping my bag on the floor and tossing my denim jacket on top of it. He didn’t make a move towards me; just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking at me. Waiting for me to open up. "Yes...? Tell me what you’re thinking. Unless you expect me to read your filthy little mind?" "How do you know I’m thinking something dirty?" "It bloody better be or I’m disappointed in you, Piper Holt." "I was just thinking...you’re the one who’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes. You’ve..." My voice trailed away as a vision flashed before my eyes. You’re the one who fucked me up against my front door in that shirt. "You’re the one who needs to..." "I need to...?" Though nervous, I couldn’t help but smile. Or maybe my smile was because of my nerves. "You ought to drop ‘em, Carson." He gave a sharp bark of laughter, throwing his head back. "You have such a way with words." He shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on the floor where he stood. "Well, you’ve taken your coat off so it’s only fair I should remove mine. Your turn." "I don’t think so." "What—?" He cocked his head, widening his eyes as he did so and I swear he looked impressed by my answering back. As if he was more than willing to rise to the challenge. "Tit for tat. Come on. I’ve taken something off. Now it’s your turn." "I’m wearing clean clothes. It’s you who should strip and put everything in the machine. I mean, Leo, think of what you’ve done while wearing those clothes." "I am. Oh believe you me, honey, I am." He held his hands in front of him, palm to palm, as if praying... or plotting. "But if you want me to take any of this lot off, you’re going to have to come over here and make me." "I’m the one nearest the bed, so it seems more 109

sensible that you—" I pointed. "—should come over here to me." I crooked my pointing finger and beckoned. As if magnetically drawn, he obeyed and a shiver, not even a shiver, but a fizz of electricity, a spark, ran up my spine at my apparent power. I let out a quiet laugh, a single "Ha," when he stopped right in front of me, close enough to touch. Or kiss. "If I can make you come with my finger imagine what I could do with my tongue." His lips twitched but he didn’t smile, merely closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply, as if breathing in my scent and the world froze. "You know." He breathed against my face and I swallowed back a clotted twist of desire and nervousness. "I really, really don’t like it when you don’t do what you’re told." "I thought you liked the way I think?" "I like it when you understand that I have an insane need to screw the living daylights out of you, not when you think you can decide when, or where, or in which position." I half turned my back but his arm shot out so fast and clamped me against him that he drove the air out of my body in a breathless whoosh, a grunt of surprise on my part. "Sometimes you act like a coy little girl and sometimes you..." He gulped. "Sometimes you make me want to put you over my knee." "You’re into spanking too?" I smiled over my shoulder and when his hand pulled up the hem of the skirt I’d deliberately chosen to wear that day for its shortness and ran over my buttock beneath the cotton of my briefs, my breath stopped. And that breath hovered, fed on my desire and expanded, pushing my breasts out, straining against my nipples, scratched against my bra, made my ribcage ache. "I’m into lots of things," Leo said. He slid both hands into the narrow waistband of my briefs and inched them down, giving my backside a squeeze as he did so. "You stay where you are," he ordered when I tried to twist round at the waist. I couldn’t do anything; he had me trapped. Behind me, he knelt; hot breath on the back of my thighs and thumbs caressing the backs of my knees. "Fuck." "What?" "I never knew—" My breath snagged against my 110

ribcage again and I had to pause before retrying, a near impossible task when his thumbs moved back and forth over my skin. "I never knew the backs of my knees could be an erogenous zone before." "You like it?" "Yes, I..." Of course I do. I can’t see straight. I’d fall over if you weren’t right behind me. A sly chuckle and his hands moved down again. "You’re keeping your heels on," he said as I stepped out of my briefs, my shoes clacking on the floor once, twice, as I did so. His hands slid back up my legs and he stood, grabbing a hold of my backside, squeezing it gently and pulling me against him, his erection pressing through the fabric of his clothing. "The rest of it you can keep on—" "Oh can I?" I interrupted, stung by the resultant slap on my buttock. "Jesus woman, what do I have to do to make you shut up?" His hands around my waist, thumbs pressing into the small of my back right on my sweet spot, and my legs nearly buckled beneath me. He must have felt the swaying because he held on even tighter for a second then told me, "Move." Beat. "Over." Another beat. "Bend over." He gave me a gentle shove and I did, let myself topple, managing to keep my arms locked so there wasn’t far to move before I broke my fall with my hands outstretched. I screwed my eyes shut when I heard a zipper. A drawer. The tear of foil. The quiet, "Fuck. This damn thing." Probably only a second later, he sighed, letting out a quiet, "Thank Christ," and took hold of my hip with one hand. I could only guess at what the other was doing. I tried to push back onto him but wearing heels and propping myself up over his mattress I had no room for manoeuvre; my centre of gravity was thrown too far forward. His other hand kneaded my buttock, his thumb trailing lightly over my pussy lips. Again I tried to push back. Again I couldn’t. "Leo." "Ssh." I’d expected his voice to be more forceful. I’d expected his hands to be so, too. And his cock. But he still wasn’t inside me. And his voice was no more than a gentle hiss. "Leo." 111

"Ssh. Don’t say it." "I want..." I wasn’t even looking at him; why couldn’t I tell him what I wanted? "I know, baby. I know exactly what you want. But just wait. I’m enjoying looking at you first." "Just..." I could only finish off the sentence in my head. Just do it. Now. Don’t make me wait. Just put it in me, for the love of— "Leo, just—" "Don’t say it. Don’t say my name." "What? I—" "Not like this. You’re not to say my name until you come when I’m looking you in the eye." "Oh—!" Supporting my weight on one hand, I punched the mattress with the other in frustration. I wasn’t allowed to say his name, he wasn’t inside me yet—how much more did he expect me to endure? He laughed under his breath, said louder, "I want to look you in the eyes when you come." The tip of his cock grazed my pussy lips and my hips did their best to angle back onto him. "Does that mean..." Jesus, Piper, why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep starting to say something and then bottling out? "Does that mean what?" He pushed inside me just an inch, just enough to make me want to pull him in deeper, not enough to hit my G-spot. "Come on, I’ll stop if you don’t tell me. You want me to carry on, then you have to as well." "Does that mean I’m not allowed to come now?" "Oh come on, Piper—do you think I’d be that cruel? Do you think I’d be crazy enough to push my cock into you this slowly and not let you come?" "You’re..." Breathe. "Capable of anything." "All I said was you’re not supposed to say my name like that, as if you’re begging me to make you come, until I’m railing you a different way. Because the next time I make you come with my name on your lips, I want to be able to look you in the eye when you say it." "Fuck!" "There’s nothing I’d like more," he said, grunting as he pushed another inch or two into me, the friction against the swell of my G-spot making me yelp. "And don’t act like you 112

don’t know plenty of other things to say, because..." He pulled out. Slowly. "I’ve heard you." And slid back in. Even slower. "I bet you could think of plenty of things to say when I do this..." He reached around my waist with one hand and flicked my clit with the tip of his finger. Just once. "Jesus fucking Christ!" "There you go. I told you." He pushed in deeper and my pussy clenched around him, desperate for him to move quicker. But he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Must have known how much I wanted him. So gently he barely touched me, he moved his finger over my clit, laughing when I struggled to move back. But his other hand on my waist stopped me doing anything without his allowing it. "Oh... God..." In between words, I panted, my breathing shallower with each minuscule increase in pressure from his hand. He didn’t fuck me; he just played with my clit while his cock was inside me. "I can’t... I want..." "What?" His finger didn’t miss a beat as he spoke, but his hips inched forward, nearly but not quite filling me up. "I can’t move," I blurted out, my voice desperate, sounding on the verge of tears. He nudged the back of my leg with his knee, and in my weakened state, I fell forward so in an instant my feet came off the floor and I knelt on his bed, backside in the air and he was still inside me but not far enough. Once I had my breath back, probably only a second later but it felt like eons, I told him, "Let me." "Let you touch yourself?" He moved his hand away, to the top of my thigh but, now able to move slightly more freely than before, I grabbed it and forced it back to where it had been. "No." Given the dizziness spinning the inside of my head it was a wonder I managed to string a coherent sentence together. "I meant this." I rocked backwards, taking more of his cock inside me, my lips parting in a silent gasp as he filled me up. My pussy was so sensitive at that point, white sparks flashed behind my eyes as the contours of his cock moved against my G-spot. His fingers moved against my clit as the lowest of moans and a whisper of "Jesus," escaped him. "You have no 113

idea how good that feels. You have no idea what a turn on this is. Christ. I can feel every inch of your—" His voice jumped up a note and despite the white light behind my eyes, the ripples along my spine, I still managed to translate his arrested speech as caught breath, the beginnings of a desperate need to move faster. "I wish you could see this." A moan escaped me when I tried to speak. It took another attempt before I managed to force out, "Tell me." "Every time you move back, your p—" There it was again, that break, that catch, as he spoke in time with my movements. "Your pussy pulls me in even tighter and, and every time you move forward I see how wet you are. Jesus, you—ah," he breathed, grabbing my hips with both hands and forcing himself in as deep as he’d go in one thrust. He stayed there for a second and I was glad he gave me that single second to catch my breath because any more movement would have been so pleasurable it would have hurt. "I really can’t decide if I want to fuck you slowly or hold you down and rail you as hard as I can." His thumbs grazed the small of my back and I whimpered. Gone. Completely gone. Whatever he’d done to me at that point I would have taken it and thanked him for the privilege. "What do you think?" Water rose in front of my already clouded vision, one single tear spilling onto my face when Leo eased back and forward, again grazing my G-spot, this time more forcefully than last. "Piper?" I couldn’t think straight when he moved inside me while touching my back in exactly the right spot to make me cry. I’d never known up to that point that my eyes could water so badly prior to orgasm but Jesus, he knew how to draw it out of me. "Piper, what do you think?" His thumbs pressed into my back as his cock pushed harder. He stopped moving back and forth, merely circled his hips while he was inside, so there was no need for me to deal with a thousand different sensations all at once, but the tip of his cock against the deepest part of me, an unusual sensation in itself, grew in intensity until another tear escaped and all I could manage was a helpless, "Oh God." 114

"Do you want it fast?" "I... I... yes." But as soon as he pulled away, I gasped, "No. Stop. I mean..." "What do you want?" "Don’t... don’t stop." "I’m not stopping, darlin’. I’m still inside you." "I want..." God, I missed that feeling so much, I’d do anything to get it back. "What?" His voice, little more than a whisper, demanded all the concentration I could muster. "Tell me exactly what you want, and I promise I’ll let you have it." Anything. Including humiliating myself by speaking like a whore if that’s what it took to make him make me feel like that again. "When you were all the way inside me..." "When my what was all the way inside you?" Oh God, Leo Carson. I hate you. I want you. "When your cock was all the way inside me..." "Yes?" "And you didn’t pull out or move away, just—" "You liked it when I did this?" "Ah..." "How does that feel?" I exhaled with each movement of his cock. It touched every spot inside me at once as his hips moved from side to side, rather than back and forward. "Piper. Speak to me, honey. Tell me how it feels." His hand snaked around my waist again and one finger teased over my clit and I heard my voice say "No." "What?" But he didn’t stop. "Did I just hear you say—" "Put your hands on my back again." "Why?" He didn’t sound in the least put out or insulted or confused. It was a single word, a single demanding word. He was willing to do anything, but he wasn’t willing to do it until I told him how much I liked it. "Come on, you can do this." And I could. I could, because I liked the so intense they were damn near painful waves of desire travelling up my spine. "Put your." Gulp of air. "Hands. Put your hands on my back again." "Like this?" "With your thumbs in the small of my back." 115

"Why?" His hands rested on my waist, thumbs tickling the skin above the spot where he knew I wanted them to be. Traced the same circles on my back that his cock did inside me. "Piper?" His voice was almost playful, a teasing singsong. "Because..." "Because what?" All this time he moved inside me in ways that probably couldn’t be seen from the outside, but which I felt in a hundred different spots in my pussy. A thousand. "Because it makes me feel like my spine’s going to melt." He laughed, but not cruelly. If a low chuckle could sound self satisfied, then his did. "For fuck’s sake just do it!" For a split second all I was aware of was a nothing, the absence of his hands on me. "Please." "That’s better." A tickle, a whisper of skin on skin and the pressure increased until mercifully, his hands were back where they should be. "Fuck. You have no idea, Piper. No idea at all." "Please." I pushed back onto him even as my knees became weaker with every second. Shudders of arousal ran from my waist down my legs and I wondered for how much longer I’d be able to hold myself up. "I wish you knew what a turn on this is. Seeing you melt underneath me." Then his weight was against me, propelling me forwards and I fell onto my forearms with a grunt of pleasure and relief, legs spreading wider as he edged his way onto the bed behind me. "I’m not hurting you am I? I’m not hurting you, baby?" Hearing him call me that just made it worse. No, not worse. Better. The stimulation of my G-spot, the friction against my cervix, the pressure of one thumb against the point in the small of my back just above the curve of my buttocks while the other hand crept up my spine got too much for me and I cried out. My cry became a wail and I hoped, prayed he’d translate it into the thought which ran through my head again and again; keep doing that keep doing that keep doing that. 116

"Fuck, I can’t tell you how beautiful you look right now." The words registered. Vaguely. Did he really call me beautiful? The thought lasted a bare instant before his cock pushed me one movement, one twitch, one breath away from orgasm— —and my spine exploded. Intense ripples of pleasure radiated from my G-spot, gripping his cock with each pulse, and each one was tighter than the last, showing no signs of stopping as he continued to fuck me with rapid, shallow, circling thrusts. All I could do was moan, hoping he would keep moving that way until I died. I’d never had an orgasm like it in my entire life; something told me, in the back of my mind where I was only just still able to register such things, this was different. Something was going to happen. It just. Didn’t. Stop. "Jesus, I’ve never felt a pussy as tight as—" Leo’s voice faltered in time with my uncontrolled pulses. That had never happened before. I’d never come so hard I gripped a man’s cock so tightly he gasped at the sensation. "Jesus fucking Christ Piper, you’re fucking unreal." "Don’t—" A strangled cry arose in my throat; amazement at finding my voice at a moment such as this made me lose it again and I knew I had to recover this instant or he’d think I meant don’t do that when I meant, "Don’t stop—" "Oh, there’s no way I’m gonna stop now, Piper honey. No. Fucking. Way." I couldn’t see straight, or speak, or easily think in strings of more than two or three words. The tingling deep inside, an alien sensation, traveled further up my spine with each movement of Leo’s cock. At exactly the right moment, when the tingling became painful, he inched backwards, paused and then rammed his cock back in all the way. Again. And again. And again. All the time I was still coming, still wondering when it was going to stop, and every time he pounded in, the sensations got more and more intense until something deep inside melted or exploded; I didn’t know which. My spine collapsed and my hands automatically contracted around fistfuls of his bedcovers. 117

"Oh fuck, that’s so... fucking hell, Piper, I’m gonna come. Your pussy’s so fucking tight and wet. I’ve never felt anything like it—" White sparks exploded across my field of vision and tears streamed out of my eyes when he growled behind me, the growl becoming a roar an instant before he collapsed, his weight forcing the last helpless moan of orgasm out of my lungs. One hand lay across the back of my neck, fingering my hairline, almost pawing at me as if he had trouble making his body parts work after such a mind blowing fuck. There was no other word for it. It hadn’t been sex; no way was it making love. ‘Fuck’ came the closest but even that wasn’t right. He panted hot breath into my hair and his pounding heart beat against me as fast as mine. "Oh God." With a dry mouth, I muttered, "Yeah." Pause. "What... what the hell was that?" I clung to consciousness by a hair’s breadth and forced myself to speak although those six words sounded like a drawl that very same hair’s breadth away from a slur. "The best fuck I’ve had in a long time, baby, that’s exactly what it was. The best fuck I’ve had in a long time. No, not the right word. I dunno..." Leo’s breath slurred into my hair. So sleepy. "More than that," he whispered. "But... whatever it was... it was a long time coming."

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Twelve "Oh..." Leo’s weight shifted on top of me. "Sorry. I just kinda... forgot where I was for a moment. Let me..." "No, no," I murmured, slurred and lazy. "Wasn’t you. Don’t mind it." I liked it. "I was just breathing." "Oh good." A low chuckle. "I haven’t killed you then." "You damn near did." I made no attempt to move, sprawled on his bed, feet peeking over the edge, still grasping fistfuls of duvet and my head turned to one side, away from him. "I better move at some point." He wriggled, still inside me. "No hurry." "Holy... shit..." My heart skipped a beat. "What? What is it?" "Gimme a second." He propped himself up and withdrew slowly, exhaling at the same time with a loud sigh. "That’s... unusual..." "Leo, you’ve got me worried now." "It’s nothing, honestly. I, uh... I at first thought the condom had burst." "What!" I tried to lift more than my head off the covers but couldn’t. The orgasm I’d just had weakened me, shuddering in my knees, abdomen and spine. "Ssh, ssh, it’s fine. Honestly. It hasn’t. It’s just..." He cleared his throat. "I thought you were a bit wet." "A bit?" Relief made me giggle. "God, Leo, I’ve never felt anything like it." "The feeling’s entirely mutual, darling, but, um... is 119

that normal? Or do I get to beat my chest like a caveman ‘cause I just made you ejaculate?" "Huh?" I twisted my head round to look at him and his gaze met mine. "Are you sure?" He nodded. I flopped my head down again and closed my eyes. "I knew there was something different happening. I felt it." His hand ran over my buttock. Caressed it. "What did it feel like?" "More intense. Like it came from deeper inside me. Everything exploded. Or melted. I really can’t describe it." "Try." A strand of hair wisped against my face. He brushed it away and, I presumed, waited for me to do as he asked. "Like... you’d gone deeper than before and the stimulation was so intense it hurt and the only thing my body could do in response was... explode on the inside." I laughed, embarrassed. "Leo." I yawned. "I’m too tired to think straight." "I hope not. I’ve got plans for you, Pipes. First of all I have to get rid of this thing, but afterwards I want you to come downstairs and meet my other bird." Pause. "Your..." I opened my eyes and he looked at me. "Your what?" His smile, under twinkling eyes, turned into a wide grin. "Yeah. My other bird. In the cage? Downstairs?" "Oh." Closed my eyes again. "Right." "Be right back." He scooted downstairs before slamming a door and I wondered how he could still walk upright. I knew if I’d attempted to stand up I would have collapsed again, so stayed splayed on his bedcovers, basking in the afterglow of the best sex I’d had in my entire life. With anyone. Bar none. His footsteps drummed up the stairs and he threw himself back down on the bed beside me. "Hey. You’re still here." "Yeah. Can’t move." "Oh my God, I broke Piper." He laughed, ran a hand through my still mussed up hair. "Listen, honey, are you all right?" "Yes. I am. Really. Or I will be soon. Gimme a 120

minute." "Was it really that bad?" "That good you mean." "Will you be all right here for ten minutes? I’ve got to have a shower. Like you said, I’ve been wearing these duds since yesterday and Jesus, we worked up a sweat there." "I’ll be fine." "Hey. Maybe you could join me in the shower?" "Love to. But to be honest, I don’t think my legs would hold me up. Damn it, I’ve got these clothes all sweaty and I’ve only got my uniform with me, and something to wear into work tomorrow." His weight shifted again as he hauled himself off the bed with a groan. "I’ll find you something to change into once I’ve had a shower." Slowly gathering strength again, I propped myself up on my forearms and watched as he pulled a pair of jeans out of a drawer. He caught me watching and winked as he slammed the drawer shut. "Not gonna wear anything else?" "Nah. I have to wear something after I get out of the shower though. Need to keep my cock warm until you’ve recovered enough to go again." My eyes spontaneously widened, and he laughed as I shook my head, saying, "You’re a bloody wonder, Leo. Insatiable." "I do my best ma’am." He mock-saluted, bent to kiss the top of my head and took his leave, shouting behind him, "I’ll only be ten minutes, don’t go anywhere." "As if," I muttered, making a half-hearted attempt to shuffle across the bed and lay my head on the pillows. My legs trembled, felt hollow, and I wondered if I’d be able to stand or walk any time soon. A vision flashed in my mind’s eye of Leo, moving inside me, pulling my legs around his waist. Maybe over a table. Maybe I was sitting up on a chair. The bed. "God." I flopped back, staring up at the ceiling and his skylight, running the back of a hand across my forehead. It came away clammy with a sheen of cold sweat and I shivered. My heart rate had slowed to something approximating normal and though I reckoned I’d be like 121

Bambi finding his feet if I tried to walk, I realized I’d at least be able to stay upright. But I wasn’t going to chance it until Leo’s return, so closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift while I had the opportunity. He’d said he had plans and knowing him as I did, said plans would need energy I didn’t yet have. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty!" I flinched awake—not that I’d been asleep—and rubbed my eyes. "Hey." I turned towards the voice that had pulled me out of my daydream and bang went any hope of my heart rate returning to normal. He stood a couple of feet away from the bed dressed in nothing more than the jeans he’d picked up minutes before, a towel draped round his neck, looking even hotter than he had after the shower at my house. Tattoos more colorful, muscles more defined. Leo Carson version 2.0. Half naked. In his bedroom. His natural environment. "Uh..." I’d intended to utter more than one syllable but the sight of him arrested the breath in my throat. "Piper?" He frowned, came closer and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning on one arm which reached over to me. "I’m fine, I’m fine," I said, hoping the lie convinced him. And then I realized. There’s no need to lie about it, no need for embarrassment. Why be coy about the sight of him turning you on? Why opt for acting tired and slightly dazed over aroused by the sight of his naked, tattooed torso? "Actually, no." His eyebrows lifted and he used the hand he wasn’t leaning on to trace a line down my leg. "Oh? What’s up?" "It doesn’t do a lot for my blood pressure seeing you fresh from the shower twice in one day." He grinned, looked me straight in the eye, only glancing down for a split second, but that glance told me everything. It was only a moment of bashfulness, but there it was. "Especially with those tattoos." He looked down at one shoulder, then up at me again. "Really?" "Yeah. In fact I think it should be illegal for you to wear a shirt around the house ever again." I grinned, careful 122

not to overdo it. "You said you had plans for me?" Leo took a split second to answer, but again, just like the downward glance, there was a world of meaning in that pause. "Yeah. Yeah I do. I’ve run you a bath. No, darlin’, I’m not saying you need one, but if you wouldn’t shower with me—" "Couldn’t!" "If you couldn’t shower with me, then I at least want to see you naked in the bath." "It was your own fault." "I didn’t hear you complaining. Mostly it was a torrent of filth about how good it felt." Instantly my cheeks heated up and from the amused smile tugging at his lips I could tell my face was as red as it felt. "I would have said your name as well but you wouldn’t let me." "And Piper Holt always does what she’s told, does she?" "Of course. I wouldn’t want a spanking, would I?" "Something tells me you wouldn’t be averse to that, either." "There isn’t much I wouldn’t do, to be honest." "Is that so? Piper, every time you open your mouth you go up in my estimation." "I’d hate to think opening my mouth meant I went down." "Oh." He gulped so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed. Cleared his throat. "Come on. We better get you downstairs before your bath gets cold. I know what you damn females are like; you’d have it hot enough to lift the skin off your back but even so..." I shuffled over to the edge of the bed again, accidentally nudging Leo as I moved my legs over. "Oops. Sorry." My feet hit the floor like they were made of lead and the vibrations ran up my legs, making my knees tingle with pins and needles. "Now let’s see if I can walk. Or stand first, that’d be a start." He laughed, watching me haul myself to my feet, his laughter growing louder when I let myself drop back onto the bed, though I managed to sit up. "You really are having 123

trouble there, aren’t you?" He dropped to his knees at the side of the bed and ran a slow hand up my leg, from the ankle to the knee, stopping at the hem of my nowrearranged skirt, and bit his lip. Just once. But I saw him do it. "Maybe we should get those shoes off you first," he murmured, almost to himself. His hand slid to the inside of my knee and up my inner thigh and he cocked his head as if dazed by the touch of skin on skin. Transfixed. His lips parted and he exhaled, so close to me that I felt the whisper of his breath on my thigh. As his hand slipped higher I gripped the edge of the bed with both hands and stiffened. He stopped, looked up at me, though didn’t move his hand. "What’s wrong?" "Still sore." "Sore?" I nodded, embarrassed. No, not embarrassed. Coy. Leo’s thumb moved back and forth against my inner thigh, just at the hem of my skirt and I shivered with lust. Sore I may have been but that didn’t stop my natural responses. "Well... a bit uncomfortable maybe." I gave him what I thought was a watery smile. "Tender?" he looked up at me, his lips twitching into the merest hint of smile, although his puppy dog eyes still managed to look apologetic. "You could say that." A slow shake of the head. Once. Twice. "My God. What have I done to you?" "Come now, Carson. Surely you’re not that much of a biology ‘tard?" He burst out laughing, threw his head back before moving his hand back down to my ankle and unbuckling my shoe without too many problems, although I noticed a tremor in his fingers at one point. A minor one, but he stayed in control. "And..." he said, sliding the shoe off my foot and holding out his hand for the other. That shoe was dispensed with in seconds and he rose to his feet, held out his hand. "Bath time for Piper." My fingers made the slightest of contacts with his 124

before they jerked back an inch, hovered in mid air and then went for the top button of his fly. "What...?" He rocked back and forth, not unbalanced, and made a sound halfway between a growl and a laugh. "Piper. Be a good girl. Behave." His hand rested on top of mine, not as a restraint, more of a reassurance. "Not yet. If I’m not allowed to touch you, you’re not allowed to touch me." "I didn’t say you weren’t allowed. Just that I’m still a bit sore." My brow wrinkled momentarily but I brushed off such a petulant expression, not wanting to appear moody or...selfish was the only other word I could come up with. What was selfish about wanting his cock in my mouth? "Don’t you want—?" Then it struck me. It was selfish because I wanted it for me, not for his own pleasure although that was a part of it. I wanted to be in control once more, to taste him, and hear his breath quicken as he came in my mouth. "Course I do," he said. "And..." He took one slow step backwards. "I’ll let you." My hand, which had still been floating in mid air, came to rest in my lap. "If..." he went on. "If what?" "If..." He took another step back and the hand which he had held out to me now rested on his fly. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the fingers which stroked the prominent bulge through the fabric straining at the buttons. "If you can walk over here and come get it." Startled, not by his blatancy but by my willingness to take up the challenge despite my physical condition, I stood and a dimple appeared beside his mouth as he tried not to laugh out loud or even smile. "You look as if you need some help." "No, no, I’m fine," I reassured him. "Ooh... wait a minute... bloody hell, Leo..." My words came out in a breathless sigh, almost a groan as I put one foot in front of the other and neared him, fully expecting him to tease me by backing away. But he didn’t. He slipped one arm around my waist as I stumbled, laughing under his breath, which whispered 125

across the skin of my neck as he whispered in my ear. "Maybe later, then, once you’ve found your feet. Come on. Let’s get you downstairs." I looked him in the eyes, unsure of what I’d find there and saw a combination of mischief and nefarious intent. "Do I have to have a bath now or should I meet your other bird first?" "Well, we’re downstairs anyway. And yeah, I should probably take his cover off and let him see daylight; he’s not had it off since I left to meet you yesterday. The cover I mean." "Quite." I winked, and he led the way across his living area to the bird cage on a stand against the wall between the two huge windows. "Um..." Left to walk unaided now, I watched his back—his bare back with tattooed shoulders— and shook my head to rid it of those kinds of thoughts. "One point." "Yeah?" He glanced over his shoulder, then back at the bird cage before removing the blanket, unleashing a torrent of flapping and squawking from the unholy creature there caged. "Your other bird is a bloke?" I came to stand beside him. "He is. Does that shock you?" Leo laughed as he folded the blanket and stored it on a nearby shelf. "Feck off!" "What the hell was that?" I asked, turning from Leo to the bird in the cage. "Um...yeah. Meet Hyde." "Hyde? Where’s—" "Jekyll? Dead." "Oh I am sorry. Was she the girl, then?" "No, no, I had two who were both male." "Male what?" "Parakeets, of course. Don’t you know a parakeet when you see one?" "Forgive me. I was shocked at the fact it swore. So... Jekyll and Hyde were blokey birds? Gay, were they?" "Probably. You should have seen what Hyde used to do to Jek—" "Jaysus Christ!" it squawked. 126

"So basically you own a... a parakeet which bummed its companion to death?" Leo colored. "Yeah. It’s my secret shame." "What’s a guy like you doing owning a parakeet anyway?" "You don’t think it’s a very manly pet?" "Oh no, that’s not it at all. You just strike me as the kind of guy to have a leopard prowling about the place, or perhaps a cougar. And you," I continued, turning back to Hyde, a bright green hurricane of profanities, "are a foul mouthed little thing, aren’t you?" "Dorty fecker," he told me, and I straightened, raised my eyebrows at Leo. "I wonder who taught him that." He had the good grace to look abashed. "Uh, yes, he does seem to have picked up on my speech patterns." "What you mean is, you’ve passed on a terminal case of Tourette’s to a poor, defenseless parakeet. Hey, Hyde," I said, running my finger along the bars of his cage. "It’s not nice to—" Lightning fast, he bobbed forward, pecked my finger and I whipped it back. "You dirty bastard!" "See?" Leo burst out laughing. "That’s where it comes from." I sucked my finger before examining the tip closely but there didn’t seem to be any blood. "Flesh wound," I said. "You—" I jabbed my sore finger at its erstwhile attacker, "are probably in a bad mood because you have a very small penis." "We had trouble finding it when we sexed him so you could be right," Leo said and I grimaced. "I really didn’t need to hear that." Still glaring at Hyde, I said, "That’ll be why you swear so much. You’re angry." "Christ, woman, I swear like a trooper and I’ve got a huge cock!" "There’s just no arguing with that is there? Right." I clasped my hands in an I mean business gesture. "Bath for me. I stink of depravity. You said you’d get me something to wear? Not a skimpy hand towel to cover my modesty, I hope?" "As if you have any modesty left to cover," Leo quipped, but I didn’t reply or look over my shoulder as I 127

headed towards the door he’d earlier indicated led to the bathroom. The sheer opulence of the room made me shudder. Maybe not opulence in the strictest sense of the word, but again, in comparison to my home, his won out. Tiles covered every surface; no wallpaper or paintwork here, and this lent it the air of a show room; something one would see in a home improvements magazine. Grooming products lined the glass shelf above the pedestal sink but aside from that there was nothing there which could be construed as clutter. Either Leo was incredibly OCD about keeping his house tidy or he had a cleaner. It could have been that he’d only just moved in. Or he’d tidied up the day before, before leaving the house. Although it hadn’t been part of the plan for me to come back here, it might have been an idea teasing at the back of his mind as he’d turned the key in the lock. Just in case. The free-standing shower unit looked big enough for two—more than two—and questions about Leo’s history flashed into my mind before I instantly dismissed them. For some reason I’d expected him to have a corner bath with a Jacuzzi function but no; the claw foot bath surprised me with its sophistication. Simple, unpretentious and that itself made it a turn on. Leo Carson didn’t need his fixtures, fittings and furnishings to be overtly sexual—that was a quality he could turn on and off at will, as I’d experienced in the past twenty-four hours. Less than that, even. Has it really been only around eighteen hours since we hooked up? I wondered, startled at how much we’d done in that time. "Admiring my bathroom, are you?" he asked, appearing in the doorway. "This doesn’t strike me as a bloke’s bathroom." "That’s because I’m not a bloke." He approached slowly and I tried not to quiver at the sight of him in nothing more than low-slung jeans riding tantalizingly close to his hip bones. "I’m a gentleman." "You’ve done some decidedly ungentlemanly things to me recently, Leo." 128

"Quite." He wrapped one arm around himself as he walked and with the other hand pulled at his lip as if pondering on what to say next. "Though one could say—" he added, pointing at me for a second, "—that was only because the lady wanted me to." "Weren’t you supposed to be finding me something to put on after my bath?" "There’s not much point, is there? I mean... you’re not going to need something of mine to put on unless you take everything of yours off." "Ah. So that’s why you’re here. You came to help." "I came to see if you needed anything, yes." He smirked, still with his forefinger worrying at his bottom lip. He had no idea what he was doing to me. Of course he knew what he was doing to me. And he did it deliberately, banking on my residual tenderness stopping me acting on my desires. Feminine frustration clearly turned him on. And boy, did he know how to work it. "Before I see to lunch I thought I’d come and help you undress." Arms crossed, I adopted an ‘okay then, let’s see what you’ve got’ stance. "Thanks so much. But I think I can manage." "Well, I have to act like a gentleman, don’t I?" "And it is an act, is it?" "Touché." He looked me up and down for far from the first time or even the hundredth. "There’s no need to be shy around me, you know. I’ve seen you naked before. And hey, I’ve only got one item of clothing on. You have...?" I did a quick calculation in my head. "Three." "That’s three too many," Leo shot back. Almost as if he’d been practicing the line in his head before I gave him the feed. His hand went for my waist and, in his cocky state, he was more able to deal with my fitted tee shirt than I. With one swift tug, he pulled it over my head and offering no resistance, I lifted my arms and let him. He dropped my top on the floor. "That’s one." A finger traced a line from my collar bone down to the cup of my bra and teased at the edge of the fabric before lifting it ever so slightly, not letting me know whether he was going to venture further and cup my breast in his hand or not. Giving 129

me no hint. "I might get carried away, you know." Heat shot from the point of contact on my skin down to my pussy and I wanted him again, whether it would hurt or not. Pain, or at the very least discomfort, would be worth the pleasure fucking him for the umpteenth time would bring. He raised his eyebrows while looking at me and running a finger back along my collarbone, his hand slipping under my bra strap and the look in his eyes almost asked for permission. I thought the hint of a smile tugging at my lips would be all the permission he sought but no, he evidently wanted me to say something. "Go ahead. I dare you." And I added a cheeky wink as well, knowing he’d be unable to resist a light laugh. Leo broke eye contact and watched himself flick the strap off my shoulder. Then my other side, before taking a step closer and our upper bodies made the slightest of contact, only a whisper of air separating the contours of our bodies. "And this..." He reached around me—with both hands, probably just to make sure he managed to execute the move—and unclasped the bra, drawing back just enough to allow it to fall. "Is two." I inhaled, drawing him closer once again. My hands on his pectorals, following the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Then his hands were at my waist, fiddling with the three studded buttons and the zip. Maybe he was quick, maybe I’d just lost all sense of time but in an instant my skirt slid to the floor and, his hands still around me, he looked me in the eye and said, "That’s three." Breath caught in my throat, I was unable to reply past blinking rapidly against the well of tears stinging the backs of my eyes. "Now." Before I could protest, he lifted me clean off the floor and carried me over to the bath. "There." Though I now stood in the bath, ever so slightly higher than him on the floor, my arms were still around his neck, but he unhooked them. "Aren’t you going to sit down?" "But..." But nothing, I added silently, slithering down 130

into the not too hot, not too cold water. "And now I’ve got you all wet..." He knelt by the bath, running a hand over the top of my head as I leaned back, my hair hanging over the edge of the roll top bath. I turned to look at him from that odd angle. "What?" "I’ll go make us something to eat," he said with a wink, stood, and left the room.

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Thirteen Lying in Leo’s bath with my hair hanging over the side to keep it dry as I soaked, I stared up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, reflecting on the craziness of the past twenty-four hours. It was far from the first time I’d had a one night stand, far from the first time I’d had a ‘session’ of lovemaking as opposed to a once or twice go-around, but both together? No. Although, strictly speaking, if I’m staying here tonight, doesn’t that make it a two night stand? Leo had run the bath to exactly the right temperature—was there nothing he didn’t do to my satisfaction?—and its heat eased my aching muscles (and other parts), steamed all the toxins out of my skin and relaxed me to the point of borderline lethargy. I don’t want to get out. I’d been there for what seemed like a full half hour. I really should. But if Leo’s preparing lunch he’ll call me if he’s ready for me. I hauled myself into a sitting position, grabbed a towel from the shelf unit by the bath and pulled the plug. Cooking sounds came from the kitchen. Proper cooking sounds. Chopping, slicing, dicing, as opposed to tearing off a cardboard wrapper, piercing the film lid, the ping of the microwave. "Ah, there you are. Hope you’re hungry. I suddenly am; can’t think why..." Leo did a double take as I emerged from the bathroom, looking up then down, allowing his gaze to flick over me again, through his eyelashes. Don’t think I didn’t see that. "I hope you’re not expecting me to keep this towel on for the rest of the day." 132

Although I’d wrapped it tightly around my chest and tucked it in, I checked it for the umpteenth time, surprised at my sudden modesty. He too only wore one item of clothing, but damn, he looked hot in those jeans. As hot as he would have done had he not been wearing them. Sometimes a halfwrapped gift was as tempting as one given with no covering. More so. "Don’t worry, darling; I’m expecting you to take it off at some point. Very soon, actually." He turned back to slicing mushrooms on the chopping board on his kitchen island. "I left one of my shirts on the bed. There’s something incredibly sexy about a slender woman in an oversized men’s shirt, I think. You like spaghetti Bolognese? Yeah, course you do. Everyone does." His switch from blatant flirting to mundane matters sent a fizz of excitement through me. He was so comfortable with discussing what he found sexy that it peppered his conversation in the way other people’s speech would be peppered with observations on the weather, or profanities, or flippant greetings like "How are you?" Hi; my name’s Leo and I like to fuck. Lovely weather we’re having today, isn’t it? Can I offer you a cup of tea? May I eat you? "Um... yes. Yes, I do," I stuttered, before clearing my throat. "Nice of you to leave the shirt upstairs, though, huh?" "Oh, there’s method in my madness. I knew you’d come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel at the most and I’d get to watch you walking about the place one tug away from nudity." I headed for the stairs, aware of his gaze on me even as I turned my back. It burned my skin through the towel and I wouldn’t have been surprised if a scar to complement my earlier bruises appeared somewhere on me. He’d left a stark white work shirt, simple, elegant and crisp, on the bed. Pulling it on, I sniffed the sleeve, wondering if it was brand spanking new, but caught the aroma of his washing powder. Something faintly floral, with a hint of vanilla. The shirt came down to my thighs, would expose more than was decent if I moved a certain way, but that was probably all according to Leo’s evil plan. The sleeves were a bit long on me too but it was too fiddly to 133

rectify this; I’d never been the sort of person adept enough to adjust sleeve length on her own. The top button I left undone as a nod to my femininity, despite Leo’s comment about slender women in men’s shirts. Looking over the balcony at the main room below, I listened to the clack of blade on chopping board and the faint sizzling as I towel dried the ends of my hair I’d managed to splash as I bathed. I could get used to this. What the—? Jerking back to consciousness, I finished towel drying my hair, finger combed it into something approximating submission and trotted downstairs. The sight of a shirtless Leo did nothing to dispel my wistful thought from moments before. Damn tattoos. Why’d ya have to ripple like that as he moves? "Hey. That was quick." "Well I’m not wearing very much, am I?" "True." He continued chopping as he looked at me. "And what little you’re wearing suits you. Just leave the towel in the washer if you’re done with it." My skin prickled under his watchful eye as I followed his suggestion. I crouched to open the washing machine door and felt his gaze on me. Reaching forward to cram the towel in with the clothes he’d been wearing earlier, my entire body blushed under his scrutiny. Straightening up, I stretched, arms held high, and wondered if he was looking. "Come here." The knife clattered on the chopping board and in an instant he was at my side. "Looks as if there’s something you need a hand with." The way he looked at me had me undone. Put your hands on me. I don’t care where. Just touch me. "Gimme your arm." "What are you going to do?" But still, I offered my wrist like he was a vampire and I a willing victim. "Sleeves are too long. You never know; you might need your hands free at some point." "I think that’s a distinct possibility." He didn’t look up as he rolled the cuff back on itself several times up to my elbow, but his eyebrow quirked momentarily. "There. Other arm." 134

Dutifully, I held it out. There was nothing overtly sexual about his act of rolling my—strictly speaking his— sleeve up but all the same, I felt looked after. Cared for. The trace of his fingers as he concentrated on folding the material back, the slight frown on his brow as he did so, the parting of his lips and almost imperceptible tut when the fabric bunched and refused to behave. God, I want you. "All done." He smiled in apparent satisfaction at his handiwork, looking me up and down. And I’m not waiting. "Leo, I—" "There’s—" We stopped, looked each other in the eye. I wondered if we’d proceed to one of those embarrassing "You speak, no, no, you speak first," situations. I should have known Leo was too manly to allow himself to be overridden when he had something he deemed important to say. "There’s something not quite right about your appearance." His frown told me he was serious, not in the mood for arguing or even joking. "Hmm." He stroked his bottom lip with his forefinger, pouting as he did so, and I wanted it to be my finger he held to his lips, my hand he kissed, my palm he ran the tip of his tongue along, my— "Ah, got it." His hand went to my neckline, tracing the ridge of my collar bone. "Your button." "I don’t like wearing shirts buttoned all the way up, so I left the top one undone." "So I see. But it doesn’t look right." "It’s more comfortable that way." "I bet it would be more comfortable like this." He opened the next button and smoothed down the collar and neckline of the shirt. "See? Much better. One button undone isn’t enough when the shirt’s hiding your cleavage." "I’ve always thought it was better to leave something covered. That way it’s more... you know." Lost for words, I inclined my head once in his direction. "True, but there’s a lot to be said for just revealing the curve of a woman’s breasts." Staring at my body as if he could see right through the shirt, never mind observe the hint of cleavage the shirt’s neckline now revealed, he poked 135

the very tip of his tongue out and wet his lips. "Fuck. I better get back to dinner." "Anything I can help you with?" I asked, my voice faltering with disappointment as he turned away to check on the pasta bubbling on the cooker top. "Now there’s a loaded question." He threw a laugh over his shoulder as he stirred the Bolognese mix. "Nothing that wouldn’t delay dinner for another half hour or so." "You could always switch the cooker off." Yes, please switch it off. Let me— The dimple appeared at the side of his mouth and I could tell he was smiling, no doubt thinking filthy thoughts too, but he remained silent. God, I want to... I want to... Screwing my eyes shut for a second, I chewed my thumbnail, my heart thundering. I didn’t want to fuck him senseless up against the kitchen countertop—well, I did but that wasn’t my primary wish at that moment—rather, I wanted to persuade him to switch the cooker off, turn around and let me— My inner dialogue flitted between daring and reticence, lust and shyness, until I bit my lip, said a silent prayer to whichever of the saints was perverted enough to smile on premarital sex, realized they were all against oral anyway, and resigned myself to an eternity in hell. Don’t reject me. I stood right behind Leo and he stiffened. Still with the wooden spoon in his hand, his stirring of the Bolognese mix slowed, and I watched as the rippling of his shoulder muscles came to a halt. Don’t turn me away. "Turn it off." My voice was little more than a whisper but he heard; I knew he heard. Don’t say no. For an eternity in one second, I stood an inch away from him, longing to make contact, and yet not. Don’t turn me away. He flicked a switch on the wall by the cooker but aside from that didn’t move at all. My hands rose up and laid themselves against his shoulder blades, which flickered under my touch. As I drew 136

closer still, my lips pursed and I exhaled a slow breath of relief and a faint tremor ran through his torso at the cool whisper over his skin. I laid my cheek against him and held myself there for a second or two while getting my breath back; relief at him doing what I said had made me giddy. But soon the need to move my hands over him got too much and I slid them down to the small of his back, gratified when he gasped. His hipbones held an endless fascination for me; the way the waistband of his jeans sat on them just so, their curve, their hint of what lay beneath, but my need for closer physical contact overrode this fascination; I couldn’t stop my hands snaking under his arms, round to his front, as I stepped closer again and pressed up against him, hard, pulling him back as I pushed myself forward, almost as if I was trying to force myself inside him for a change. "Ah..." His exhalation told me he felt every contour of my breasts through the shirt I wore. "Piper..." Can you tell? Do you know how much I want this? "Piper..." Unable to speak properly, now? "Turn around." My voice grew more steady in inverse proportion to the tremors sneaking into his, the inability to say anything more than my name. He radiated warmth as he turned, with barely enough space to do so but there was no way in hell I was going to stand back and sacrifice proximity. At least one part of me had to be touching one part of him until I’d got what I wanted. But, Jesus, when he’d fully turned around to face me, I couldn’t face him. I just could not bring myself to look up into his eyes and thanked God for his seeming inability to speak properly, otherwise he might have told me to do so. Even his hand trembled as it snaked into my hair and the other steadied himself against the worktop behind him, so it was unlikely he’d physically force me to tilt my head back and meet his gaze. I brushed my lower lip across his nipple, lips slightly parted so he felt my breath as well as my mouth on him. "Pipe..." Reduced to only managing one syllable of my name, he tightened his hand in my hair, whether to guide 137

my movement or to keep himself fully present, I didn’t know. One hand rested on his chest, the other went to his waist and I sent up another unheard, blasphemous prayer. Please let my fingers work. Just let them do their job. The hand which had previously steadied him against the kitchen worktop went to his top button but I swatted it away. "No. I’m doing this." The hand tightening in my hair, the groan, the swatted-away hand balling into a fist and punching the air at his side all told me he was willing to go along with what I wanted. Or perhaps it was a matter of being unable to protest. The top button was easy to undo. It practically fell apart in my hand, but I still had to swallow back a knot of nerves. No. Anticipation. "Fuck," he murmured, when my finger tugged at the second button, or stud, and eased some of the tension around his cock, now reduced from saying my name to uttering a single-syllable profanity. "Fuck." His free hand gripped my wrist; I didn’t know whether he wanted me to stop or carry on. So I stopped. If he wanted me to go on, he could learn to ask nicely or not at all. The hand in my hair slid to the nape of my neck and tugged my head back sharply, forcing me to look up at him. "You—" I’d been about to tell him not to think he could direct me this time, but his kiss silenced me. It was violent, hard and not at all loving or tender, but even that was a turn on because I had done this to him. He breathed against me like a dying man gasping for air, moaning as he nudged me with his lips. I opened my mouth to breathe in but he never gave me a chance, pulling me in closer, still with one hand clamped onto my wrist and the other at the back of my head. I wasn’t going anywhere. It was as if, though, once he had me where he wanted me, he had to calm down. His lips had crushed mine and now became softer, his avaricious kiss becoming tender. For a moment I forgot myself and let him take over. Let his tongue run along my lips to the corner of my mouth, and my lips part. He grazed the tip of my tongue, drew it 138

into his mouth and the pressure increased gently, until I realized he was sucking it, slowly. My nipples hardened and the kiss ended. He drew back and I swear there was a hint of a smile on his face, despite the pained look in his eyes, the wrinkle of a frown between them. "That..." For a moment the room spun around me. "That wasn’t supposed to happen." He huffed out a breath of laughter, smirking, still smirking, and closed his eyes, threw his head back when I undid the third button, his grip on my wrist loosening but not releasing. "Let go." No response. "Leo." I flexed my fingers, balled them into a fist, flexed them again, but he seemed unaware of any movement, any sensation, anything other than what was going on behind that last button. I whipped my hand away, must have surprised him because his hand hovered in mid air before coming to rest mercifully on my shoulder and not on my wrist, giving me freedom of movement. The freedom to touch him wherever I chose. I slid my palm inside his waistband, finally making contact with his cock, eliciting a low groan from somewhere deep inside his chest, like the warning of a coming roar, and the last button popped out of place when my hand reached down the shaft and stroked the entire length of him in one swift movement. "Oh God!" And up again. "Fuck." Tell me how it feels, how you like it. "Jesus, Piper!" He lowered his head to mine again, but didn’t kiss me, merely breathed against my mouth in sharp, ragged, helpless gasps, touching his forehead to mine to steady himself. Tightening my grip on the down stroke, I smiled against his mouth when his breathing became even shallower and nearly lost it myself when for the first time in an age, he said one word that wasn’t my name, a profanity or an exclamation of desire. "Please." My heart nearly stopped, my head dizzied, my legs trembled and I could do nothing but sink to my knees. Still 139

gripping the base of his cock, I took the head between my lips, swirling my tongue around it faster with each gasp from Leo. I didn’t feel his hands anywhere on me and imagined they were either gripping the countertop to keep him upright or hovering in midair again, unsure of where to go, what to touch, what to hold on to. And I liked that uncertain part of him, the part of him that was lost, the part which drove him to say please. And then they were on me; one on the back of my neck, the other stroking the top of my head as he pushed himself forward, not forcing too much of himself into my mouth, but just enough to let me know how much he wanted this. I stroked with one hand, allowing more of him into my mouth with each movement. Although he did nothing more than groan with each stroke of my hand along the shaft or my tongue along the underside of his cock as it traced the pulsating vein, I silently begged him to speak to me, prayed for him to regain his power of speech. Although the grip on the back of my neck, the occasional strokes of my hair, the guttural moans all conspired to tell me he was lost, there was hardly anything I found more of a turn on than a man telling me out loud how far gone he was. "Jesus, that feels good." Exactly what I wanted to hear. I moved faster, sliding my tongue down the shaft of his cock. "Fuck, Piper, what you’re doing... it’s unreal." His words only encouraged me to move in time with his rapid breathing, his moans. His response ignited a warmth in my groin which spread across my hips like something melting inside me, made every joint tingle and stole my arousal from his own. I’d gone down on guys before and it had never been something I did solely to please them. I’d always enjoyed it, but with Leo Carson...so appreciative, so vocal about his pleasure, I enjoyed it even more because yes, he got off on it and yes, he let me know he did, but something in his tone of voice, his moans, the urgent yet gentle pushing further in, damn near got me off too. So yes, I was being selfish as I 140

stroked him, selfish as I used my hands to encircle the base of his cock and stroke him upwards as I brought my lips down to meet them, selfish as I closed my eyes and let the rhythm of his breathing guide me. "Piper..." He tried to speak but failed again and I guessed he was too close, had reverted to my name, Piper, and profanity, and "Please." I tasted the salty drops of pre-cum on the tip of his cock each time I pulled back and let my tongue linger there, teasing and tasting him at the same time. Each time I did pull back he groaned as if scared I would let him go completely, but just as his moans became helpless to the point of begging me not to stop in their own inarticulate way, I slid my lips down his shaft again, wringing from him a speechless gasp of wonder. The closer he got, the more breathless his sounds, until he was only able to mutter over and over again a near silent "Oh God, oh God..." He had no idea how much his loss of control turned me on, and when he finally managed to stutter out, "Pipe... I... I’m gonna..." the warmth in my groin grew to a near agonizing level. I wanted to pull him down next to me on the floor and demand he fuck me but that would have been the cruelest thing; I knew he wanted to come in my mouth despite the hand grasping my hair at the back of my head fighting to move me back. His hands wanted him to be a gentleman but his hips, juddering in front of me, pushing him forward, wanted him to find his release between my lips, on my tongue, down the back of my throat. "Piper... I’m... I... Fuck!" His last word before orgasm was a plea as well as a cry and I ignored his feeble attempts to pull me off him. Maybe he’d been with other women who didn’t like this but going down on a man and suddenly stopping at the very moment he came seemed... pointless to me. I loved doing it just as much as Leo loved my mouth on him. "Fuck. Fucking hell." One of Leo’s hands gripped the worktop behind him as I stood. The other rested on his forehead above his closed eyes and I licked my lips, waiting for him to come back down to earth. "You." He half-smiled, took his hand away from his 141

face and leaned back against the kitchen units. "You are." He opened his eyes. "You are..." "I hope whatever you’re thinking, it’s a compliment." "How could it be anything but?" He pulled my waist with both hands, drew me up close and tried to kiss me but I turned away at the last second. "Careful. You sure you want to kiss me?" "Course. Why wouldn’t I?" "You never know where my mouth’s been." "Lady, after what you’ve just done, your mouth is the tamest place I’ll be kissing you. Now come here."

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Fourteen "Have you ever done this before?" I asked, crossed my cutlery on the dinner plate and set it beside Leo’s on the coffee table. "Cooked a meal? No, never. How was it? I have a stomach pump out back if you start to feel ill." I cocked my head and glared, or tried to. "Ha bloody ha, Carson. You know what I meant. This. Us." "What, had sex? No, never. I was a virgin till I met you. And you stole my cherry." He wiped an imaginary tear away from the corner of his eye and sniffed melodramatically. "Oh really? You were a virgin until twenty-four hours ago?" "I was. And you used me." "You didn’t know what you were doing?" "Didn’t have a clue." "Well." I pressed my lips together to suppress the laugh I knew would only encourage him. Indeed, his own eyes crinkled up at the corners and his dimples were in evidence again. "You were awfully good at it." "Ah, you got me." He held his hands up in mock surrender and settled back into the sofa. "No, really, what did you mean? Have I ever done what before?" "Had a one night stand that ended up lasting all weekend?" Instantly I bit my lip and turned away, made out I was arranging myself comfortably on the sofa beside him. I folded my legs under me and pulled the tails of his shirt as far down my thighs as they would go, which wasn’t very far. 143

"Nope." He rested his arm on the sofa’s low back behind me, and my heart skipped a beat. Okay, so I hadn’t pushed it too far by asking him a direct question about his past and how it related to us. Not that there was an ‘us’. "I’ve met very few women who were brave enough to try my cooking, too, so you’re one of a very small group." "I was hungry." "I like to think I had something to do with that." As he relaxed, let his voice lower in volume, his Irish lilt became more pronounced, almost as musical as the CD he’d put on earlier when we’d sat down to eat. It was on low so one could only make out the words if the listener was familiar with the songs, and Hyde, now undercover again, was quiet, probably asleep. Leo cupped my chin, the tips of his fingers caressing my neck and made me face him. "And what about you? Have you ever done anything like this before?" I couldn’t think what had possessed me to ask about his past in that way, but ask I had and he’d answered, volleying it back into my court in a way of which Roger Federer would’ve been proud. "No," I said quietly. He still held me, still studied me. He had a talent for making me feel scrutinized. Known. "Really," he all but whispered, nodding slowly. The tip of his tongue moistened his lips before he leaned in closer. "You seem..." A quiet huff of laughter. "You seem like a bit of a goer to me." The tension between us shattered when we burst into mutual laughter. "Mister Carson, whatever gave you that idea?" "Oh, lemme think... the fact I’ve fucked you three ways to Sunday...literally! It is Sunday? See? We’re a couple made for clichés." He paused then, and his expression became marginally more serious. Maybe it was his use of the word ‘couple’ in passing, maybe he was thinking something he wasn’t yet prepared to say out loud, but I let it pass. He licked his lips again, and his fingers, still on my throat, twitched. His thumb ran along my jaw, then his hand tightened almost imperceptibly but just enough so that I felt him draw me closer. "You know." His breath was a whisper 144

on my lips and I nearly, nearly, nearly told him straight out to kiss me. "I should be at the point of physical exhaustion by now." I inclined my head a fraction. Go on, I’m listening. "There’s something, hmm, I dunno. You’re... what’s the word I’m looking for?" His lips twitched in a smile as understated as my previous nod. So close now, we needed only minute movements to communicate. The barest breath, or touch, or word, were microcosms of what we intended to say. His lips agonizingly close to mine, he asked, "I might only be saying this ‘cause I’m Irish but have you ever had the feeling the more you drink, the thirstier you get?" "Are you comparing me to salt water?" Leo’s lips curved into a more obvious smile. "Yeah, I guess I am. Either that or crack-laced Guinness." "You silver-tongued devil." I dipped my head, gently so, so he’d know I wasn’t trying to move away from his touch. My lips parted when they grazed the side of one of his fingers. With an upward glance I caught him biting his lip, trying—failing—to stifle the sharp intake of breath. "You, Piper Holt, are addictive. That’s the word I was looking for. That’s what you are. Addictive." In one swift movement he unbalanced me and threw me back. I screeched with laughter, surprise and delight as I scrambled in the opposite direction from him, or tried to. "Me and my silver tongue." Above me, leering, he waggled his eyebrows. "Doing devilish things to your most intimate parts." My laughter only quieted to silence when he pulled up the shirt, exposing me. I just could not understand why I had these moments, why I felt watched, observed, studied. "I knew I fancied something sweet for dessert." What would have been laughter choked in my throat and became something desperate, vulnerable, as he slipped a hand between my knees, moved one of my legs off the sofa and knelt on the floor. He followed the line his hand traced back up my leg with the very tip of his tongue, murmuring unintelligible words against me as he did so, making my skin tingle. "You," he said, lifting his head just enough for me to hear him now, "have got the sweetest taste." His tongue 145

circled my clit, not touching, just circling, as one of his fingers teased my pussy. All smart replies disappeared from my mind as my body responded, pushed itself onto him. All I could think was, this is too intimate. This is too intimate. He’s... he’s... but I craved his touch; lightning bolts of pleasure shot up my spine from where his tongue flickered over me. He’s done this before; why so shy now? Leo licked from my pussy up to my clit and when he touched me there at last, flickering the tip of his tongue back and forth, I gasped, tried to follow him with my hips, but he pulled back and looked down at me again. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look at me like that. Pause. "Leo?" My use of his name seemed to shake him out of whatever had frozen him. "Sorry. I was just...looking." Well don’t. It makes me uncomfortable. "Haven’t you seen enough of me yet?" "You are kidding?" He bent his head again. Tasted me again. My pussy rippled against his tongue. "I could never see enough of you. Or taste enough." He slid a finger inside me. Two. Circled his fingertips against my G-spot in exactly the same rhythm his tongue played against my clit. "Oh God, Leo!" "Mmm," he murmured against my inner thigh. "Piper Holt." He nudged me with his mouth, tasting my skin, the wetness around my pussy of which even I was aware and made the motion of his fingers that much slicker. Still tender inside, I gasped. "What’s wrong?" His head lifted, and I propped myself up on my elbows to get a proper look at him. "Tense?" I lowered myself back onto the sofa. "Uh-huh." His fingers stayed inside me, still moved, though slower. He had never hurt me, not intentionally, but now I understood the meaning of the word gentle. Leo Carson the gentleman. Another gasp. And I wasn’t sure if it was from me or him. "Piper, there’s something I want to do, but..." He slid 146

his fingers out, touched them to his lips as he knelt on the sofa above me, licked them. "But..." Then his hands were in my hair, and his tongue, tasting of me, ran along my lips and his weight was on top of me. Not crushing. Just above me. He stopped. Stared. Oh God. This is it. This is why I feel jittery. This is going to explain why I’m so uncomfortable. Why I can’-t— "I don’t want to hurt you." His hands tightened in my hair and mercifully, mercifully, he whispered against my lips rather than looking down at me from a distance. "I want to be inside you." My heart thumped. Or maybe it was that up to that point I hadn’t been aware of it beating, and now it thundered against my rib cage as if he already moved in me. "Piper?" He frowned, cocked his head, and kissed me again. Oh God, oh God, I don’t know what’s happening. Someone make it stop. Someone tell me what’s going on. "I want to be inside you but I don’t want to hurt you so just... say something. Tell me if it’s—" "No." He flinched. "I mean, no, it’s not wrong. Too soon, I mean. It isn’t. I..." My breath came in ragged bursts which I hoped conveyed desire rather than fear. I couldn’t take his scrutiny, his verbal probing any longer and the only way I could think of to stop it was to take him inside me. The simple fact was, I needed him inside me as much as he wanted to be there. "Tell me if it’s too soon. If you’re at all uncomfortable, then... I’ll stop." His hand went for his waistband. And over the low background music, I heard the pop, pop, pop of each button as they opened in sequence. "Christ, it’ll kill me to do it but I will." "Wait." And as promised, he stopped. Froze, in fact, one hand in my hair, the other inside his jeans. "Okay, I keep mine in my bedside table. Some in the bathroom cabinet, but... we’re in your living area, so...?" "Ah." Leo’s hand moved from his waistband to his 147

back pocket. He reached for something—I took an educated guess what—and tapped the tip of my nose with the foil square. "I, uh... tucked one into my jeans earlier, just in case..." "One?" "Okay, a couple." "You. Sneaky. Bastard." "Well..." He widened his eyes, looking not at all innocent but giving a damn good impression of a man who was trying to appear so. "You got me there." His expression went from playful to concerned, wide-eyed to frowning. And then his eyebrows lifted, this time not in feigned innocence, but anticipation. "Yes?" "Yes." The word was a simple exhalation. Inevitable. "Then..." He held the corner of the foil between his teeth and tore it open with his free hand. "You might want to help me with this." "I can’t. Nerves. You know. I might... tear it." "Jesus." He panted, pulled himself away from me and slumped against the sofa back in a lazy sitting position. "If your hands are that shaky, then, any chance of a hand job?" Despite my nerves—my inexplicable nerves, given that it wasn’t as if I’d never done this before, done him before—I laughed. God, I could easily fall— Piper fucking Holt. Shut the shit down on that line of thought right away! "Hey." Leo breathed the word against my mouth, against my open lips as he moved over me. Into me. "Oh." "What’s wrong?" he asked, halting the push, the easy slide. "Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I was just—" "Breathing?" "Yeah. Breathing." "That’s good, right?" "Yeah." I nodded. "Very good. Very— oh God." He’d pulled up my left knee with one hand just as my hand went to his face, his throat, stroked the hair on the back of his neck. "You know what I really want to do?" he asked. "I’d love to..." His lips moved to my jaw and whispered against 148

my ear, "I’d love to get as deep inside you as it’s possible to get." "Oh..." "But not if it’s gonna hurt—" "It won’t. I know." "How?" "Leo." My tone of voice drew his attention. His mouth against my ear stopped whispering and breathing against me as I spoke. "Go deep." "Say that again." "Go—" "No, not that. Say my name. Say it—" His voice broke, as if something inside him was on the verge of breaking too. "Say it like you just did there." He pulled back, from his hips, pushed forward while pulling my leg up further and wrapping it round his waist as tightly as we could stand. Then both his hands were in my hair again. "Say it." "Leo." "Don’t stop saying it. Are you sure I’m not hurting you?" "God, no. You’ll only hurt me if you stop." "Say it." "Leo, oh Jesus, do that again." "This?" He moved from the hips in exactly the way I liked, at exactly the right angle to make my G-spot feel bigger than it was, as if my entire body was an erogenous zone designed for him to move inside. "That’s just..." Perfect, I added in my head. I’d nearly lost it. Nearly lost control. But somehow I’d managed to hang on to that one shred of dignity which meant he was inside my body and not my mind. "Are you sure you’re okay with this?" His shoulders tautened under my hands, just as his fingers tightened in my hair, pulling, with each stroke he took inside me. "This doesn’t hurt?" "God no." "Tell me how it feels. And... and..." He faltered as my nails dug in to his juddering shoulders. "Use." He gulped. "Fuck." "Your name?" "Fucking Christ, Piper, you... you have to do 149

something." "Anything." The word was out before I could stop it. "Promise." "Anything." It got easier each time. I’d have said it three times, ten, a hundred, a thousand, if he’d wanted. "Use your—" He stopped to breathe a puff of laughter against my jaw, as if partly embarrassed. "No. Dig your nails in. Hurt me," he growled. "Every time I move inside you, I want your nails in my back." No compliance was needed, at least in words. Every time he moved, and he moved agonizingly slowly, my hands raked across his shoulder blades. "Leo." He made no sound but a low moan, his breath catching momentarily. A grunt, a gasp, a whisper of "Ahhh..." into my mouth when my nails raked down his shoulders to his mid back. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, Piper. Just keep saying my name when I do something right." The desperation in his voice, his cock’s slow friction against my G-spot, his hips’ slow movement against my clit. Oh Christ, Leo, I can’t take this. "What?" One panicked word from him and he stopped mid stroke. "Don’t stop!" "Babe, you said you couldn’t—" "I said that out loud?" "Yeah, you—" I clawed the skin of his back, eliciting a feral growl from the back of his throat. "Don’t. Fucking. Stop. I was nearly..." "Piper." His forehead was clammy against mine. Or maybe it was me who was sweating. No. We both were. In between labored breaths, he said, "There is only one thing more important to me right now than making you come and that is making sure I don’t hurt you worse than I did earlier." "Leo, you didn’t hurt me. You made me come so hard I..." I gulped. "It wasn’t... it was..." "Babe, I was responsible for that and I—" "Leo." This time the word he loved to hear was emphatic, not desperate, and he stopped. Looked me right in the eye. And for some reason, this time I could take it. It 150

was exactly what I wanted him to do, at that moment. "If you... If you think that making me come is going to hurt, and if you think that means you have to stop... I swear to God, I will tear you apart with my bare hands." His lips, underneath a Cupid’s bow beaded with perspiration, curled into a shy smile before covering my own. "You," he said, breaking the kiss, "are fucking amazing. And I... I just want to make sure you’re not... I mean, I..." His head dipped, nestling into the curve of my neck as he started moving again. From the hips, and slowly, gently, setting off the earliest sparks of orgasm inside me, the warmth radiating out from where his cock stroked me. "I wouldn’t hurt you for..." "Anything." "Anything." He nodded and at such an odd angle, the stubble on his jaw rubbed along my neck. That was when he tipped me over the edge. When it all got too much. When the edges of my vision clouded over. When my nails dug into his shoulders, clawed at him, raking, pulling, trying to get him to push harder. "Say it. Say it again." "Leo." "Say it when you come." His lips were a whisper away from mine now, as he breathed against me, panted almost. "I want to hear you say it when you—Jesus, you have to come now, baby, I’m going to -" "Leo..." "Now, I can’t hold off—" "Leo..." "Jesus, you feel so—" "Leo!"

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Fifteen In the middle of the night, I lay still with my eyes closed. Much of my body ached. Pleasantly so. The throb of well-used muscles, tender after an extended workout. Deep breath. Cool air rasped the back of my throat, reminding me of screams, gasps, talking, swearing, barking of orders, biting, tasting, kissing. "Mmm," he murmured, as if reading my mind, throwing his arm across my waist. I opened my eyes, blinked, waited for the nightblindness to dissipate. Like a photographer watching for his subject matter to appear in a developing shot, I saw Leo. One half of his face lost in the marshmallow-like softness of the pillow, the other shaded by near-absolute darkness, but his silhouette still recognizable. His breath cooled the curve of my cheek as I too half-turned to the pillow. With his every inhalation I felt drawn to him and with every exhalation, rejected. My breathing fell into the same pattern as his, only in reverse. Our breaths whispered back and forth, like waves. Wake up. His hand on the small of my back, his fingertips tickling the curve of my spine. A twitch. No, a squeeze. His thumb ran across the small of my back, his fingertips giving my backside a gentle squeeze. But in his sleep. Why don’t you wake up? I shifted, aware of the cramp threatening my legs, my 152

spine, the arm on which I’d been lying. Leo Carson had twisted me like a pretzel and now I felt it. There was a slight shift in the pressure of his hand which told me he drifted towards consciousness. Still touching, but not a dead weight. An easing as I moved, to allow me to move. He half-breathed, half-moaned. Now. We came together in a twist of limbs, our movements flowing as if coordinated, planned, in tune, choreographed. His lips devoured mine, knowing I’d be there, knowing I too was awake, facing him, ready, responsive. His tongue flickered along my lips, parted them, slid along my own tongue, slowly, lazily, tired, half-asleep and oh so seductive. When his arm lifted off my body I startled, but it was moments before he touched me again, hooked my leg around him then pulled my knee up higher. Ah, so that was why you moved your hand. Not a rejection. An adjustment. His shallow breaths came together in a grunt as he pushed his cock into me in one deep thrust. "Jesus." A murmur, but one which made him sound desperate to go deeper. "Oh God." No waiting, no build-up, no foreplay, just in and he moved, worked his hips against me. I clung to him, a hand clawing at his back even as I arched mine to force more of him inside, needing him, amazed at my own capacity for need. "God, Piper, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this, you—" He stopped. Froze. "Shit." He pulled out, tore himself away, gasping in apparent horror. "Fuck!" "What?" I ached, devoid of him. A hard stone formed in my chest where my heart should have been and pounded. Slowly. The rhythm of his thrusts echoed in the adrenaline coursing through me, along with panic and fear and shame. "Fuck, fuck, fu—" "I get the general idea, but...oh." Enlightenment washed over me in a cool wave. "Oh, right." "Yeah." Leo lay on his back, one hand across his forehead and eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly, then less so, then less so again. The cardinal sin of one night—of weekenders. We’d 153

forgotten to use a condom. Got carried away. Let our halfasleep lust take over, distracted as we were by somnolence. "Still." His free hand came up to stroke my arm. At first, as he’d jerked away from me, I’d thought it was me in the wrong, something about me that had disgusted or horrified him. Logic told me this wouldn’t be the case but I was extra-sensitive to signs of his disapproval for reasons I wasn’t ready to face up to. "I didn’t come inside you." God, you have no idea what those three words do to me, Leo. Come inside me. I want you to. I want to feel you"Piper?" He stroked me again. "Are you all right?" I took a deep breath in through my nose. Exhaled through my mouth. "I’m fine." Lies, all lies. Not fine at all. "You sure?" "Yes. Really." Liar. "It was a mistake. I was half asleep." "We both were." "I started to wake up. I just felt you there and..." Even lying down, with one palm to his forehead, he managed to shrug and make it look sexy. "I had to get inside you again." I fell onto my back, stared at the skylight and the stars beyond. Something inside me shifted and that stone heart of mine sank through treacle. Piper, you crazy woman, why do you feel like this? No answer came. I couldn’t even specify what it was I felt. "Hey, you." The stroking on my arm became a more forceful rub. "Don’t fall back asleep yet." Why? Do you want to start again? "Are you mad at me?" No, then. You just wanted to clear the air. "No, no, of course not." "I’ve never done that before. Forgot myself I mean." He flipped onto his side, propped himself up on one elbow. "Must be you leading me astray." "Don’t blame me for this, Carson. You tried pulling the innocent act earlier and you still don’t have me fooled." "What? I am innocent." A whisper of a laugh. "Honestly. I’d never do... this... for instance..." His free hand slid under the duvet, across my hip and lay there, not stroking or fondling, but the mere pressure of his hand was 154

enough for the familiar warmth to spread under my skin, to radiate out from the point of contact. "You’re depraved, Leo Carson," I said a millisecond before he kissed me, a mere peck on the lips. "No one was born as dirty as you. It’s an acquired skill." "Are you accusing me of having a filthy past? ’Cause... well, yeah, filthy, I’ll give you that..." He bent his head to my nipple, worked it between his lips gently, so gently it was almost a tickle. "A misspent youth, then." "If it taught me how to do depraved things to you then it obviously wasn’t misspent, was it?" "Damn, I’ve... oh God, Leo, you... oh yes..." His head lifted. "What did you stop for?" "Well... can’t have you thinking I’m a dirty-minded pervert, can I?" "For fuck’s sake-" "Oh well done, darling. Swearing like an Irishman. I must be rubbing off on you." "You’re a bad influence. Clearly." "I’m pure. Innocent. Never done anything wrong—" "You’ve got the morals of an alley cat, really, haven’t you?" "I take exception to that, Piper." His finger slid deeper inside me. "I may be a little bit mischievous, but I have morals." Circled gently. "Loose ones, but they’re the only ones I have." Another finger slid inside. I lifted my hips off the bed so his fingertips would brush against my G-spot and my breathing quickened. "And my friends still love me, even if I’m divorced and I know how to hotwire a car and I once broke my brother’s nose throwing a cassette recorder at him." "You... " My body wanted to lift further off the bed, despite Leo’s revelation sending ice water through my veins. "You...?" "I was only thirteen, though." His speech so matter-offact, his fingers so gentle inside me. "And he forgave me. Once it healed, and I let him hit me back to make up for it." "No, the other..." How can you reveal something like that when you’re— 155

"The car? Yeah. Same brother who taught me how." "No, the- " "I was twenty-two. It lasted a year and a half." He cradled my head with one hand, lay down beside me and kissed me. A light peck on the lips. "I’m a divorced Irishman. Insanely impulsive in matters of the heart." Kiss. "With a history of violence against both battery-operated household devices and annoying older siblings." Another kiss. "And I broke the law in my youth." His tongue parted my lips, slid along my own, tasting me. "I’ve been drunk more times than is healthy." Deeper, this time, with tongue and fingers. "I’ve done hash and E, a few lines of coke." They crooked against my G-spot and I lost my breath. "Shoplifted, too." Stroked faster. "But I think I can be forgiven for all of that because I know how to make you come." Oh you do. You do. It had been in the back of my mind ever since my arrival at his apartment when he’d made that remark about the next time he got married. And now he’d confirmed it... I didn’t care. Simply. Didn’t. Care. "Leo." "I love it when you say my name like that. You can’t quite breathe but have to say something and it may as well be my name." He smiled against my mouth, barely giving me room to speak again. Or draw breath. "I’ve never met anyone who moves like you, sweetheart." His fingers went deeper and I gasped, just as he seemed to want me to. "I want—" "Tell me. I know what you want but I need to hear it." "I want... I want you inside me." "I am." "No, not your... your fingers..." "You want my cock inside you?" He whispered right in my ear, a breathy taunt making me shiver. "Then..." He slid his fingers out of me. His weight shifted and he leaned over to the side of the bed. The bedside cabinet drawer opened and I exhaled through pursed lips, under my breath, praying he wouldn’t hear the relief in my exhalation. 156

Relief because I knew what he was doing, at last. There was something so sexy about the sight of him, covered by darkness but still visible in glimpses, naked, the smell of him, the touch, when one was about to make l— Fuck. "You what?" "Oh. I did it again?" "Did what again?" Foil tearing, Leo lying flat on his back, rolling the condom on. "Said something out loud when I was thinking it." "You thought the word ‘fuck’ and ended up blurting it out? Piper Holt, I am shocked at your behavior. Come here and take your punishment." I straddled him, kneeling up, hovering above his cock, let it touch the lips of my pussy. His whole body twitched, his back arching off the bed but I lifted myself out of the way. Grabbing my hips, he tried to pull me down onto him but I wriggled. "Leo. Let me." I slid his cock an inch inside and moaned at the pressure, the feeling of being stretched and filled up. He too let out an undefined exhalation, something quieter than a groan, from the back of his throat. He gripped the slats of his headboard with both hands and pushed up, even as I moved down onto him. "Piper? Do... fucking hell... do that thing with your hips again." Circling my hips, I moved forward and edged back. Easing him out of me, then back in, instantly turned on and trying not to come too soon. It had to endure because I didn’t know when would be our last time. Those words, last time, sucked the breath out of my lungs and as I leaned forward, my hands contracted on his chest, and he winced but said nothing. I tried to press him down onto the mattress but his hips were too much for me, pushing back, forcing him deeper, almost painfully so, but the pain was exquisite. Addictive. Leo’s hands whipped from the headboard to my hips where they belonged and pulled me down onto him, winding me further. "Sorry. I..." He smoothed my hair back off my face, entwined his fingers in it, pulled my face down to his. The jokes were gone. He’d never apologized in such a sincere tone before, never seemed so desperate to touch 157

me, to have his hands in my hair and our bare skin touching. His cock slid out, in, only an inch or so but enough for our combined movements to spark off miniature explosions inside me. Bracing myself with a hand on either side of his face, anger at the darkness obscuring his features flared up but there was relief too, because as I moved, slowly, to delay orgasm, I was able to pretend I looked into his eyes with no embarrassment. Pretend the hours to separation weren’t ticking by. His hands dug into my hip bones, guiding me back and forth, but only his first push and retreat were forceful; after that he fell into my rhythm, a slower one. But still went deep enough for the contours of his cock to touch my G-spot. Every point of contact between us; thighs, his hands creeping up my back, the slow, deep strokes he took inside me, crackled with electricity. It’s not supposed to be like this. This is only... A tighter grip on me, more forceful thrusts. "Come on, darlin’, you’re gonna come, I know you are. Piper... come here..." He whispered words into my mouth like the kiss of life. "I’m gonna roll you over..." Hands moved from my waist, up, cupped my breasts. "I’m gonna get you on your back and keep fucking you from on top." "Oh God. Leo. I don’t know how you can... speak like that while..." He pulled me closer, forced my chest onto his. Perspiration made our skin slippery. "I can almost make out the look on your face when we’re this close but there’s not enough..." He stopped, both his speech and his movements, lay absolutely still under me. His stillness lasted for only a few seconds. In my weakened state I put up no resistance to him shifting his weight, holding my hips tight so he could stay deep inside and roll me onto my back. "There’s not enough light." He stretched past me to the bedside table and I knew what was coming. He flicked a switch and the sudden brightness made me gasp, cover my eyes. Leo laughed, took my hand, hesitated, probably to give me time enough to adjust, and moved it away from my 158

face. Then the other. "There." He kissed me, lifted his head and his gaze flickered from my eyes to my mouth. "I wanted to see you." The simplicity of his words made me shiver and I had no control over what my body did. It simply reacted. To him. Sparks jolted up my spine, exploded at the back of my neck. I think I cried out with each slow stroke of Leo’s cock inside me. "Piper?" Agonizingly slow thrusts and a low voice made him more seductive than usual. "Piper, honey, are you... oh God, you’re so beautiful when you’re this close." I had little, if any, fight left. Didn’t even know what I was fighting against. "Do you like that?" Leo moved from the hips, entangling his fingers in my hair again, cradling my face despite my desire to throw my head back and scream. But I couldn’t. For some reason I remained nearsilent. The only sounds were his rapid breaths against my neck, the glide of sweat-soaked skin on skin, the occasional creak of the bed as our collective weight shifted. I wondered how he knew, supposed I must have told him. I loved it when he waited for me to get this close and forced himself as deep as possible and circled. Slowly, quickly, I didn’t care as long as he made that move. But how did he know? How did he know the exact moment I wanted him to do that? "God..." I gasped, finding my voice again, miraculously. "You’re..." Amazing. Incredible. Perfect. "Oh fuck. Oh fucking hell, I can’t wait. Piper, you’re—" Instead of burying his head in the curve of my neck as he drove himself closer to orgasm, Leo tangled my hair tighter around his fingers and looked down at me, eyes widening every time he circled his hips, every time I moved beneath him. Panting, he touched his forehead to mine and licked his lips. My hands snaked around him, gripped his shoulders and from that moment on all I knew were flashes, pieces, details. The tears obscuring my vision, the tightening of his muscles under my hands as he fought to keep control over himself while making me lose my own. The need to have all of him inside me. The gentle creaking of the bed frame 159

speeding up as he fucked me faster, except fucking wasn’t the right word. The way he looked at me, into me, biting his lip. And... I stopped fighting. This is what Gray felt. My entire body juddered and it could have been fright. It could have been the way each stroke of his cock pushed me closer. "Piper, I can’t wait-" "Oh... Leo, I... I..." Just as my spine rippled with an orgasm so intense I couldn’t even make a sound, I caught the look in his eyes. He watched me fall apart and only then let himself come, pulling me closer to him as if trying to get inside me in a thousand different ways, not moaning or even whimpering, just breathing into me. Leo rode it out until the last pulse inside me died, until his breathing slowed, until my thoughts remembered how to cohere. I didn’t want this. "My God, Piper, that was something else." He gave a half-smile and laughed, and I wondered if his eyes were watering, or perhaps it was nothing more than their usual sparkle. This is going to hurt. "You’re something else." He stroked my hair, kissed my lips, jaw, neck, finally allowed his weight to rest against me and even then his heart still pounded. Slowed, but thundered. "Fuck. You’ll kill me." He pulled my arms around him but my limbs felt weak. Hollow. And it wasn’t the aftermath of a spine-bending orgasm that made my heart gallop. It was fear. This was not supposed to happen.

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Sixteen Somehow I managed to tear myself away from him long enough to shower and dress in the morning, breakfast quickly, make myself look respectable. As if we hadn’t been naked and sweating and gasping and clawing at each other for thirty-six hours straight. He insisted on driving me to work, even though his riverside apartment was close enough to the city centre for me to walk there in ten minutes. He looked at me with those chocolate eyes and asked if I really wanted to trudge ‘all that way’ on my tired little feet. I think he pouted as well. Wondering if he was being a gentleman or trying to keep me as near to him as he could for as long as possible, I surrendered, even while telling myself not to get attached. No, Piper, he’s just looking after you. He’s a gentleman. He’s fed you and fucked you; now he’s safely delivering you to your next port of call. Passing you on. "I need to go into the office today anyway, so it’s on my way." "What is it you do, anyway? And if you’re your own boss, why don’t you work from home?" "I’d never get anything done if I kept all my paperwork and computers here. Too many distractions. Television, music, cooking... the bed." He winked. "And sometimes a change of scenery is what you need. I work with another guy so it’s better that way. Saves us shunting a bunch of folders and a laptop or two from one flat to another if we just meet up in the office. Keeps work separate from home as well. I like to keep this place for the more fun pursuits." He winked as he picked up his keys from the 161

kitchen countertop and something inside me melted. "Property development." "Oh." I prayed it hadn’t come out as a gasp of excitement, that I didn’t sound too impressed. "That explains this place, then." "This place? What’s wrong with it?" "Nothing, nothing, that’s just what I meant. It’s not your typical bachelor pad. Not that you are a bachelor, mind you, having been—" "Married and divorced, yes. I fail at life." Judging by his smirk, he clearly did not think that was the case. "I just meant... it’s so fresh and clean and... big." "Everything about me is, babe." "Dirty bastard." Leo sniggered. "Sorry. Go on." "There’s no clutter. It looks like a show home, if you want me to be honest." "Thank you. It was a mess when I bought it, which is why I got it so cheap. Put the mezzanine in myself. Well, not myself. Paid someone to do it, but project managed it. Bought a few things while on my travels. Those photographs on the wall, for instance. Picked those up at a gallery in Vancouver. Limited edition Jason Connors." The name meant nothing to me, so I murmured something neutral and waited for him to finish gathering his bits and pieces; keys, wallet, phone. While he did so I took a last glance around his loft apartment and tried not to sigh as he opened the door and we stepped out. Childish, but I wanted to say goodbye to the house or at least felt that I ought to. We said nothing as we waited for the lift. I carried my overnight bag; he didn’t offer to take care of it for me. Standing side by side, we watched the panel counting up the numbers until the doors opened. He let me step forward first, ever the gent. Doors slid shut, he pressed the G button for the ground floor. No one has ever touched me— I cleared my throat as if by doing so I could clear my mind of the image of him sliding a finger inside me"Something up?" Leo asked, frowning. "No, no." 162

"Sounded like you were choking." "No. Just clearing my throat." "Oh. Good." He nodded, stood at my side, didn’t seem to hear the screaming in my head. Touch me, just touch me, for God’s sake. Just your hand, on my arm. Something. One floor down. He coughed. Lightly. Looked at me. I tried not to notice. Failed. Finally I gave in and met his gaze with my own. He bit his lip and although he didn’t strike me as being lacking in self-confidence, he appeared uncertain then. "You know..." "What?" "I think you should put your bag down." "Why?" "Jesus..." he muttered. "Just do as you’re bloody told, woman, will you? Quick." So I did, dropping my bag where I stood and he grabbed my waist with both of his hands, shoved me up against the lift wall, forcing the breath out of me and before I had a chance to catch it, his lips were on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his hands traveling up my body, clinging to every inch. Then on either side of my neck, in my hair, stroking my jaw. There was something desperate in his kiss, the way his lips were just there, his tongue was just there, in my mouth, more than tasting. Searching. "God." Even after he broke the kiss, he kept his hands in my hair still wet from the shower, panting against my face. "I had to do that before the doors opened." He kissed me again, a peck, still not ready to stop. "I’ve always had a thing about doing things I shouldn’t, in places I shouldn’t be doing them." "Why..." I took a few more seconds to catch my breath. "And why shouldn’t you have kissed me?" He motioned up to one corner with a tilt of his head. "Security cameras." "Fuck." Standing back, lifting his hands off me, he laughed. "What? You don’t let a little CCTV bother you, do you?" "You never told me there was a camera up there." 163

He shrugged, faced front again, as if the kiss had never happened. "Meh. They’ve probably recorded worse. And..." Leo waited until I picked up my bag and stood at his side again. "I know I sure as fuck have done worse on camera." "What?" I looked up at him and he winked, saying nothing more as the lift doors opened and he strode ahead, looking over his shoulder only to throw a few words at me. "Well? Are you coming with me or not?" Shaking my head, I followed him into the underground parking garage. "This is mine here." I stopped in my tracks. "This...?" At the passenger side, he looked back at me. "Yeah, what’s wrong with it?" "Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s... a Jag." Leo grinned under my obvious approval. "Yeah. I love her." "Her?" "All cars are female. I’m sure you can insert your own joke about a ‘ride’ there." "A black Jag, eh?" "Yes. A black Jag. Would madam care to get in? Oh, you can put your bag in the boot if you’d prefer." "No, no, I’ll be fine. There should be room." It was a rare thing, having a man open a car door for me, so I enjoyed it while it lasted. Feeling deliciously decadent, I got in, backside first, then legs, and arranged my bag at my feet. When he got in the driver’s side, I laughed softly. "I’m surprised you got a two-seater though." "Don’t tell me." He started her up and we pulled away. "You’re thinking I look like the kinda guy who’d make good use of a backseat?" He kept his eyes on the road but I was free to look at him, drink in the line of his jaw and the stubble loosely covering it, the smirk, the dimple. "Given what I know of you..." "Yeah, yeah, I know. You think I’m a pervert." "I know you are." When my own smile grew almost painfully wide, I turned away, looked out of the passenger window. "You know how to get there?" I asked and my 164

throat swelled up, painfully so. "Yeah, yeah. I’ve never been inside your diner but I know where it is. Passed it plenty of times." I’d never seen a black Jag speed past, but given the speeds of which it was capable, all I had to do was blink to miss it. "They’re gonna love me rocking up in a Jag this time on a Monday morning." "Impress them, will it?" It impresses me, I wanted to say. "It’ll stand out. They’ll probably wonder who’s driving it." "And now you’ll be able to tell them." "Ah. I’ll just say I picked you up in a bar and don’t know your name." He reached across to my knee, his hand inching up the inside of my thigh for a moment or two before he lifted it away. "Damn it. Apparently there are laws about keeping both hands on the wheel, so much as I’d love to..." "You’d break laws on hotwiring a car but not on driving it when you’re in it?" "Hey, wench—this is my car, not stolen!" Through his protestations, Leo laughed. "Bought and paid for, fair and square. Besides, all those laws I broke were in my youth." "Even the coke...?" "Okay, okay, you got me. The laws I break these days are in the safety of my own home." "Or the safety of a lift?" "That wasn’t breaking the law. That was just mischief. And..." He shrugged. "And, I felt horny." "When do you not?" I sniggered, surprised at my own ability to laugh, despite the fact it was Monday morning. I was about to start work. Leo Carson was about to drop me there and speed off into the sunset. "You sighed. You sound fed up." "Did I?" How to cover my tracks? "Oh, just work. Not in the mood." "You should pull a sickie." "And risk getting the sack, or facing the wrath of my boss?" "Hell, I could’ve gone in there and sorted them out for you. No one can resist the might of the Carson. And here we 165

are." He pulled over, cut the engine and sat back. Leaning against the headrest, he turned to look at me. "Safely delivered to the diner. So this is where you work, huh?" "It is." I undid the seatbelt, not looking at him now, because one mere glance would have me wanting to stay. I already did want to stay but the way his voice had dropped to a husky whisper... I knew he’d be looking at me through his eyelashes, giving me puppy dog eyes... driving me a hair’s breadth from the decision to let my job go hang and telling him to take me back to his place... "Hey..." His hand came to rest on top of mine, as my other reached for the door. "I think you’re forgetting something." He lifted the hand which had made contact with my arm, beckoned with his forefinger. "A goodbye kiss is in order, I think." Ah, there it is. The word ‘goodbye’. My heart sank even as he leaned in and I mirrored him. Even as his hand brushed my hair away from my cheek and mine came to rest on his thigh. Even as his tongue slipped into my mouth and my chest heaved with instant arousal. The kiss broke off, but as before, his hand stayed in my hair. "Piper," he whispered against my lips. "You’re making it very difficult for me to get out of this car and go to work, Carson." I tried to sound admonishing, but my voice was soft and breathy, as was his, husky with desire. "And you’re making it very hard for me, Holt." "You know what’ll happen." "You’ll have another orgasm or two, so will I. We won’t be able to walk for a month, stupid grin on my face, everyone’s happy. I really don’t see the fuckin’ problem." He lifted both hands in a Gallic shrug and raised his eyebrows, looked for all the world like a man trying but not quite managing to look innocent. I knew better. I knew him better. Hand. On door. Open door. Exit. Now. "Bye Leo." I winked and turned away before he could reply. Get the fuck out of here. Despite the thundering of my heart and panic rising in the back of my throat, I managed to get out of the car without knowing how I summoned the willpower. 166

I bent down to look at him once more. Just once. Give me that. My willpower didn’t stretch to slamming the door shut behind me without looking back and striding into the workplace now so boring and mundane by comparison. Those eyes. "Have a nice day, Holt." He winked up at me, reached for the inside door handle. Ask me to stay. Once more. Ask me and I’ll do it. How the hell have I managed to say no to you so many times? I hate my job. It was okay. Then there was you. Now it’s... Ask me to stay. Hell, I’ll quit my shitty little job altogether if you want. All you have to do is ask. I took a deep breath. Made it a slow one, just to give him time. Nothing. Summoning acting skills of which Hilary Swank would be proud, I grinned. "And, uh... thanks for the ride, Carson." And like an automaton, my body straightened, let the door go, watched him pull it shut then turned and marched into the diner. While Leo Carson drove away with some indescribable, unnamed piece of me.

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Seventeen "Girl, what is your problem today?" Karen, one of my workmates, asked that afternoon as we took a brief lunch break in the staff room. "You’re in a world of your own." "Am I?" I tried to look nonchalant but it required such effort in the end I gave up and yawned. And no wonder, after so little sleep. The fluorescent strip lights in the poky chamber lulled me closer to sleep with each intermittent flicker. "Yes. Come on. Tell all. Splitting from that slurping douchecock hasn’t taken such a toll on your emotional wellbeing that you’re losing sleep over him, has it?" "Was he really that bad?" I asked, suddenly curious. "I mean, was I making a tit of myself going out with him? No, wait." I pushed my plate aside, having left most of my macaroni cheese to waste. The ache just below my ribs wasn’t hunger pangs and couldn’t be cured by a plate of pasta. "No, no, he’s a looker. I’ll give you that. You know how to pick ‘em, but..." Karen tutted and her black brows knitted together. She leaned across the Formica-topped table, balancing on her elbows and I mirrored her stance, sucked in to her conspiratorial mood. "You came into work a few times frowning. And when anyone asked what was up, you’d say Andrew in that voice of yours—" "What voice?" "That ‘don’t fuck with me, this is bigger than PMT’ voice." Karen’s lips thinned to a bleached line. "Makes me wonder why anyone goes out with a fella who pisses them off so much. I could see the end coming you know." She sat 168

back, a stern look on her face. "Far be it from you to say you told me so, huh?" "Oh no, no, no. Well, yeah. I was waiting for the day you’d split. You didn’t smile much when you were with Andrew, did you know that?" "No, no. I didn’t. Not at all?" "Oh in the beginning, when it was new, yeah. But in the end?" She shrugged. "Not so much. Crisp?" She offered a mini tub of Pringles but I shook my head, no. "Not hungry." "Hmm. You have got it bad, whatever’s eating you. If it’s not Andrew." "Hell no." I shook my head. "I haven’t thought about him in ages." I sipped my can of coke and set it down again. "I haven’t forgotten anyone’s orders today," I pointed out. "Or dropped anything." "No, but you haven’t smiled either, which is why I thought Andrew was messing with your brains." "Nope." "Okay." She stretched back in the plastic chair, drumming the tips of her fingers on the table edge. "Then what’s his name?" "Who?" "Don’t fuck with me, Holt. The only thing that could make a woman drift around her workplace like you’re doing today has a cock and balls and—" Snorting with laughter, I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. "Karen!" "Oh, like you’re not used to such crude talk. Do me a favor." She hadn’t mentioned the black Jag or enquired after its driver so I assumed she hadn’t seen Leo drop me off. Or perhaps she hadn’t made the connection, which was unlikely as how many people with Jaguars did we know? They’d be bound to stand out. Especially if she’d seen me clambering out of one. In a way I was glad of her lack of Jaguar-specific interrogation, because if someone made enquiries I’d want to talk about him so much that once started, I’d find it impossible to shut up. "I’m just tired, that’s all," I said, hoping she’d drop it. Knowing she wouldn’t. 169

Her raised eyebrows and crossed arms told me so. "Honestly. I haven’t had much sleep." "Hmm." If it were possible, her eyebrows inched even higher and she rearranged her crossed arms under her ample bosom in a positively sarcastic way, tilting her chair on its back legs as she did so. "Karen. Stop it." "Stop what?" "Stop looking at me like... okay, okay, I give up. I’ve been shagging all weekend." "Ha!" she screeched, letting the chair drop and jabbing at me with one finger. "Thought so! What’s his name?" "Karen Lynch. What makes you think I got his name?" "Nothing would surprise me. So come on, ‘fess up." "Don’t you have a life of your own?" "With that joke of a husband? Are you kidding? No. I live my social life vicariously through tarts like you." "Thanks a bundle." "Ah, I mean it as a term of endearment," she said with a wave of one hand. "I haven’t been out on the piss in ages." "I wasn’t drunk, you know." "Was he?" "We only had one drink." "Hmm. Fast worker, eh?" "I didn’t pick him up that night. I knew him beforehand." "How long for? Twenty-four hours?" "Oh, excuse me, I think I just prolapsed my sphincter muscles laughing so much." "Yeah, yeah. I know. That’s long term for you, isn’t it?" "A week." Karen whistled through pursed lips. "So you met a dude after your split from Andrew and you’ve already spent the night with him?" "Nearly the whole weekend." "Ooh. Bit of a stud was he?" "Shame, I’d love to stop and chat but break time’s nearly over." "You’re not getting out of it that easily." "Gotta get back to work now." 170

"Piper. Stop it. You’ve got to at least tell me what he was like." "Exhausting." I stood, carrying my plate, planning to scrape it into the bin before rinsing and leaving it on the draining board. Staff room hygiene was a little more lax than that of the customer kitchen, but no one had died of botulism in front or back of house, so I figured we were good. "Are you seeing him again?" I flinched. Felt it happen, hoped Karen hadn’t seen it. "Well?" Persistent little bugger, aren’t you? I wanted to ask, without a clue how to answer. Replying in the negative would hurt too damn much. Replying in the affirmative would be untrue because I... just... "Don’t know." I shrugged, marveling at my shoulders’ ability be casual when the heart beneath them most definitely was not. "We didn’t make any arrangements to meet up again." The words, bitter ashes on my tongue, made me want to gag. I wanted out of the room, or at least away from Karen and her questions but my feet refused to move. "But... if you knew him for a week before you hooked up, he must have got in touch somehow so I’m assuming he’s got your number?" Warmth spread out from the ache below my ribs and it took me a second to realize what it was. Hope. "Yes. He does." "Maybe he’ll call." "Maybe he will." Joy rose within me. "Maybe he won’t." And dissolved. "Maybe he got what he wanted," I added, knowing there was no maybe about it. Sure he had. What I didn’t know was if he was the type of man to be up for a rematch. Oh sure, he could easily have gone again this morning, but the point was, that might have been because I was there. Available. Would he go out of his way to seek me out now the conquest had been... well, conquered? Battle won, challenge met, target fucked, mission accomplished? "There’s only one thing I can say to all this, Piper." "Oh?" I rolled my eyes and sighed. There was no point 171

in protesting verbally; Karen would say it anyway. An eye roll and a sigh were my versions of rebellion. "I just hope he’s a better man than Andrew was." A sharp burst of laughter sprang out of me. "Oh God, yeah. Jesus..." As I shook my head, tears of hilarity welled up in my eyes. Or at least I told myself that’s what they were. "No contest. Absolutely no contest." "Good." She winked. "Then Andrew is out of your system, then?" "Karen. Andrew was out of my system before he was out of the relationship." Gratified to see a genuine smile on Karen’s face by way of reply, I continued. "There’s no fear of me backsliding to the days when I thought dating men like Andrew Kincaid was a good idea." "Yes, those long gone days of only a few weeks ago?" "A lot can change in a few weeks," I pointed out, ignoring the voice at the back of my mind which added, a lot can change in a weekend.

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Eighteen "All right, all right, hold your bloody horses!" I yelled as the doorbell rang for the third time in quick succession. My forehead tightened in an uncontrolled frown but I stopped mid-stride in my hall, stared at the front door and my facial muscles relaxed as I remembered what had happened there not long since, wondering, hoping... Steps quickening, I soon got to the front door, unlocked it, hauled it open"Oh. It’s you." "Piper." That disapproving tone again, making me feel as if I’d done something wrong. "Is that any way to greet your boyfriend?" "Ex-boyfriend." "Yeah, yeah, whatever." Andrew shrugged. "Aren’t you gonna invite me in?" "I didn’t exactly invite you to my front door, did I?" "Oh, you know what I mean. Now I’m here." "You didn’t think of phoning first?" "Ah, but you could have ignored my calls." "And if I had, what would that have told you?" He sighed heavily, looking surprisingly childlike. He wore a red fleece jacket with the hood down, jeans and trainers. The uniform of a youth a decade younger than his twenty-five years. "As I’m here..." "What do you want?" "I believe I left some things here." "Such as?" Another shrug. "CDs. Couple of books. Nothing important, but..." He took a step back as if leaving, or 173

considering doing so. "Oh, fine, fine, come in. And be quick about it." "Charming." He stepped across the threshold and I shut the door behind him. "It’s not that late." "No, it isn’t, but..." "Expecting someone?" he asked, the hint of a sneer in his voice. Instant denial might be a bad idea; better to let him think someone was due round so he wouldn’t hang about long. Then again he might be curious about my mysterious (non-existent) visitor. "What did you leave here anyway? Your Judy Garland CDs and penis pump, wasn’t it?" "Can’t we be civil about this?" "Oh all right then, if you insist. Not that that’s any fun. Go on, you know where the living room is." "How do you know I didn’t leave any of my gear in the bedroom?" He raised his eyebrows and a half smile touched his lips. Briefly I wondered if this was his attempt at making himself attractive. Was he... was he flirting? A shudder tickled at the small of my back, threatening to ripple my spine but I shifted, managed to shake it down. "There’s nothing of yours in that room, believe me, Andrew." Trying to convince myself he wouldn’t do anything, especially given our exchange the night we’d finished, I followed him to the living room, hovered in the doorway, waited for him to say something, do something, break the awkward silence. He stood in the middle of my living room with his back to me, looking around the place as if all was new, as if he hadn’t been here a thousand times before. As I watched him, it struck me; this had always been my place. Andrew’s had always been his. We’d never considered moving in together. At least I hadn’t. Of course I’d loved him in my own way; I wouldn’t have stayed with him otherwise, but I suppose in the back of my mind I’d never seen it as permanent, heading in the direction of being a true, unified couple. Damn it, was Andrew a placeholder boyfriend all along? I straightened, no longer leaning on the door frame. Was I that desperate for male company I was willing to stay with a guy I could never commit to, just until something 174

better came along? No, no, I reasoned. I finished with Andrew before I went with Gray. Or even met Leo. "Shit." I uncrossed my arms and Andrew spun round on his heels. "What?" "Nothing, nothing." Don’t think of Leo, I told myself, but it was as futile as that old saying, don’t think of a pink elephant. One’s brain never heard the ‘don’t’, filtering it out, jumping straight to the noun and fixating. Leo, Leo, Leo. "I left my Schadenfreude CDs here," he said. "You know where I keep everything. Just take them." They weren’t all his, but if that was what it took to make him leave, then fair enough. I’d buy replacements. Andrew was more of a fan than I was anyway; I suspected he only followed them because he fancied the lead singer. Not that he stood a chance; she had been banging the bassist from the moment she joined the band, or so the gossip columnists would have the fans believe. He liked to spread the tale of how he’d met her, Elena Something-or-other, backstage at one of their gigs and had a mild flirtation. The truth was probably closer to a drunken come-on and a hastily glossed-over knockback. A dinnerparty tale with arms and legs added until it became an urban myth which bore no resemblance to the events which had inspired it, knowing Andrew Kincaid. He remained in the middle of the room, failed to head to the glass-fronted cabinet where I kept all my CDs and DVDs. He cocked his head, his lips thinning as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. "Well?" I prompted, feeling as if I was doing all the work here. If, for the duration of his time here, conversation was like pulling teeth, I’d go mad. Of course, the simple solution would be not to have a conversation at all; shove the damn CDs into his arms and bundle him out the door but he looked as if he wanted to say something, and judging from his furrowed brow, thinned lips and set jaw, it wasn’t a declaration of love. Anything else I could deal with. But not that. 175

"Who was that guy on the phone?" "Ha!" The word, the sound, burst out of me and a smirk worked its way onto my face despite my inner turmoil over Andrew...and Leo. "That’s what this is about," I murmured, avoiding Andrew’s gaze. "Are you seeing him now?" "No," I said, rather too quickly. Even I was aware I could be seen to ‘protest too much’. "Well..." I shrugged. "It’s..." "It’s...?" "It’s none of your business, is what it is." I didn’t want to talk about Leo now. Discussing such a man as him with such a man as this seemed sacrilegious. "Come on, Piper. The way that guy spoke to me; he was obviously getting territorial. Something’s going on between you. Is it?" I took a deep breath, prepared to say yes. Prepared to say no. Prepared to tell him it was not his concern. "Andrew. You’d been pestering me with text messages and voicemails. I didn’t want to speak to you." "Way to make a guy feel wanted." If you were wanted I wouldn’t have finished with you, would I? "He took the phone off me. He was sticking up for me." "Defending your honor?" he sneered, and revulsion coiled in my stomach at the sound. There was something repellent in the way he looked at me; upper lip curled as if there was a bad smell under his nose. As if he hated me. Dislike I could have understood, hurt even, but hatred? Didn’t make sense. "I didn’t..." I began, but faltered at the expression on Andrew’s face. "Go on." "I didn’t want to rub your face in it—" "No? Really? I must say, Pipes, you’ve got a damn funny way of showing that then, getting your boyfriend to call me up and—" "He is not my boyfriend!" "Aw, what’s wrong, did he dump you?" "No, there was never anything going on between us in the first place, just a... a... thing." I shrugged, helplessly, 176

wondering why I was suddenly so defensive. "Define ‘thing’." "I don’t have to." "Oh yes you do, Pipes." He took a step forward and I took one back, my spinal fluid instantly turning to ice water. "You owe me that at least. The truth." Fear mingled with anger flared up. "We’re over; how many times do I need to tell you? Sure, you’re pissed off, you’ve got a right to be—" "Oh thank you so much, Princess, but let’s get one thing clear, you’re not worth it—" "No? Then why have you been pestering me with texts, voicemails, phone calls—" "You’re—" "Even coming round to my flat uninvited—" "You never used to object!" "Because we were a couple then! And we are not any longer." I spoke through gritted teeth, insanely irritated by him but still cautious, wondering if my ire would increase his, drive him to threats or violence. "So you got a one night stand to call me up and—" "No; he chose to," I pointed out, deciding my cowering from Andrew was exactly what he wanted. I took one step towards him. Another. Spoke again. "See, I was pissed off at the amount of times you’d been calling. Couldn’t see how to get it through your thick skull that I didn’t want to see you again because you’re nothing more than a selfish, insecure bastard." "There are other women who’d disagree with that, love." "Good for them. I have higher standards. Which is why I went with Leo, and why he chose to phone you to get you the hell off our backs." "Oh, Leo is it? You actually caught this one’s name?" Inside I faltered, hoped it hadn’t shown on the outside, that I hadn’t juddered or given any outward sign of my discomfiture. Judging by the twisted smile on Andrew’s lips, I had. "Christ, Andrew—you’re really beginning to annoy me now. If you hate me as much as you seem to, then why on Earth you’d want to even speak to me I don’t know. God, I 177

am so tired of this. Just pick up your damn CDs and have done with it." The way he stared made my heart skip and not in a good way. Not in the way Leo did. Oh for God’s sake Piper Holt, stop thinking about him. "Actually, no, you’re right. I should go." I perked up when he said that, surprised at his switch. "Oh?" He reached into his jacket, fumbled around, presumably in an inside pocket and withdrew something concealed within a closed fist. "I didn’t come here for the CDs at all. They don’t matter. They’re only... things. I came to give you this." I eyed his outstretched arm, not wanting to reach out to him in turn. To do so would be seen as some sort of compromise and I didn’t want to meet him halfway on anything, even something as trivial as this, taking something from him. Acceptance, both of a gift and him, was not on the menu. "What is it?" My gaze flicked up from his hand to his face, and he sighed so heavily it was almost a groan. "For God’s sake, why do women always say that?" His arm relaxed and hung at his side once more, though his fist remained clenched around whatever it held. "Probably because very few of us trust you," I pointed out. "You come up to my house uninvited, insult me and my..." My what? What the hell was Leo Carson to me, when all was said and done? "My acquaintances of whom you know nothing, and expect me to accept a...what? Gift? Offering?" "Okay then. I’ll leave it here. You can look at it later." He reached past me, dropped something on the coffee table and automatically my head turned to see what it was. A thumb drive. Something to do with computers? When I looked again at Andrew that smile was back. Triumphant in his ability to command my attention for even a second as he tossed a simple thumb drive onto my coffee table. And I’d felt vulnerable, with my body twisted away from him, exposing my neck as I’d looked down. I shivered, as I contemplated what he might do next, dismissing the thought he’d grab my neck or... But then when we’d split, I hadn’t thought he’d ball a fist until he’d done it, had I? Hadn’t believed he could be so 178

impulsive, harbor such contempt. "I’ll see myself out." And that was all he said before heading for the doorway, walking down the hall, opening the front door and...leaving. My gaze followed him as he went through the motions, wondering what the joke was, when he would turn around and let rip, but no. The door slammed shut behind him and the noise shook me out of my dazed mood. As if I’d just woken up, I rubbed my eyes and looked around. Still the same old living room, the same old familiar surroundings. "What the hell was that all about?" And then it caught my eye. The thumb drive. I grabbed my laptop bag from where I stored it by the side of the settee, practically ripped it out of its casing, plugged it in to save battery power and switched it on. Then stopped. Looked over my shoulder, down the hallway at the front door, half expecting Andrew to be standing there, laughing, having seen me jump to it, still under his control, dancing to his tune. But of course he wasn’t there. The door hadn’t opened behind me; the floorboards hadn’t creaked under his footsteps. I had to make sure. I had to lock the door behind him, to keep him out. Turning the key in the lock, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, silently berating myself for even letting him across the threshold in the first place. It was only then I realized how truly relieved I was at having come to no harm. A cool wave washed over me and I started to shake. Just to set my mind at rest I peeped through the spy hole but there was no one there. No Andrew, no nothing. Both hands braced against the door, images of another time flashed through my mind. Leo. Again. Up against the door, pulling at his belt buckle"Jesus, Piper!" I shook my head before cocking it to one side, listening. No sound throughout my flat. Andrew hadn’t sneaked back in, planted himself somewhere... "You’re paranoid, bitch." Silence. Broken by a vague tinkling, like bells, but more electronic. 179

I nearly jumped out of my skin but again, that coolness of relief washed over me. Nothing more sinister than the laptop in the living room booting up, playing its few notes of announcement. Forcing out laughter to convince myself there was nothing wrong, I returned to the settee, waited for everything to boot up; MSN, Google chat, my email program...none of them moved fast enough for my liking. I had to know what was on this thumb drive Andrew had left me now it was safe to check. He’d left me to it, so I could afford to react in any way I saw fit. My email alert beeped but I ignored it, instead choosing to plug in the pen drive and see what Andrew was so keen to pass on. "Come on, come on..." With the laptop on the settee cushion at my side, I tapped my foot, impatient to get this over and done with. If it was anything to do with Andrew Kincaid it was likely to be something embarrassing or... "Oh God..." My hands flew to my face while my laptop whirred and beeped, reading the removable drive. "He’s going to blackmail me..." No, don’t be stupid, Piper Holt. Even Andrew wouldn’t stoop that low... would he? I searched my memory, ignoring the computer’s for a moment, for any times we had taken intimate photographs of each other, wondered what had been done with them. Would Andrew seriously threaten to show someone else photos of a woman he’d slept with? I lifted my hands away from my face. Slowly. Scared of what I might see. No, not photos of me. But Andrew featured heavily. Clothes didn’t. "Uh...nice," I muttered to the empty room, peering at the computer screen and the thumbnails of all the snapshots thereon. "Andrew Kincaid, classy as ever." Why on Earth he thought I’d want to see photos of him in a state of undress, I couldn’t fathom. But still I couldn’t stop myself scrolling down to see the other thumbnails, in case there was something of interest in the folder. Andrew, naked, certainly wasn’t. I’d seen all that before and if I never saw his useless cock again it’d be too— 180

"What the...?" A familiar face in amongst the rogue’s gallery leapt out at me. A face grinning in hilarity, desire, drunkenness, who knew? I tried to say her name out loud, but all I could utter was a helpless, questioning whisper. "Marie?" Saying the name nearly choked me. It was Marie in the photos with Andrew, holding a glass of wine up, saluting the camera, shoulders bare, probably naked from the waist up although I couldn’t see... naked from the waist down too, for all I knew... back turned, again, naked, hair cascading down her back... another shot from the back, looking over her shoulder at Andrew, I presumed, winking at the camera... winking, as if she had not a care in the world... and others of them together, grinning at the camera, Marie looking more than a little bleary eyed, Andrew, too, although I wondered if he’d planned this, gotten her drunk, suggested getting his mobile phone out... was this all about me? Or had they had a genuine fling? Were they having an affair? Had it started before I’d finished with Andrew? Was the reason he’d taken the split so badly not that he was in love with me still—if he ever had been—but that his pride was hurt; he’d missed the opportunity to get in there first? I’d expected Andrew to jump into bed with someone else pretty soon, or at least braced myself for a mountain of ‘don’t give a damn’ if word reached me that he had, but not this. Not this. With...with Marie? What the hell had she been thinking? And what had he, sending me photographs of their night together? I didn’t know what hurt most; Marie’s presence in these tawdry shots, or the fact Andrew had felt he’d achieve something by sending them. Remove the thumb drive. Bin it. No. Delete every shot first and then bend it all out of shape so you won’t be tempted to look again. Certain brands of thumb drives were practically indestructible so deleting the contents of this one would be wise. I could bend it, take a hammer to it, hell, even douse it with petrol and set it on fire and if the remains were sat at the bottom of my bin, I’d still be tempted to fish it out and 181

have another look if the files were still on it when I removed it from my laptop’s USB port. My lack of panic, anger, incandescent rage frightened me. I was dismayed. Surprised. Queasy, even. But none of these were strong emotions. Where was the passion? The lack of control? Why wasn’t I crying? Didn’t I care? Before I could change my mind or make copies, I hit CTRL-A and DELETE, then the off button on the laptop without shutting down properly, ripped out the thumb drive and threw it in the bin. No need to hammer it or run it through a mangle if the data had been deleted. "Shit." I’d forgotten the email I’d received before plugging in the damn drive with all those photos on it. I hit the on button again. Waited. Nothing. Again. Eventually the whirring started and an error message flashed up on screen. I tried unplugging the laptop and running it off the battery, switching it off, removing and replacing the battery, but nothing worked. As the minutes passed, the cold shiver of concern in the pit of my stomach grew into panic. Somehow something had affected my computer and I hoped it wasn’t a virus, but it certainly looked that way. And the last thing I’d done was plug in the drive I’d just thrown in the bin. The drive Andrew had given me. "The evil, sneaky bastard!" Now I felt it. The anger, dismay, panic and burst of energy which made me want to hit someone. Now came the rage. The useless douchenozzle had given me a thumb drive, knowing I would look at it and release whatever hard-drive-raping virus he’d planted on it along with photos of him in bed with my best friend. "Oh God... oh God... This isn’t happening. It can’t be. It can’t be happening..." I needed to phone someone. But who? Leo? "Oh shut the fuck up, Piper!" Despite shaking my head I couldn’t rid it of thoughts of him. And I knew he wouldn’t do any good in a situation like this. Oh hi, remember me? Yeah. I’m calling because I want to cry on someone’s shoulder about my ex fucking one of my best friends, 182

sending me photos of the event and then fucking up my laptop with a virus of some sort. Glad I called now, aren’t you? "Christ, Holt, you’re a fucking loon." I picked up my mobile from the coffee table and scrolled through the phone book. Former lovers. Andrew, Gray, Leo. Seeing Gray’s name reminded me of my brother. Matthias would know what to do, surely? No, Matthias would berate me for getting involved with Andrew in the first place and his connection to Gray would make things uber-awkward for a discussion about another ex of mine. He loved me, my brother, but he didn’t hold back when he felt I’d screwed up. Whatever he thought about the way things had gone between me and Gray, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his overwhelming urge as regards Andrew would be to say "I told you so. The guy’s a cock." Well yes he was, but that didn’t help any. Marie, then, after all. I hit the call button, my heart thudding louder and louder, pulse ringing in my ears along with the phone at her end. "Hello?" Too late to hang up, then. Besides, caller display would make it plain who I was. "Piper, is that you?" Deep breath. "I’ve seen the photos." "I’m sorry, what? Piper, is something wrong?" Without missing a beat. Boy, you’re good. I mean, really good. Did you know about this all along? Did Andrew tell you tonight was the night he’d be coming round and handing me that damn device? Did you cook this up between you? "Piper? Are you still there?" "I’ve seen the photos. Of you and—" Gathering my thoughts and my breath, I ploughed on. "The photos of you with Andrew." Beat. "Oh." Another pause. "Oh." "Yeah. Oh. He very kindly brought round a thumb drive this evening, with photos on it. A drive which, 183

incidentally, has also fucked up my computer. It won’t switch on or reboot, so I’m assuming he planted a virus on the damn thing as well, because if he didn’t it’s a remarkable coincidence isn’t it, that my laptop should die on the very evening I’m gifted with several photos of him feeling your tits and you wrapping your gums around his—" "I can explain!" "Oh. Can you?" Don’t sound bitchy, Piper. Don’t sound bitchy. Don’t. Lose. Control. "It was... I mean... I thought..." "I’m waiting." "You’d already split up with him!" Despite myself, I breathed a sigh of relief. "When did it happen?" "Piper, listen to me. I can—" "When, Marie?" "Sunday night." "Last Sunday night?" "Yes." When I was with Leo, then. After the phone call in my kitchen. "God damn it." Had Andrew been so incensed by Leo’s call that he’d marched round to my place, found me out, then...then what? Continued to Marie’s and fucked her out of revenge? "He was upset, and..." "Upset and carrying a bottle of wine?" I snapped, recalling the photo of her raising her glass. "No, I already had... look, I know how this looks—" "Yes, and thanks to David Bailey here, I know how it looks in glorious fucking Technicolor. Because that’s the kind of guy he is. He pretended to be upset, then got you drunk and took photos of you both. That’s Andrew Kincaid all over, and you fell for it." "Now listen, it wasn’t like that. I mean, he... I..." "Yes, Marie? How exactly would you explain the fact you have had sex with my ex?" "Piper, come on, be reasonable. It’s not as if you were still together and let’s face it, you’d been to bed with another—" "Who I have been to bed with or not is irrelevant here. We’re talking about you. You, creeping with Andrew." 184

Something inside me shuddered. I wasn’t getting it. Yet. "It’s not even that classy. Alcohol? You let him take photographs? Him? I always knew he was a... a... Christ. I expected better of you." "I’m sorry. What do you want me to say?" "I want this never to have happened. I want you never to have had sex with my ex-boyfriend. Because it doesn’t matter that we’d split up. Or how long it’d been, or how short a time. It doesn’t matter. You just don’t do that. I mean, it’s been, what, weeks? And you..." Yes, it’s only been weeks, and she jumped in pretty fast. "You fell for it? You fell for his act? That’s what he does, Marie. He acts in a certain way to get what he wants and he... he..." "Piper, can’t we talk about this?" "No, Marie. We can’t. Because it boils down to you let Andrew put his penis inside you. The fact you didn’t tell me about it right away—" I choked on my own suspicion. The penny hadn’t quite dropped, but it was beginning to topple. "The fact I had to find out from him, shows you wanted to keep it secret." "I was embarrassed!" "Embarrassed, is it? Embarrassed? Interesting that you use that word rather than ‘ashamed’. Hell, I’m embarrassed that I ever went out with the guy. What’s your excuse for doing what you did? You were drunk? I hope your hangover wasn’t too bad; I know there’s not enough alcohol in the world for me to..." There it was again, that internal shudder. Like a penny falling over. "Marie." "What?" Her voice wasn’t as small as I thought it should have been, given who was in the wrong here. "That night we were supposed to meet up in Kelleher’s and you cancelled." She paused before answering. Only for a second, but that was long enough. "What about it?" "Did you really have a migraine, or... did you find something better to do? No, no, don’t answer that. Were you ever going to tell me? No, don’t answer that. Fuck. Fuck. I’m going to hang up now." "No, don’t! I—" "And if you ever, ever try to get in touch with me again..." I bit my bottom lip, eyed the bin on the other side 185

of the room. She didn’t know I’d deleted all photographs... "If you ever try to contact me again, I’ll plaster those photos all over the internet and everyone will know what a cheap little tart you are." I slid my phone shut and collapsed back into the settee cushions, waiting for the tears to come, but they didn’t. Maybe it had just happened. Maybe they had just fallen into it, or at least she had. Andrew? Devious bastard. But either way, it didn’t bleach out their duplicity. Apologizing now didn’t change the past. "I’m sorry; what do you want me to say?" Marie had asked. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I should have stopped while I —we—had the chance. Ah, but that would have meant acknowledging something way back then, recognizing their own culpability. Stopping, pulling back, saying "No," would have been the simplest, surest way to force them to look at what they were contemplating. And why would anyone choose to confront their own potential mistreatment of someone they supposedly cared for?

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Nineteen "And there’s your salad." I punctuated my words with an inane grin as our boss liked us to do. Normally I ignored her orders masquerading as advice and spoke to the customers as I pleased—that is, as if they were humans and not brain-dead spackers—but today I pretended. Today I plastered a Hollywood smile on my face so the misery wouldn’t trip me up. "Thanks love." The gentleman and his wife responded with smiles more genuine than my own and I felt guilty for fooling them as he spoke. "Always nice to be served by someone with such a pretty smile." "Steve, leave the poor girl alone; you’re embarrassing her." ‘Steve’ shrugged. "What? I was only—" "I’d better see to my other tables," I said, hoping my hasty exit would help Steve avoid further nagging. "People. People at the tables I mean. Enjoy your meal." It took too much effort to appear normal. I couldn’t hold a smile for that long. I’m a waitress, not an actress. For a few days I’d been susceptible to moments of melancholy which was only natural given everything that had happened, but it wasn’t me. Not me at all. Piper Holt was the woman who bounced back. But Andrew and Marie, those photos... and my computer fucking up. Whether it was directly connected to anything Andrew had done or not I couldn’t be certain but the timing was too damn convenient for it to be otherwise when I examined the matter closely. "Piper?" Karen asked as she passed, carrying a pile of 187

plates. Our eyes met, but we said nothing further. She frowned. I raised my eyebrows as if to say nothing’s wrong but we both knew it was a lie. I hadn’t told her about Andrew and Marie or the photographs, just wanted to forget about it. Didn’t stop me torturing myself. At least you haven’t given Andrew the satisfaction of a reaction. Too, Marie hadn’t been in touch so while saddening, it was also a relief. She likely believed I would plaster those photos all over the internet and shame kept her from me. Well fair enough. I shrugged, not caring what anyone around me thought. I don’t need people like her in my life anyway. What I do need is— Oh shut up, Piper. Shut the fuck up and get on with your job. The diner was busy that day, especially at lunchtime, for which I was grateful. Conversation buzzed, children yelled, women gossiped, cutlery clattered against crockery, people called out requests for another coffee or more tomato sauce. The one good thing about the job was there were days when I barely had a moment to myself. "Piper, Piper!" Another waitress, Lori, broke into my thoughts. Not very interesting ones. Having managed to avoid Andrew and Marie in my head for all of ten minutes, I’d been thinking about a pair of shoes I’d seen in a shop window the day before and wondering whether they’d be suitable for work. "Yeah?" One didn’t have to be as polite with coworkers as with customers. Of course, we were within hearing distance of said customers, but the closer the clock drew me to home-time the less I cared. My desire to fake happiness had all but melted. "There’s someone over there asking for you." She thumbed over her shoulder and my own slumped. "God, it’s not Andrew is it?" He’d occupied my mind for enough time; I didn’t want him parking his mangy ass in my workplace too, even if technically, as a member of the public, he had every right to do so. Lori shook her head. Most of my co-workers knew 188

Andrew as he’d been in here a number of times, or met me from work. "Much better looking than Andrew. Irish accent. Sat at one of my tables but insisted on being served by you." Her lips curved into a conspiratorial smile. "I don’t know where you find them, Piper," she added, her voice dropping as low as it could while still being heard above the lunchtime hubbub, "but you have a talent for finding handsome guys." I craned my neck. "Irish, you said?" "Yeah. Over by the window. Look." She pointed, and just at that moment, as if he’d heard us speaking from across the room, he looked up. Chin still lowered, but looking up through his lashes, the side of his mouth raised ever so slightly, as if something tickled him. "You know him?" Mute, I nodded. "Well of course. He wouldn’t have asked for you otherwise. Unless he’s some kind of stalker, although if you want my opinion, if I was being stalked by someone who looked like that, I wouldn’t be complaining," she said almost to herself as she headed in the other direction. Always more tables on which to wait, more people to serve. My feet, glued to the floor, refused to move. The only sound I heard clearly was my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Vaguely I was aware of the other sounds around me; chatter, chairs being moved, children yelping, but they were muffled now, as if I wore thick headphones, through which only the sound of my own heart filtered. Still staring, he lifted his clasped hands and forearms off the table, adjusted his jacket and sat up straight; the movement made me jump and judging by the increasing wideness of his smirk, he noticed. Go to him, the voice in my head whispered. He asked for you specifically. Go to him. But I couldn’t. Something stopped me. Why I should be nervous around him I didn’t know, but here he was in my place of work. In my world. He cocked his head, once, beckoning, and this simple gesture jolted me into action. I cleared my throat, approached, praying no one would interrupt, stop me and ask for a salt cellar, more coffee, a sugar bowl. For once, a miracle happened. On a day as hectic as this, I had free 189

passage across the floor with no interruptions. I arrived at his table with the urge to kick my heels, hands held behind my back, hanging my head. Get a fucking grip, Holt. Again I cleared my throat, and reached into both pockets, one for my notepad, the other for my pencil. "Yes sir, what can I get you?" He burst out laughing, showing pearly white teeth, and that dimple I had often"Piper. Now there’s a loaded question." Drinking him in. Trying not to smile. God, you’re a sight for sore eyes. With one arm resting on the table he laid the other hand on his thigh, halfway between his knee and his— Don’t look at his crotch, Piper. You’re at work. Don’t look at his— oh fuck it, go on, look. And he caught me. There it was, the smile in his eyes, the dimple on his cheek, that knowing look. He knew exactly what he was doing. He’d wanted me to look. "What’s on the menu?" he asked. "What would you like?" That smile. Again. He clasped both hands on the table and lowered his voice so I was forced —not reluctantly at all—to draw closer. "You really should stop asking me questions like that, you know. I could take them the wrong way." "I’m at work. In a diner. These are questions I ask everyone." "Tart." "Yes, that’s on the menu today. I can recommend the cherry." "Does it come with cream?" He laughed when surprise made me cough. "Piper, sit down." Why do you have to say my name like that? Why do you have to keep looking at me...? "I can’t. I’m at work." "Aren’t you due a break?" "Soon. But fraternizing with the customers?" I shook my head and tutted. "Just wouldn’t do. I’d have other people asking why a waitress was sitting down drinking a cup of coffee instead of serving. Which is why I usually leave the premises or sit 'round back. People don’t seem to understand we deserve a break as much as the next person. More so, in 190

fact, what with being on our feet all day, but hey, as long as we’re around to bow and scrape, why should anyone bother thinking about our feelings? And... relax... sorry. Right. What do you want?" Eyebrows raised, he stared out from beneath a furrowed brow. "Piper, are you...?" He gestured to the seat opposite him in the window booth. They were usually the first tables to go; Lord knew how he’d managed to find one and keep it all to himself. "Go on, take a seat." "I’ll get in trouble." "Don’t you want to sit with me?" "Do you want me to get into trouble with my boss?" "I really don’t give a shit what your boss thinks, and neither should you—" "She pays my—" But the look on his face—Leo’s beautiful face—stopped me. At that moment I cared more about his opinion than my manager’s. She would nag; Leo would frown in disapproval. I knew which I thought worse. I sank onto the bench opposite him with a groan of relief. "That sound like the sigh of a woman who’s thoroughly pissed off." After shoving my notepad and pencil back in my pockets I continued staring down at my lap. "So why..." Forcing myself to look up, I continued. "What are you doing here?" "I’m hungry." He rested his chin on his fist and shrugged. "There were no other diners you could go to?" "None that have what I want." Wink. "This doesn’t strike me as your sort of eatery." "Really, Miss Holt—are you putting down your place of work?" "It’s hardly the Four Seasons, is it?" "You think I’m a Four Seasons kinda guy? Fuck off!" His laughter drew the attention of surrounding diners. Some frowned, some smirked. "Put it this way. It’s a diner. You’re... well, you don’t strike me as the kind of man who’d go to a poxy cafe for his meals when you could probably afford to go somewhere a bit more upmarket. Or cook for yourself. You’re good at that." 191

Amongst other things. "I really wish you’d stop putting your job down. In fact, I’ve gotta admit, I wanted to see what you looked like in that uniform." He stared as if he had X-ray vision, saw through the top half of my black dress and through the table, into my lap, past the lower half of my outfit too. "So you’re not hungry?" "Oh, of course I am." He chewed his thumbnail, fidgeted for a second, steepled his fingers in front of his face and murmured, "just not for anything you could legally sell." God, he still wants me. Thank the gods, he still wants me. "How have you been?" "Fine." "Really?" "Really." "Liar. You look stressed." "I’m at work. People have me running here there and everywhere. At home, not so much. But when you come into my workplace, see me in this sort of environment, of course I’ll be jittery." "So... you’re not jittery because I’m here?" he teased. "No. Sorry. I..." Need to get back to work? I had no clue how I was supposed to pull away from him without it sounding like an excuse, some meaningless line I recited with the purpose of getting him out of my sight. I wanted him to leave me alone so I didn’t get used to him. He’d spoiled it by coming in here today, ruined the fantasy. Now whenever I had a bad day I’d keep an eye out for him, hoping he’d show up to raise my spirits. Knew I would in turn be disappointed when he didn’t materialize. And I would hate him for causing such inevitable, deep disappointment. Why he couldn’t have stayed away I didn’t know. I entwined my fingers and rested my hands on the table but my thumbs worked around each other. His hand shot across the table to still both of my own, coming to rest on top of them and his touch after so long— only a brief period, but to me it felt like an age—was like a glass of cool water on a hot day. "Let’s go outside. Don’t tell me your boss would object." 192

"She might." "Do you care?" His eyes dared me to say yes. "Actually..." I slid one of my hands out from under his, slowly, so he wouldn’t be startled into breaking contact. I massaged my temple. "After the few days I’ve had, no, I don’t think I do." "Good girl." He pulled back, adjusted his jacket yet again, and stood. I rose with him, looked around for one of my colleagues. "Lori! Lori." I caught her as she passed. "I’m going to take my break now. If anyone asks, I’m just going outside for a couple of minutes." "Boss lady won’t be pleased." She looked at me over an invisible pair of half moon spectacles, glaring like a school ma’am. Then grinned. "Ah, go on. Enjoy yourself." She glanced at Leo, back at me, and winked. "I’m entitled to a break anyway. If she objects, tell her I’ll be just out front. She can bite me if she likes." As I led the way out, Leo laughed just over my shoulder. "Atta girl." He stepped ahead, held open the customer door and followed me outside. The wind whipped at my ponytail as I stood off to one side, hugging myself against the sudden cold which wasn’t uncomfortable; in fact it was refreshing and surprisingly the outdoors was quieter than the inside of the diner, or at least less manic. People still rushed past, but they weren’t shouting. There was a gentle hum of traffic somewhere in the background but most of the streets in the city centre itself were either one way or pedestrianised. And of course I didn’t have to keep an eye out for people beckoning me over so they could make a request of me. "Hey." A gentle hand on the small of my back. "Let’s go somewhere." I looked up at him, the height difference emphasized by the fact today I wore flat, functional shoes. "Namely?" "God, you’re even tinier than I remembered." He made a show of looking down at my feet and tutting. "Damn those shoes. Still..." A shrug. "Round the corner. Somewhere out of the way. Less... less..." Leo’s hand didn’t move from my back as we strolled, heading for the nearest corner, away 193

from the main streets and shopping centres. There was noise out here, sure, but it was impersonal and we could afford to ignore it. "You’ve had a rotten few days, then?" he prompted, stopping near an alleyway which led to the inner courtyard used as a dropping off point for delivery vans, surrounded by shop backs, storage units and staff entrances. "Yeah." My lips thinned out as I pressed them together painfully hard in an attempt to stop myself saying too much. "Well?" Hands in his trouser pockets, he hunched his shoulders against the light wind, facing me as I backed up against the brick wall and I didn’t feel enclosed. No, I felt protected from the elements. Protected from the elements and vulnerable to him. When he looked at me like that I wanted to spill my heart. "Oh, just... shit happens." I waved dismissively, looked away from him, focused on the middle distance to one side, people walking by, crossing the road, shop doors opening and closing. "Such as?" "Look." My spine stiffened as I turned back to him. "What is this about? Why do you care?" Immediately fought back the desire to kick myself. Leo’s eyes widened briefly, returning to normal once he’d gathered his thoughts. "Just asking." Don’t pretend you care. Don’t make me think you give a damn. Don’t make me get used to you being around to look after me. "Look, I just don’t want to bother you with my problems, that’s all. They’re not your concern, you can’t do anything about them, so... what’s the point?" "You never know." I huffed in amusement. "Try me." "Leo." "Come on." He gave my shoulder a squeeze, slid his hand down my arm, ran his thumb across the inside of my elbow. When I shivered it wasn’t from the cold. "Tell me." "Well." I plastered one of my special Hollywood smiles on and dived in. "My ex-boyfriend... the one you spoke to on the phone?" 194

"Oh yes. Him." His hand didn’t move from my arm. "He decided to have sex with one of my best friends." "Ouch." "And yep, we’d split up, but even so..." I shrugged. Still, Leo’s hand maintained contact. Don’t make me get used to this, Leo. Take your hand away. Don’t let me crave your touch. "And you found out... how?" Concern furrowed Leo’s brow and the tip of his tongue wetting his upper lip distracted me. "He decided to tell me." "Oh. That was kind of him." "I say tell... more like show." Leo’s thick eyebrows shot up so fast I nearly laughed. "You caught them at it?" "No, no." I crossed my arms as a way of getting Leo to lift his hand away even though I didn’t want him to. It was for the best. "He showed up at my flat the other night with some excuse about picking up his CDs or some other nonsense. He had something for me. A thumb drive, to be exact. Anyway, he left it on the coffee table and once he left, I had a look, and..." Leo shook his head slowly. "I know where this is going..." "Uh-huh. Photos. He’d taken photos of him in bed with my former friend and taken the time to copy them onto a thumb drive and leave it at my house so I’d be sure to see them." "Jesus Christ, Piper. Has the guy got no class at all?" "Evidently not." I wiped my eyes with my fingertips, instantly regretting the action just as I’d earlier regretted snapping at Leo. "Are you..." He brushed a rogue strand of hair away from my face, leaving a trail of sparks under my skin where he’d touched me. "Are you crying?" "Absolutely not." "Liar." "Stop it, Leo. Or I really will get upset." "Well we can’t have that, can we?" His hand cupped the side of my neck, thumb grazing my earlobe. "Piper. I need... I want to ask you something." The hand fell away 195

from my neck, came to rest on my shoulder and in that one movement went from flirtatious and borderline territorial to matter-of-fact and fraternal at best. "Are you still in love with this guy?" "Ha!" I couldn’t help but smile. "Good Christ, no." I could have sworn he exhaled at that. "Whatever gave you that... oh, because I’m upset? Leo. Let me tell you something about women." "I know it all, babe." "Not this, you don’t. There’s an unwritten code. You don’t go near your friend’s exes. You just don’t. Maybe after time. If everyone stays friends, fair enough. But this soon? No. And...fuck, she’d been drinking, so what sort of man takes advantage of a pissed woman?" "A sex pest?" "Basically, yeah. I could understand if he was anything special, but then she wouldn’t know what he was like in bed if it was the first time she...I just hope she didn’t go back for seconds or that’d make her as much of an idiot as I was. I feel so stupid that I ever went near the guy, but her too? And for him to go to all that trouble for me to actually see the evidence? He must really hate me." "Or... or he must really love you." "Please, Leo. Really. This is not what you do to a woman you love. You don’t fuck her friend and then show her the bloody evidence!" "Okay, not love. Jealousy. Longing. Lust." Concern flashed in his eyes. "Did he try it on with you?" "No..." I shifted from one foot to the other, wondering why I felt uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Do you think he...? No, he couldn’t possibly think of..." "Piper. Let me tell you something about men. We do. We always do. Whatever he’s thinking, he’s also thinking about his hurt pride and how he wants to get back at you and how he wants to get back into you." "Leo!" "Sorry, love, but it’s true," he said with a laugh. "Or maybe that’s just me." He crooked a finger under my chin. "Promise me one thing." "What?" "That you have no feelings for him. No romantic ones 196

anyway." His request startled me, made me wonder why he cared what I felt for an ex, despite my previous assurances. "I don’t," I said truthfully. "I honestly don’t even feel hate for him. I just can’t be bothered." "Good." Leo nodded. "Well that’s good, then." "Why?" "Because love and hate are both passionate emotions and I don’t want to be..." He took his hand away from my face. "Whatever I am, I don’t want to be doing it with a woman whose thoughts are elsewhere." "Are we doing something?" Please don’t tell me you hear my heart pounding. Allow me the dignity of that, at least. Give my heart some privacy. "We were." Fuck you and your past tense. "And you never know, we might be again," he continued. Ah, well that’s okay. Desperate not to make my relief too obvious, I exhaled slowly. "You know what pisses me off the most? The damn drive fucked my laptop." Leo gave a sharp bark of laughter. "I’m not kidding! A virus or...or something. I don’t know, but—" "Piper, Piper, I’m not laughing at you, I’m just...I’m just glad you’re not... Anyway." He shrugged. "I’m glad you’re not upset over him. The computer. Is it really gone?" "Think so. Tried a few times to switch it back on, but nada. Completely fucked. I’ll just have to take it into a shop somewhere on my next day off and that’s all I need. Giving up a free day so some computer geek can poke around in my hard drive and—" "Piper, Piper, Piper, listen to me. That’s something I might be able to help you with." "How? Unless you’re some sort of tech genius as well as—" "I know a guy who runs a computer shop. He builds PCs, sells all the peripherals, does repairs. Anyway, it’s not much, it’s not like I’m fixing the thing myself, but I’m a regular, we’re business associates, so if I give him a call he might be able to knock a few quid off, friend of a friend kinda 197

thing... Friend of a customer at least..." "Really?" "Yeah, honestly, Piper, don’t worry. It’s not that hard to get computers fixed these days. If it’s a virus your oxygen-thief ex cooked up, it shouldn’t be too hard to reverse it. Did you have everything backed up?" "Yes. There wasn’t that much on the computer. Games, music. Some photos..." I swallowed back my concern over the nature of some of those photos. I had them backed up; so it wasn’t me losing them which caused concern. It was anyone else finding them. Still, if my computer truly was ‘fucked’, to use a technical term, all that could be done was completely reformatting the hard drive surely? I wasn’t quite sure what that meant or involved, but I’d heard the term used before. "I don’t know how long it’ll take or how much it’ll cost for sure, but I’ve taken a few things in to be cleaned up and it’s usually about forty notes for a complete overhaul. You’ll get it back in a factory state, so thank God you have back ups." "Yeah... I guess it could be worse." Though how, I don’t know. I put my hand to my forehead and Leo lifted it away, holding on to it even when my face was exposed again. "Listen. I’ll call that guy; his name’s Richard. See what he says, and I’ll get back to you. Later on, text me the make and model of your laptop, that sort of thing. Then I’ll call him tomorrow. Right? Will that do you?" "I guess," I said with a sigh, realized I sounded ungrateful and plastered another smile on my face. "Yes. Thank you." "Hey, come on now." He was still holding my hand. I did and I didn’t want him to let it go. "Gimme a real smile." "Are you accusing me of faking it, Carson?" "Well if you are..." He took a step closer, inclined his head so his next words were but a whisper against my ear. "You’re the best actress I’ve ever come inside. Across. Across. The best actress I’ve ever come across." Electricity jolted through me and he turned his head ever so slightly, so his breath warmed the skin of my cheek. Nearly every damn word he said was flirtatious, every move 198

he made was intimate, so wherever we were it was like he was speaking to me and only to me; there were people milling round us but none of them mattered. His attention and focus centred on me as if I was the one round whom the universe revolved and his ability to make me feel important was the sexiest thing about him. "I..." Pause. "I better get back to work." He inhaled. Held it. Slowly exhaled. As if breathing me in, holding me in his lungs before a need for oxygen forced him to let me go. "Yeah. Perhaps you had. Before... Well, there’s no telling what Leo Carson could do." I gulped. "I’ll get going then." "Yes." He didn’t move. "Back to the staff entrance." "Okay then." "It’s right behind me." "Is it?" "Right up this side street. I mean, I’ll be going up the back—no, I mean... behind... ah, fuck it." I took a deep breath. "Hell, Leo—you make everything I say sound dirty." "That’s me all over, darling. Leo Carson. One hundred per cent pure filth." "So dirty you affect what comes out of my mouth?" "So dirty I’m thinking about putting something in your mouth." "You..." But I gave up. Couldn’t think of anything to say to that but a rather limp, "I should go." "Where’s the staff entrance?" "Round back. Here." I thumbed over my shoulder and looked behind me. "You go up that narrow lane, there’s an inner courtyard where all the stock gets delivered. There’s a few shop backs there, staff doors, storage units and the like." "Can I see?" "There’s nothing interesting there," I said, still strangely excited at the thought of spending even another minute in his company. The thought of my boss wondering where I was flitted through my mind, how dare I take such a long break, and without checking with her, too... but I pushed that thought away. An ephemeral image of a diner manager against the reality of Leo? No contest. 199

"It’s something I’ve always wanted to do." He looked past my shoulder to the alleyway he faced. "What, see the back of a shop?" "No, take you up the back alley." He ran his tongue along his top lip. "Piper, the look on your face. The way your eyes widened momentarily, like I had just—" "Stop it. Now, Leo." "Stop what?" "You know what. Stop being filthy." "I can’t, babe." He held his arms out to the side, palms facing me. "It’s in my DNA. I’m genetically programmed to be rampant." He laughed. "Leo the lion. Rampant." Shaking my head, I tried not to laugh. Sure, he was an incorrigible flirt, but endearing with it. I couldn’t be annoyed at him for keeping me out of the workplace when he spoke so freely of his own sex appeal. "Are you ever going to let me get back to work?" "I’m not stopping you." I turned on my heels, wondering from where I got the strength to show my back to him and hadn’t taken two steps before I felt his hand on my backside. My steps faltered and his laughter reached my ears as I skipped ahead a few steps. "Leo." "What?" Suddenly his voice was at my shoulder, him keeping pace with me as I walked up the cobbled alley, past weather-worn brickwork. "If people see you slap my arse then follow me up a side street, you know what they’re going to think?" "No, what?" Glancing over my shoulder, I told him, "You do." "No, really, I—" "They’ll think we’re off for a bit of—" "Slap and tickle? How’s your father? A knee trembler up against the back door?" "All of the above." "As if I’d do that." He grabbed my elbow, pulled me back to him and dropped his voice to a throaty whisper. "I’m not perverted enough to make love to a damsel in distress up against a wall outside her place of work am I?" My heart pounded as I tried not to think about his use 200

of the words ‘make love’. Not fuck or rail or pound. It probably meant nothing. It was just a phrase to describe the sex act, that was all. It didn’t make what we’d done any more romantic to describe the activity in such rose-tinted terms. "Keep walking," he said and I... obeyed. Like I had any other choice. "Why, Mister Carson! Is that a gun in your pocket-" "No, I am just pleased to see you." His footsteps slowed as we turned the corner into the inner courtyard. "So... this is it, huh? This is where you come every day... so to speak..." "Yes. It is. Now, if you’ll...I mean, I should..." "Get back to work?" "Exactly what I was about to say." I nodded, more to convince myself I was being decisive, than to persuade him of my determination. "Hmm..." He stroked his chin, looked around us, not just at the doors, but up, as if studying the higher floors of the buildings. I waited for him to tell me what he was thinking. He turned back to me, took one step closer then another, still with his hand to his jaw. "I wonder..." "Leo." I backed away. Not scared. Merely curious. "You’ve got that look on your face again." "What look?" "You know what look." "I don’t see any CCTV cameras around here." "Oh Christ." He grinned, ran his forefinger along his lips as he did so, as if trying to stop the grin evolving into a laugh. "I’m really tempted to just..." "Just what?" I blurted out, instantly realising my mistake. Leo Carson wasn’t the type to tell me what he intended to do. Any question would be answered with action, not words. The brickwork, rough against my palms as I backed against the nearest wall, hands behind my back, scratched my skin but I didn’t mind. I used the minor irritation as a way of keeping myself grounded. Self-aware. "I’d have to..." His hand came to rest on my waist, lifted away, then touched me again, as if uncertain of whether to travel up or down. "I’d have to be really quick." 201

"Not like you at all." I smirked. Paused, before saying more seriously, "You can’t seriously be thinking of..." "Piper. I’m always thinking of that. Especially with you." I wished I’d kept my hands in front of me. When he stood so close I had no room to maneuver. Pinned against the wall by his presence as I was, it would be a struggle to stop him doing whatever it was he was about to do. His hand bunched up the fabric of my dress in the breath of space between us, then went for the slip of cotton separating his hand from my clit. "Leo." "What?" His breath on my forehead ruffled that strand of hair come loose from my ponytail and his lips, though not touching my skin, made me shiver. "You can’t..." Gulp. "Not here." "Can’t what?" His lips moved against my skin, not pursing to kiss me, just forming the words he spoke and happening to make contact now and again. This acceptance of my skin against his mouth as if I had a right to be there sent a shiver up my spine. I fell into him so easily, he couldn’t possibly feel the same. What were the chances of two people timing their union so well that they both— "You don’t know what I’m going to do yet." He worked one finger behind the sliver of cotton. "I’ve got a fair id— oh." His laughter as I reacted to his finger stroking my clit warmed my face. "That’s what I was going to do." "Leo. You can’t." "I just did." "Not here." "I just did." "Leo. No, you—" He jerked his hand further underneath me, slid one finger inside sharply, making me gasp, half in surprise, half in a mild sort of pain. And out. But slowly. Increasing my fear of discovery. Taking his time and knowing exactly how he was making me feel. "Are you worried?" he murmured, his voice almost a 202

groan. As if he got more pleasure from this than I did. "Yes I’m worried. Someone could come—" "That’s kinda what I’m aiming for." He kissed the side of my mouth, his ragged breath distorting his words. "You don’t know how many times I’ve made myself come thinking about making you come this way." "Leo. Stop it." "Make me." I tried to wriggle away. Couldn’t. "I like to do things I shouldn’t, in places I shouldn’t be doing them." He circled the tip of his finger and despite my fear of someone walking in–-or rather out—on us, my body betrayed me by pushing back. My breathing grew shallower as I swallowed back my concern, arousal, fear. It took all my strength to maintain the self-control needed to utter two simple words. "Leo. Don’t." His fingertip stopped circling and when he slid it out of me I gasped louder than I had when he had first touched me. "If you insist," he murmured, his voice husky. But instead of moving away or helping me straighten my clothing, he lifted his finger to his mouth, ran the tip along his bottom lip and finally sucked it between his teeth and watched as I watched him. "God, I wish we had more time." "I...yes." It hurt to breathe. It hurt to speak. It hurt to have him standing so close to me and yet somehow, so far away. If I push him, I can’t accuse him of leaving. "Leo, I need to get back to work." "Yes." He took one step back and I had breathing space. Breathing space I didn’t want. But I took the opportunity to pull the skirt of my dress down, smooth the hem, attempt to make myself look respectable. As if I hadn’t just had his finger inside me. Outside my place of work. Mere steps away from a main road. "Shit." The enormity of what he’d done—what he’d almost done—hit me. "You’d better go." "I will." He frowned for a moment, then his features cleared into a mask of respectability. "I have work to do." "So do I." 203

"Fine." "Fine." "Send me that text, then. About the computer." "Right. I will." "Tonight." "Yeah." I gulped back the lump in my throat, blinked back tears. Didn’t look at him. Piper, you fool. You don’t want him to go but you’re telling him to leave? Where is the logic in this behavior? "Bye then." I expected him to reply in kind, be terribly, terribly polite about this state of affairs, but no. He jerked forward, grabbed my elbow and planted a kiss on my lips, crushing them like a branding iron. Said nothing. And turned to leave. Habit reminded me to key the security code into the number panel by the diner’s back door but my fingers shook so much I needed a few seconds to steel myself. No doubt I’d receive a hearty rollicking for taking so long on my break and disappearing off the premises but that wasn’t my primary concern. My primary concern was the realization that, despite all the words exchanged, Leo hadn’t gotten around to telling me why he’d called in to the diner in the first place.

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Twenty The bell above the door jangled when I stepped into the shop, unnerved. The place was quiet; no background music greeted me, no movie played on the huge wallmounted screen which Leo had informed me was sometimes used as a computer monitor and there were no other customers present. Straight ahead sat a glass fronted counter below which were shelved external hard drives and other peripherals. Behind that were hundreds of ink cartridges hanging on the wall on hooks, along with wires, cables, USB hubs, extension wires, phone jacks, all manner of computer gadgets. To my right was a computer desk, littered with pens, pencils, mouses (mice?), thumb drives, sweet papers and scrap bits of paper. To my left was the ‘workshop’—a bench ran around two walls, one of which supported the at least fifty inch LCD monitor/television. At the back of the room were shelves on which sat monitors, processing units, keyboards, printers and scanners. There was an overwhelming air of masculinity in the shop, akin to garages and certain pubs. As if women had no right to be there. And me? I knew little of computers so wouldn’t be able to tell if I was being ripped off or not. I just wanted my laptop back and I’d been promised it would be ready by now. The sound of footsteps reached me from the corridor at the back of the shop and I wondered if it was Darren, one of the two men I’d met when I’d dropped my laptop off. "Ah." He—not Darren—smiled when he saw me, in a way that only showed his front teeth, as if the smile was 205

either forced and he couldn’t bring himself to reveal his full set or he longed to grin widely and this was his way of restraining himself. It didn’t make him look restrained. It made him look secretive. "Piper, isn’t it?" His gaze flickered down over my dress and I fought the urge to pull my coat tighter, mentally kicked myself for not buttoning the three-quarter-length trench-coat and tying the belt. I said nothing out of confusion over what to say and hoped he’d take this as a ‘don’t mess with me’ silence. It seemed Richard’s brain had gone A.W.O.L. and he continued to stare, occasionally wringing his hands. When I’d brought my computer in a few days before, his workmate had been present so I’d thought I’d been imagining the purpose behind the looks he’d shot my way and we hadn’t been alone together, so it was fine. Maybe, I’d reasoned, he’s just curious about this woman his business associate, Leo, has mentioned. Maybe that explains the searching looks and lingering glances. "What can I do for you?" He swaggered over and I nearly laughed. I hadn’t thought people really did swagger in real life, but he walked like he owned the place, which, sadly, he did, according to my informant Mister Carson. Resisting the urge to back off, I said, "My computer?" "Yes?" Groan. "Have you fixed it?" "Um..." Inwardly I groaned again. "You said it would be ready this morning." "Yours is the...Koehler-Knight laptop? The one-sixty gig?" "Yes..." I drew the word out to as many syllables as possible. "Um, let me go check." Oh for goodness’ sake. I rolled my eyes, swallowed back any complaints and waited as he turned, scanned the benches for my computer. When I’d brought the damn thing in and spoken to Darren, Richard had stepped in and volunteered to ‘see to me’, sniggering quietly. "Leo called, he told me you’d be coming in," he’d said. I’d wondered then, as now, exactly what Leo had told him about me to make 206

him look at me like that. "So...you’re a Koehler-Knight fan?" He opened it up, lifting the screen with both hands reverently. "Most women are a fan of the Taylor nights." A random synapse of confusion fired in my brain and all I could think at first was "Huh?" before remembering Richard’s surname was Taylor. Another connection fired and I told myself, No, he didn’t really say that. Or if he did, he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. He glanced over his shoulder and winked, reading the confusion which must have shown on my face as encouragement. "Come on." He beckoned with a tilt of his head, not a strand of his close cropped dark hair moving. His face, though far from unattractive, was somehow bland, and this nothingness made him all the more unsettling. I couldn’t read anything in his eyes. He studied me too hard to let me in, to reveal anything of himself. "I’ll just boot it up and check it for you, then we’re all set." We, nothing. Automatically I took a step forward, caught the glance he shot at my foot and froze. Wanted to take a step back again, but knew that would look as if I was scared of him. "I don’t have much time. I’m on my lunch break." "Yeah, Leo said you worked in a diner somewhere. That dress doesn’t look like the sort of thing most women would get away with wearing during the day unless..." "It’s a uniform." Don’t engage him in conversation, Piper. Don’t. Engage. "Hot one, if you ask me." "I didn’t." Another glance over his shoulder and his eyes widened. "What?" Feigning innocence, no doubt. "Is this really necessary? You must know if you’ve fixed the laptop or not." "Last minute check," he shot back. "We don’t want you paying for it and then coming back saying it’s not working properly. The customer has to be one hundred per cent satisfied." My stomach roiled every time he looked at me, with that secretive smile on his lips, the lips he licked as he looked at my chest, and there was something avaricious in 207

this gesture. Leo could do it and it’d look teasing, flirtatious and not at all threatening. Richard did it and I felt like a fly caught in a spider’s web. All my senses leapt to high alert, hyperaware of the quiet; the only thing I heard was the tinkle of my own computer booting up and a clock ticking somewhere. What’s wrong with this picture? I shot looks at the clock, Richard’s shoulders as he tapped at my computer, even the immaculate short pile carpet beneath my feet. The sheen of the glass counter top on which sat the till and a credit card machine. "I’m just gonna use the WiFi to hook you up to the internet, make sure everything’s working properly," Richard said, and his voice made me jump. "Fine, fine, just don’t take long. I don’t have all day," I muttered, only half-listening. A quiet laugh and he turned back to the computer. "I managed to save all your documents and photos." Something didn’t fit. My brain contained all sorts of information but didn’t make the connection. The fact we were alone, everything was quiet, he’d just said he’d— Oh God. Oh fuck no. My blood ran cold. I’d never thought it was possible for that to happen; I’d always believed it was a cliché, but if ever my spine turned to a two foot long icicle it did then. The inflection in the last word photos. Memories flooded back like my brain’s hard drive had been cleared of a virus and all information was now freely readable. "Yep. All your data is safe. Right down to the last snapshot." His voice, no longer playful, was a chilling monotone as I thought of the photos liable to arouse interest in someone who happened to see them. "So!" he said, raising his voice sharply, making me jump. "How long you been seeing Leo?" Confused at this sudden change of subject although reasoning this was part of his game to keep me on my toes, I took a few moments to compose myself. "Uh...we’re not. Well, I mean..." "Yeah, he said he hadn’t known you for long. But he 208

didn’t tell me much about you. Just said you were some chick he’d met in a bar one night, so I assumed..." "You assumed what?" My voice, much firmer than I’d expected, surprised even me. "Nothing, nothing..." Richard held up his palms in a gesture of passive-aggressive innocence, his voice edging up an octave. "I just wondered if you were seeing him or if it was just a fling. Mind you, you know what Leo’s like. Fuck anything that moves, that boy would. Although, having said that..." Richard continued to tap away at my keyboard, and I tapped my foot. "He must really like you. It’s not every one of his conquests who gets a request for a discount. He usually just mentions names, when he remembers them that is, in passing, and the next week he moves on to someone new..." My heart thudded against my ribcage. When in fear the human body goes into a state of heightened awareness. Blood pounded in my ears as a backbeat to the conversation. "There you go, love. All set." Richard pressed a few more keys and I assumed he was waiting for the computer to shut down. "Right. Well as you’re a friend of Leo’s I’ll knock a few quid off the cleanup for you." Richard thrust his hands into his jeans pockets as he sidled over to me and my gaze shot from the computer, to him, back to the computer. Still looking for something. He should have brought the laptop over with him, I decided. So is he expecting me to go over and pick it up? Still unsure of why I didn’t want to step over into the ‘workshop’, I eyed him as he neared me, hands still in pockets and this made me shudder. He lingered at my side, not making any move to step behind the counter and open up the till. "So, Leo’s not your proper boyfriend, then?" I had to crane my neck to look up at his face, he was so close. Invading my personal space. No doubt deliberately. His hands at last came out of his pockets where I could see them. "I fail to see why that’s any of your concern." "Just curious, just curious, that’s all. Like I said, Leo 209

didn’t tell me much about you, just—" "Then there must have been a reason for that, mustn’t there?" "Sheesh, he didn’t tell me you were so secretive." "There’s nothing secretive about wanting to keep your private life private." "Honey, after what I found on your hard drive there’s nothing about you that’s private." My entire being jolted into a state of disbelief. He didn’t just say that. He couldn’t have just said that. He certainly didn’t just pat me on the backside. I spun round on my heels to face him, not wanting him at my back or anywhere I couldn’t see him. The look on my face must have telegraphed my amazement because he faltered, his brow furrowing. "Um... I, uh... well..." He patted the air gently, in front of me, as if trying to calm me down. I sidestepped. Immediately felt more comfortable. Not relaxed but certainly less jittery than I had when he’d been but centimeters away, though still reeling from his unwarranted physical contact. "So you don’t have a regular boyfriend then?" he asked. "What the hell business is that of yours?" "Or a girlfriend?" "You just don’t know when to stop, do you?" I blurted out, wondering if I’d just made the most stupid move of my life. I had no idea how he’d respond to righteous indignation, if he’d back down or flare up. "Hey, I was only being friendly!" My spine prickled with that heightened awareness again. But I didn’t know what I was looking for, nor what I should do. Pay for my computer, take it and go, or make a run for my computer and... no, that’d never work. It was at the back of the shop, well out of reach and to step into that part of the building would cut me off from— The door. That was what I’d been searching for. Escape. Whenever he’d spoken to me, my spine had tingled because 210

it was towards the door. During those moments when he’d stood beside me, I’d panicked, because my escape route was blocked off. I didn’t want to go for my computer because I’d be walking further away from the exit. Just leave, Piper, the voice told me. It was another part of me speaking or a voice outside myself. This sensory sensitivity bordered on an out of body experience. I watched myself watching Richard, watched myself plan my exit. "After all, there’s no one else in the shop," he murmured, inclining his head in my direction. Get out. "I could take you 'round the back and sort—" Before I’d turned one-eighty, my hand reached for the door handle. Drunk on adrenaline, I threw the door open, breath coming in shallow gasps, praying I’d get across the threshold without him lunging for me and when the glorious fresh air hit me, I gulped it down, stumbling forward into the forecourt of the computer shop, past a parked car—no doubt his—and onto the pavement beyond. Shuddering, nauseated, I looked back, half expecting to see him right behind me, but nothing. And my computer was still in there. Worth hundreds of pounds, but... at least nothing serious had occurred... Again I shuddered, frozen all over as the adrenaline left my body. I suspected I’d be in for a migraine later or at the very least a stress headache. Not wanting to dwell on matters, I tripped forward, excusing myself as I bumped a passerby who glanced at me and carried on walking. A number of doors along the street, I leaned against a wall, suddenly dizzy, still paranoid that I’d look over my shoulder to find Richard there although logic told me he wouldn’t leave the shop unattended. Logic, however, did not explain his behavior. "Hey, you all right?" A middle-aged man laid his hand on my shoulder and I jumped. "Sorry, love... you just looked like you were about to faint. Are you... do you need help?" "No. No, thank you." I nodded at him, grateful for his concern, though I probably didn’t look it. Likely, I appeared a wide-eyed madwoman. "I’ve just... um... had some bad news." 211

"Is there anything... do you need a doctor or...?" "No. Honestly. I’ll be fine. I’m nearly at my workplace. Honestly. Thank you. I’ll be okay. Fresh air does me good. I’ll walk back." Rambling now, I knew, but it did the trick. The man took his leave, still frowning in concern, but I’d assured him there was no need to worry. I made it round the corner and leaned against a guard railing designed to stop people running—or rather staggering—out of the pub exit nearby and into the road. Fumbling in my bag, I pulled out my mobile, wanting to call someone, wondering who. My boss? To say what? "Hi, I nearly got sexually assaulted during my lunch break, mind if I take the afternoon off to feel sorry for myself?" Not that she wouldn’t be sympathetic for something so serious, but the bottom line was I didn’t want anyone to know. I felt... I felt... ashamed. As if I’d brought it on by going into the computer shop myself. Wearing such a short dress (even though it was my work uniform and no one else had ever taken it as a sexual come on). Not telling Richard to back off straight away. But I hadn’t wanted to be rude, had persuaded myself he hadn’t meant the things he’d said, hell, hadn’t even said them. My thumb pressed the ‘phone book’ button. The sight of ‘Leo’ on my list was enough for me to hit ‘call’. "Morning. Leo Carson speaking." Oh. I jerked bolt upright, no longer leaning on the railing, although my free hand continued to grasp it just in case. "Um...Leo?" "Yeah. Sorry, gents, I need to..." I realized he wasn’t talking to me. "Are you in a meeting? Shit. I didn’t think." "Is something wrong?" I don’t care if I’m disturbing you. I need you— "Yes." "What... exactly?" Still not sure if he was speaking for the benefit of the people in whose company he remained, I didn’t know whether to pour everything out or apologize and take my leave. His facade of politeness might have been exactly that—a facade. So he could maintain a businesslike 212

appearance. "Piper?" Okay, so he’d said my name. That was good. He wasn’t trying to hide who I was from anyone, although for all they knew I could be his secretary. Or a work colleague. ‘Piper’ could have been the surname of a man he worked with. "That guy at the computer shop." "What about him?" "He..." "Piper..." There was a warning undertone to his voice now, a definite, implicit don’t fuck with me. "What happened?" Whether it was my shallow breaths or the pounding in my ears or the passing traffic or the background noise of passersby I didn’t know, but I had trouble deciphering his words. I shivered, pulled my coat tighter, faltered, and had to grab a hold of the railing with my free hand again. "Listen, I really do apologize, gentlemen, I’ll have to leave. There’s a problem with another one of my... properties. I have to go see to it. Piper, I’ll call you back in five minutes. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll call you back." His last words were spoken through gritted teeth, that much I knew, and I wondered if he was angry, because if so, his anger must have been directed at me for disturbing him. I sniffed a couple of times, desperate to stop myself crying. Even thinking about the word threatened to make it happen so I blinked, watched people walk past, looked at the sky, the pavement, even over my shoulder a few times. After the fourth or fifth time it began to sink in that no one was coming after me. My phone sprang to life sooner than I expected. "Leo?" "Piper? What the fuck’s going on, love? Are you in trouble?" His first few words had made my head spin with fear and disappointment, but the ‘love’ turned it all around. The question. He spoke out of concern, not ire. "Kind of." "Well? What’s going on? I’m assuming you phoned me for a reason? Did something happen? What happened? Why aren’t you at work?" 213

"I’m on my lunch break. But..." I’m thinking of taking the rest of the day off. "I wasn’t expecting you to call, so I assumed something’s—" "Were you in a meeting?" "Yes, I—" "I interrupted, didn’t I?" "Oh, it doesn’t matter—" "Shit. Sorry. I didn’t think. I just came out and started scrolling through my phone and you were the first person I thought of, so... anyway, I don’t know why I—" "If you’ll forgive me for interrupting, Piper, will you stop interrupting me with fresh questions and answer mine? What happened?" I took a deep breath. Prepared to tell him. Then blurted out, "Where are you?" Reading my mind, he asked, "You want me to come get you?" A heavy sigh. "Yeah." And in that moment, I hated myself for showing such neediness. Already angry at what had happened, I didn’t want to show further weakness by asking for help from a man, as if I couldn’t cope on my own, but in that moment, I needed him. "Where are you? At work? No, you said you were on your lunch break, didn’t you? Are you taking the afternoon off?" Looks like it now. "Yeah, I guess I am. I don’t know whether to phone in or go and speak to my boss." "We’ll figure something out when I get there. Wherever ‘there’ is. But if you go into work, your boss is more likely to prevail upon you to work the rest of your shift. It’s a lot simpler all round if you make a phone call and that way, she’s less likely to get you to come in. Just don’t worry about that now. Don’t phone yet. Where are you?" "Outside a pub. I’m not staying here, I want to get away from... look, I’ll meet you somewhere... um, the city square? Shit, you won’t get parked." "Don’t worry about me, doll, Leo Carson parks where the fuck he likes. Grab yourself a coffee and get a seat at The Square," he said, naming the cafe in the city square which was a common stop for tourists. "There’s something 214

deliciously twisted about you bunking off work from a diner and grabbing a coffee in another cafe." To my amazement, I laughed. "You are twisted." "Yeah, and you love it. Now do as you’re told, there’s a good girl. Don’t do anything till I get there apart from order a coffee and grab a seat. I’ll be there as soon as I can." "Where are you? Look, I’m sorry about the meeting—" "Don’t sweat it, they were boring me anyway. I’m about ten minutes away by car; I’ll be as quick as I can. Gonna hang up now, be there A.S.A.P." Abruptly, the conversation ended and, holding an unconnected phone, I slung my bag over my shoulder and started walking. More steadily now. Because Leo was coming.

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Twenty One Hugging the coffee cup with both hands, I drained it then set it back down on the circular table and scanned the crowds for a familiar face. It had been more than ten minutes since we’d spoken, but he’d probably got caught up in traffic or finding a parking space. If Leo said he’d be here, he would be here. I trusted him. Sighing, I turned the coffee cup around and around in its saucer, glancing up from time to time to feel the sun on my face. It was a warm day, with a light breeze, otherwise perfect if I could forget why I was here. Ordinarily I’d have loved to have been waiting for Leo outside a city centre cafe, having pulled him out of a meeting because clearly, seeing me was more important than anything his business associates had to say. Silly cow, you probably cost him a deal, or at least some standing amongst his peers for what he’s doing for you. I rested my chin on interlocked fingers. Well, whatever I’d cost him, it was too late now. He’d agreed to come and hadn’t seemed too displeased about the excuse to leave. Yes and maybe that’s because he’s a good actor. The chair opposite scraped along the ground and I looked up. "Wotcha." My cheeks ached with the effort it took to stop my face breaking into a wide grin. "Hey." I allowed myself a smile at least. God, you’re beautiful. I gulped. "I feel kinda stupid now." 216

"And so you should," Leo retorted, and my heart leapt. He pointed at the cup. "You clearly didn’t order me anything." He leaned down to kiss the top of my head before taking a seat. "Oh." Relief flooded through me. Being with him was an emotional rollercoaster. Adrenaline when I contacted him, fear that he’d knock me back, relief when he offered to come get me, angst when he was just a minute or two late, panic when he’d told me I should feel stupid, relief again when it was clear he’d been joking... "So. Why do you feel stupid?" "It’s nothing. It’s probably..." "If you called me in the middle of the day, it’s obviously not nothing." "God, I’m sorry. I probably fucked up your schedule doing this. I could have called a friend, or just went back to work, but I didn’t know what else to do, and... and..." He reached across the table, grabbed my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Piper. Piper. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. Christ, I own my own business. If I can’t take off when I feel like it, I might as well be someone else’s bitch. That’s one of the pleasures of being my own boss." "But your partners... associates... whatever. You were in a meeting." "Ah, what of it? I have enough money." He shrugged. Shuffled his chair around the table so he was nearer to me. Rubbed the back of my neck as I let my head drop forward, resting my forehead in my hands, as if he was massaging the stress out of me. "You said something about Richard or Darren? Something about ‘the guy’ in the computer shop?" "Yeah." I gulped. Don’t you dare cry in front of Leo, Piper. Don’t. You. Dare. "What did he do? Which one was it?" "Richard. It was only him in the shop today. Um... well... I went to get my computer back." I lifted my head so he could better hear me, but didn’t look directly at him. I felt shame and even acknowledging that word increased its power. Deep down I knew I shouldn’t blame myself but was so damn embarrassed that the incident had occurred. "Right." 217

"And he made some crack about spending the night with him." "He what?" "Yeah. Anyway, I thought, maybe that’s just his sense of humor." "Well he’s never made that sort of joke with me." "He wouldn’t, would he, Leo? You’re a man." "Even so. Blokey sense of humor. You’d think he would... sorry, sorry. Go on. I assume there’s more?" "Yes. I got the feeling he was just wasting time. I’m, well, I was on my lunch hour..." "Oh, of course. You haven’t called your boss yet?" "No, you told me not to do anything." "Good girl. Right, gimme your phone." "What, again?" "It worked out last time didn’t it?" "Yeah, I suppose you’re right." Obediently, I fished my mobile out of my bag and surrendered it. "What are you gonna do with it?" "I love how you ask that after handing it over. I assume your work number’s in here? Oh yeah. Under ‘W’ for work. How original. Okay. So I won’t use up your minutes again..." He winked, lifted his own phone out of his inside jacket pocket and copied the number over. "There." He handed my mobile back while holding his own to his ear. "What’s your boss’s name?" "Sylvia." "Sylvia? Great. I’ll just—oh hello, can I speak to Sylvia please? Oh, she’s not? Can I ask... Lori?" He tilted his head at me as if to ask, is she okay? and I gave a thumbs up. "I’m a friend of Piper’s, Leo Carson? Yeah, yeah, I remember. Anyway, the reason I’m phoning is she’s going to be unable to come back in this afternoon... No, not really. You see she’s had a... well, a bit of bad news, so... no, nothing like that. An upset, you could call it. She’s not feeling too great at the moment, so... oh I expect so. Oh, is she not?" He laughed and I wondered what Lori had said. "Yeah, I used to get like that all the time but now I’m self-employed, so... they can sort it out tomorrow. Yeah. You do that. Thanks Lori. Bye now." He hung up, pocketed his phone and grinned. "There. You now have the rest of the day off thanks to my 218

gift of the gab." I gaped. "Well? Say something. Oh, you’ll still have to carry on your next shift tomorrow, but I figure an afternoon isn’t bad. Don’t want to push your luck, do I?" "Uh... thanks?" "Pleasure. I said you’d explain everything tomorrow which gives you the rest of the day to come up with some bullshit, or else you can tell her what really went down. After you tell me, of course." "Oh. Right. Where was I?" "You said you thought he was wasting time?" "Oh, yes. Wasting time. He mentioned you. Said you’d told him I worked in a diner." "Mentioned it in passing, yeah." "So he made a comment on my uniform." "Hmm." Leo leaned to one side, eyed my legs and I shifted them uncomfortably, tucked them under my seat. "Sorry. What did he say?" "That it wasn’t the sort of dress women should get away with wearing in the daytime unless..." "Unless what?" "Don’t know." I shrugged, chewed a fingernail. "He didn’t finish. But he said it was a hot dress. And he made some remark about the customer being satisfied, but he said it in a really... icky voice. You know?" "Fuck." "Sorry. I, um... well..." "Piper, don’t you say sorry." He stroked my thigh, rested his hand on my knee. I flinched. But he kept his hand there. "Anything else?" "Just the way he looked at me." I entwined my fingers in a prayer position, bit my thumbnail, looked away from him. "I’m sure he..." Looked at all the dirty photos I’ve got on my computer? Oh yeah, smart move telling Leo that one, Holt. "Sure he what?" A squeeze of my knee and it tickled. Wasn’t uncomfortable. "He... anyway, he asked a few questions." "What. Questions." "About you." 219

"Oh really?" "And he said..." That I was just some chick you’d picked up in a bar. How to ask Leo to confirm or deny that one without sounding needy? "Piper..." The warning tone, back in his voice. "You’d better tell me." "He said as I was some chick you’d picked up in a bar, he assumed... I thought... uh..." Taking a deep breath, I ploughed on. "He knew we met in a bar, so I thought perhaps you’d mentioned something... in passing... and, well, he’d misread it..." "You thought I’d spoken to him about you?" Leo frowned, straightened in his seat, lifted his hand away from my leg. "Well obviously you had, I just wondered..." "You don’t seriously think I’d speak so disrespectfully of a woman, and behind her back too, do you?" "No, no, I... well, I don’t know. He just... he knew things..." I faltered and gave up. Leo’s mouth thinned out into a bleached line, but the frown still marred his brow. "What things?" "Where I worked, how we met." "Yes. Because I said a girl I’d met in a bar and got talking to was having computer troubles. And as you worked in a diner in town, you might come in during your lunch break one day this week. That’s all I said, Piper. Christ. You don’t think I’d... look, just go on. What else did he say?" "He..." Again, shame washed over me. Shame born of wondering if I’d somehow led Richard on and then insulted Leo without even trying. "He asked if we were..." "If we were what?" "If we were seeing each other," I blurted out. "Or if it was just a fling. I said I didn’t know, ‘cause I don’t, but anyway, that doesn’t matter. He told me you’d fuck anything with a pulse anyway, so..." "He said what!" Leo’s voice was loud enough to draw the attention of nearby diners. He glanced around him then dipped his head closer to my ear. "Are you sure?" "Yes, of course I am! Christ, I doubted myself when I left, but I know what I heard." "So where’s your computer? What did you do with it?" 220

"I left it there." "It’s still in the shop? Jesus, you must’ve left in a hurry." I lay my hands flat on the table, palms down and the plastic was warm against my skin, having been under the sun all morning, despite the awning extending from the cafe window above our heads. "Did he..." Leo began, and I met his gaze. Tentatively. "Did he try it on?" "Um..." I brought my shoulders up in a childish shrug, trying to make myself look smaller. "Kinda. Yeah," I said again. "How kinda yeah?" "He threatened to... well, not threatened, I mean, it was sort of like... anyway, he..." "Get to the point, Piper. I want to know what he did." "He pointed out there was no one else in the shop and threatened to take me 'round the back and—" "Fucking hell, Piper, you are kidding!" He drew the attention of even more diners this time, but didn’t give them a moment’s attention. "Tell me you’re kidding. He didn’t really say that... did he?" He took both of my hands in his own and suddenly I didn’t feel so interrogated, or obligated to diminish my story. I feel better when you’re touching me. "Yes, Leo. Yes he did. And I ran out of the shop in case... well, anyway. I left, because I wondered if I’d done something to lead him on, or... encourage him somehow, but I can’t think of anything that would have given him that idea..." "I can’t fucking believe this." Leo slumped, still holding on to one of my hands, which reassured me it wasn’t me he had trouble believing, but rather the fact this had happened at all. "He’s never been like that... sure, I’m a bloke, but... you’d think you’d have some idea of what another fella’s like... but then..." He turned to me with a rueful smile. "You are a good-looking woman, so he probably thought he’d try his luck and I’ve never seen him socially, so have no idea what his social skills are like and..." "Trust me, Leo. He has none." "Apparently not." He ran his thumb over the back of my hand, lost in his own thoughts, giving the impression of a 221

man concentrating hard. Or planning something. I shivered at his absent-minded touch. Stared at his thumb moving across the back of my hand. "So he didn’t..." "No." "Good. I mean, he didn’t touch you or anything." Involuntarily, my spine rippled and the movement caught Leo’s eye. "What? What did he do?" "Just, I think, you know when you brush past someone...?" "Yes...?" "I wondered if I imagined it, or if it was an accident, but I could have sworn he felt my arse." "Jesus fucking Christ, this gets worse," he hissed. "No man..." He pointed at me with his free hand. "No man feels you up accidentally. I know from experience, that when I touch your arse, it’s ‘cause I want to. And I’ve never got the impression you minded." Well no. That’s because I didn’t. "So you don’t think he might have...?" "Jesus, I can’t believe this bloke. I’ve known him for months and I’ve thrown so much business his way. He’s had thousands off me for hardware and he goes and does this? I mean, not that I’m saying he... it’s not like I own you or anything but Christ... you’d think you’d get to know a guy... Mind you, I’ve only ever seen him in a business context, so... Right. Well." He slapped his hand down on the table and I jumped. "First things first. We go back to pick up your equipment and take it from there." "We?" I echoed. "Um, yeah. We. Of course. We’ll go. Both of us. We will." He covered my hand with his. "Don’t worry. I’ll go in with you. Or maybe you could wait in the car. We’ll figure something out. Mind you, I guess you’d have to be there to check everything was in order. Did you leave it in a laptop bag, I assume? Ah, like I said, doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out. Come on, I’m parked at the bottom of Burnham Street." "Double?" "’Course not. I paid for a ticket and parked legally. As if I’d ever break the law." "Leo. We both know that isn’t true." I grabbed my 222

handbag and stood. "Are you ever going to stop taking the piss out of my deep, dark secrets?" "For as long as you’re absolutely unashamed of them? No." Leo shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, sticking out one elbow and I took it to be an invitation to hook my hand through, which I did. It felt natural, that we should walk hand in arm. Like a couple, I thought. Despite my don’t think like that reaction I couldn’t help it. I did think like that. At least for as long as we touched. It took us a minute or two to reach his car. He zapped it with his key fob and I was about to grab the passenger side door handle when he leaned over, one hand on the small of my back, the other opening the door for me. The sharp movement startled me but instead of jumping away from him, something strange happened. My body automatically leaned in to him. I turned my head, caught a whiff of his aftershave, inhaled deeply and wet my lips without thinking. His eyes caught mine and his gaze dipped to my lips. I knew what he thought, because I thought the same thing. The hand on my back pulled me in and he stared at my mouth; I’d been self-conscious in his presence before but never like this. Fully clothed, in public, and the way he looked at me sent shivers up my spine. Or it could have been his touch. His free hand came up to my face, thumb grazing my bottom lip and he inhaled sharply, as if taking a breath in readiness for speech, but no. He tilted his head, leaned in and paused. Touched his forehead to mine. Closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "I really want..." I know. I want it too. Touching his face with both my hands, I pulled him closer and kissed him, instead of waiting for him to kiss me. We fell into it, like we’d done it a million time before, known each other for a thousand years, experts on each other’s bodies who still hungered for more of what we already knew. The familiarity jolted through me and we jerked apart. "No time for that, Pipes." Smirking, he licked his lips 223

as if tasting the memory of our kiss, pulled the passenger door open and made a sweeping motion with the other hand. "Your carriage awaits. At least until my ticket runs out. And may I say how splendid it is watching you get into such a low car when you’re wearing a short dress?" He walked round the front of his Jag and when he got in the driver’s side, his jaw set. "Shit." He did up the seatbelt, started up the car and stared straight ahead. "That was really stupid." "What?" He glanced at me while pulling away from the curb. "Making that remark about your dress. You know." He kept his eyes on the road as he drove, the streets and buildings speeding past. We’d arrive at the computer shop within a couple of minutes at this rate. "After what Richard said." "Oh. That. Well it’s different coming from him." "Which means it’s okay coming from me?" I could have sworn he sounded hopeful. "Given how, shall we say, ‘well-acquainted’ we’ve been, I’d say you get a free pass to leer at me." "That’s good to know," he murmured, easily heard over the gentle purr of the engine, one hand on the wheel and the other— —on my knee. My breath caught at the back of my throat and I only managed to breathe properly when he lifted his hand away to grip the wheel. I tried not to tut or groan in disappointment. "It’s funny, isn’t it?" He continued to speak in a quiet voice, as if musing as he drove. "How one person touching you can turn your stomach, but someone else’s hand can..." "Yeah." I knew. He didn’t need to say any more. I knew.

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Twenty Two Leaning my elbow on the window, chewing my thumbnail, I watched the scenery—if one could call it that— pass by and the computer shop got nearer with each passing second. Too soon, Leo’s Jag screeched to a halt in the forecourt and he killed the engine. He made no move to get out. Didn’t even look at me. But I sneaked a sideways glance at him. "What do you want to do?" he asked. His jaw set again, and a nerve twitched in his cheek, anger where his dimple should have been. Stay here, my head said. "I want to go in," my mouth said. "Really?" "No, not really, but... I can’t expect you to do it... I mean, look after... ah, fuck it, you know what I mean." "You’re a grown woman who can’t expect a man to hold her hand everywhere she goes, even though you’re still a little sick at the thought of confronting a guy who came on way too strong?" "That’s it." I bit my lip, startled into drawing blood with the sharp edge of one tooth when Leo suddenly turned his head towards me. "Right then." He gave my hand a squeeze. "Let’s do this." In one fluid movement he was up and out of the car. Me, I took a few seconds longer, given the fact I wasn’t used to his Jag even though this wasn’t my first ride—trip—in it, and the butterflies in my stomach. "Leo, man!" Richard greeted him as soon as he walked 225

through the door. "What brings you—" He saw me. "Oh." "Yeah. Oh," was all Leo said in return. There was another customer in the shop, an elderly gentleman, so politeness was called for. "Um...I’ll be right with you. Just let me see to this gentleman first." Richard’s eyes darted first one way and then the other, unable to focus on Leo alone. Or me. Clearly unsure what was going on, he was gratifyingly nervous, which meant I probably wasn’t the only one in danger of puking with nerves that afternoon. He wrapped up the transaction with the man who had purchased a single ink cartridge and pushed the till drawer shut. I stood to one side to let the gentleman exit the shop, smiling as he passed, more out of nervousness than good manners, swallowing hard. "Well." Leo crossed his arms. "I believe you have something that belongs to my friend?" "Oh. Yes. She left her computer here earlier. Had to, uh... rush back to work?" Richard suggested, shooting a glance in my direction, staying behind the till. "I suggest she gets it back, then." "Yes. Yes—" Richard’s body moved but Leo stopped him with a single word. "No." Pause. He stroked the stubble on his chin. "I think Piper should be the one to fetch it. Do you know where it is, Piper?" "Yeah, it’s..." I thumbed over my shoulder. "It’s over there. I see it..." "Go and fetch it, then." Leo waved a hand in the direction of the workshop and when I took one uncertain step close to my precious laptop, he added, "Me and Richard will wait for you." The knife-edge atmosphere stabbed the pit of my stomach through to my spine, chilled the back of my neck and made the hairs there stand on end. I crossed the workshop floor, stuffed my computer and power cable into the bag I’d left there days before, zipped it up and instead of carrying it by the shorter handles, hugged it to my chest like a favorite childhood toy. I looked across the room at Leo and Richard, who now stood at the side of the counter rather 226

than behind it; his change of location made me nervous despite Leo’s presence. They muttered at each other through gritted teeth and I couldn’t hear all of their words. "...did you..." "...look, when I saw what she..." "...what sort of..." "...fucking photos, man, I thought..." "...so you did..." "...after what you said..." "...I did not!" Leo caught me looking and called across the workshop, "Are you done?" "Yes. Yeah, I’ve got it all." "Good, good." I hurried back to him, scurrying like a frightened mouse under Richard’s scrutiny, wondering exactly what he’d told Leo. Wondering what he’d seen. "Aren’t you going to test it then?" Leo asked. Richard, it seemed, wasn’t in the mood for talking to me any more. That, I could live with. "No, no. I’ll check it when I get it home. If there’s anything wrong with it, I’ll take it to another shop. I’m not coming back here." Richard scowled. "It was fine when I—" "Enough." Leo growled and it took a moment for me to realize he addressed Richard. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what had passed between them, or indeed, what Leo had in mind for later. "Piper?" Though speaking to me, he continued to scowl at Richard, who was just as tall but looked smaller in stature now. "If you’re all set?" With my handbag slung over my shoulder and my laptop bag clutched in one arm, I used my free hand to pull the door open, not so panicked as the last time I’d done so, but just as jumpy, this time with relief. "Hey, wait a minute!" Richard took a step in my direction and my heart skipped but Leo headed him off, stepping between us both. "Aren’t you forgetting something?" I stood in the doorway, looking back at them, Richard glaring at me with strong dislike bordering on...hate, possibly...flashing in his eyes. Leo’s facial expression I 227

couldn’t see. But his monotone told me everything, chilling in its simplicity. "And what’s that?" Richard’s glance flickered from me, to Leo, and back again. "Payment." "Oh." It had completely flown out of my head. "Piper, shut the door," Leo said, and I let go of it automatically, my hand going for my bag. He looked over his shoulder at me and waved. "No, no, I’ll take care of this." "I... you can’t... you’ve already done enough..." My voice trailed away as one hand searched inside his jacket, presumably for his wallet. "Come on, make up your mind," Richard muttered, and I wondered how he had the gall to speak in that way. All things considered, I reckoned he’d got off lightly. A few scowls from Leo, the odd cross word. "Damn it, what did I do with it...?" Leo murmured, half turning to me in confusion. "Did you leave it in the car?" I asked. "Here, hold this." I offered him my laptop bag. "I’ve got—" "Ah, there it is." Pleasure spread over his face in the form of a grin so wide his teeth glinted, his eyes sparkled. "Payment, is it? How much?" "Thirty-five." Richard crossed his arms. "Right." Leo winked at me and I gasped. Such a strange thing to do in this situation. Then I saw why, as he withdrew something from his inside jacket pocket. A balled fist. He drew his arm back, swung it round and punched Richard clean in the face. It didn’t make a sound. But Richard falling backwards into a display of Bluetooth dongles, knocking them to the floor before stumbling to the ground himself, did. Leo peered over him, flexing his fingers. "Piper, I think we’re done here." "You punched him." "So I did." He put his arm round my shoulder, flexed the fingers on his other hand. "Shit, that’s gonna hurt in a few hours." "I mean, you punched him." 228

"Mmm. I know. And he stayed down. Wise man." He threw a glance over his shoulder as I opened the door and we stepped outside. "Oh, and Richard? Keep the change."

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Twenty Three Leo didn’t say a word when he pulled up outside my block. He killed the engine and in so doing, stilled my beating heart. If he’d kept the engine running I would have taken that as a sign he was scooting off elsewhere. Back to his meeting? Another one? An office somewhere, another property he was interested in buying? None of that was an option. He parked outside my apartment block and underscored his presence by undoing his seatbelt with one flick. One hand on his knee and the other arm leaning against the driver door, he said, "Mission accomplished, then." "Hmm." I thought for a moment, my seatbelt still done up as if I was planning on staying in this car while he got out. "I got my computer back and de-virused for free, and you got to punch someone." "I know." He looked at me sideways and winked. "I love it when I get to act all manly." I undid my seatbelt and opened the door before he could get out and do the gentlemanly ‘let me help you’ thing. "Hey." He followed me up the steps to my block’s entrance. "Hey, Piper." "Yeah?" I stopped and frowned. "You’re..." He brushed a solitary finger over a strand of my hair even though I didn’t think I was that disheveled so he must have been touching me for the sake of it. "Did you forget I was here?" "No, no." Busying myself with rummaging in my handbag—or trying to—I looked away from him, and he lifted 230

my laptop bag out of my arms. "Allow me." Treating myself to a brief glance in his direction, I recovered my keys and let us into my block. "Why do you have to live up so many flights of stairs, Piper?" "It keeps me fit." "It’d have to; there’s no lift." "We can’t all afford snazzy loft apartments, Leo." Leave me alone; no, don’t leave me alone. "Besides, you’re strong and manly enough to cope with lugging a laptop bag up the stairs, aren’t you?" "None stronger, babe." Neither of us said anything more for the remainder of the climb and when we reached my door, images of the last time he’d been here flashed through my mind. I unlocked the door up against which he’d fucked me. Stepped onto the carpet I’d fallen to afterwards. "Where do you want this?" "I’ll take it," I said, relieving him of my bag and heading straight to the living room, not looking at him, touching him, waiting to check if he followed. "Aren’t you going to have a look at it?" Leo’s voice in the living room doorway made me jump. "No." I’d put the laptop bag on the floor beside the settee and slid it back a few inches, out of sight between that and my end table. "I’ll check it later. I really can’t be bothered with it just now." I kicked off my shoes, threw my handbag and coat onto the armchair and flopped onto the settee, leaning on its arm, one hand shielding my eyes. His weight disturbed the settee cushions and pulled me to one side like gravity would attract a satellite. A hand on my knee. A thumb, caressing. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes again, but stared straight ahead at my fireplace rather than to the side, at him. "How d’y’feel now?" he asked in a low voice. "God knows." I thought for a long moment. "Relieved. Tired. Wrung out. Creeped out—" "Not by my presence I hope." "No." 231

Silence descended, thick and oppressive and choking, like smog. Leo inhaled sharply, moved again, this time facing me, one leg curled up underneath him, his arm—the nonpunching one—along the settee back. He said nothing, and took my hand in his, bruised knuckles rippling as he flexed his fingers and clasped mine. His scrutiny was too damn much for me and I leapt to my feet, got halfway across my living room before I realized what I was doing. "Where are you going?" "I don’t know. Nowhere. I just..." I even resented him asking me that. As if I couldn’t even stand up, take a few steps without him making demands of me. Hands on hips, I faltered as I walked, and stopped, eyeing the door while still hyperaware of his presence behind me. Then right behind me, a palm on the small of my back. "Piper. What’s wrong? No, no, stupid question. It’s obvious what’s—" "I've been smothered enough already today thank you," I snapped, the words coming from my mouth but not my brain. It was as if someone else spoke for me with my voice. "I wasn’t aware that asking someone a question constituted smothering them," he whispered against my ear. "Threatening to take them 'round back and give them a good seeing to? Now yeah, that I could say was smothering behavior." "Exactly what I was referring to." "Good. We’re on the same page then. I might be hurt if I thought you were comparing my genuine concern with the behavior of a man slightly less gentlemanly than myself." "Does that mean you believe me then?" I murmured, craving his validation and mentally kicking myself for this need. "Why wouldn’t I?" His voice had a kick to it, like a laugh he’d choked on. "You knew him before you knew me." "Do you want me to disbelieve you?" Leo asked, the laughter now more recognizable. "I want you to..." I stepped away from him, to the 232

side, looking over my shoulder at his lips, willing him to stop smiling, and he did. "What?" Go away. Leave me alone. Stay. Stop making me feel— "Piper. It’s understandable you’d be out of sorts, but I’m not the one who... well, you know." "I know." Screwing my eyes shut, I turned my back on him again but he was there, always there. I didn’t even have to look to know he was there. I felt him. "Turn around." Don’t let him tell you what to do, Piper. I turned around. His hand went to my waist, resting on my hip bone and his thumb strained up, skirting an inch or two below my breast and I cursed the fabric separating his skin from mine. "What did he say?" "Who?" "Richard." His name felt like a worm on my tongue. "Oh." Leo scowled, his gaze following the progress of his hand as it slid up my waist, cupped my breast through my dress, moved higher. "Him. Nothing." "I saw you speaking with him while I was picking up my laptop." "He was just... being a douche." "Yeah. I gathered." "Oh, you know." His hand rested on my collarbone. "No. I don’t. Tell me." A heavy sigh. "Piper." "Leo." "He denied it, of course. Said he’d assumed you were a casual fling to me, so he thought he’d make a pass, given the nature of certain files he’d seen on your computer..." "Oh." "Hmm." Leo inclined his head, crooked his finger and ran it along the inside of my neckline. His fingertip tickled my skin. "And..." I wasn’t sure if it was him touching me that made my heart beat faster or the thought of what I was about to say. "Did he say anything about what he’d found?" A slow smirk twisted his lips. "Why? Are you worried I 233

might find out your deep, dark secrets?" "No." Yes. I am worried you might find something out to make you think less of me and I hate, hate, hate that your opinion matters so much. "I have no deep, dark secrets. Just stuff on my computer that he looked at." "Come on, Piper. Everyone has secrets." Without thinking I shrugged his hand off me and his head flicked up. His eyes widened momentarily before two vertical lines appeared above the bridge of his nose. A hint of a frown, but nothing more than that. "What...?" "I also have the right to privacy, and to know what people have said about me while my back was turned, so if he said anything about me, I want to know." "Piper, he didn’t say anything. Just a bunch of bullshit." Leo’s hand reached for me but I dodged out of his way. "What the...?" "Leo, just tell me what he said." "Nothing! Nothing that made any sense. Just that he’d..." "He’d what?" "Thought you..." "Thought I what? Was an easy target?" "More or less." He shrugged. "Christ!" I pushed Leo away with both hands on his chest and it must have been surprise that unbalanced him and made him stumble backwards because it sure as hell couldn’t have been my brute strength against his. I’d lose every time on that front. Every. Damn. Time. "Hey." He neared me by one step but I kept him at arm’s length. He could so easily have overpowered me but made no attempt to do so. My fingers curled and his shirt bunched under my hands. Still he made no attempt to pull my hands off him or near me against my will. "God, this is..." He cocked his head as if waited for me to finish, listening intently. "I hate..." My tongue refused to finish the sentence. I hate that I had to ask for help. "It’s not..." Fair. "I wish..." I didn’t want you so much. "You shouldn’t..." Be here because I asked for help. You should be here because you want to be. 234

"This..." Spoils it all. "Piper." Something in his gentle tone of voice told me that he wanted me to lower my arms. But I didn’t. Possibly couldn’t. "Piper." He waited a few seconds before taking my hands and lifting them away himself. It was easier for me to let him than to cede any ground by moving myself. As he stepped forward, my arms bent and I ended up with my hands against his shoulders. His hands snaked around my waist but I couldn’t look him in the eye. I didn’t dare tilt my head back. "It’s not me you’re angry at. I’m not the one who—" "You were—" I interrupted him, then interrupted myself by choking on my own words. "I was what?" His hand crept up my back, cupped the back of my neck, tightened, as if he was trying to make me lean back to look him in the eye. But I resisted, and he didn’t force me. The tension between us remained, his hand a welcome pressure on my skin. "You were... there," I heard myself say, and a metaphorical light came on. That was the problem. "You asked me to be. You phoned me, remember?" "I... I know. But... fuck." Again his shirt fabric bunched under my fingers and he inhaled sharply, though quietly. So quietly I wasn’t even sure if I’d heard it. "Why did you phone me?" His breath warmed my forehead as it had so many time before but this was the first time it had felt uncomfortable. My entire body longed to get away from him because I was dangerously close to not being able to let him go. Better to split now than to get too used to the way he felt under my palms. Oh. Too late. "Piper? Why did you phone me?" "Because..." Say something. Anything. Even if it makes him step back. Especially if it makes him step back, because then he won’t be touching you and he won’t be feeding your addiction. "You were the one who’d recommended that place." "Is that all?" "I needed my computer back and I didn’t want to go back in there myself." 235

"Didn’t you have anyone else you could have called?" "Are you trying to tell me I shouldn’t have phoned you?" "Piper. I told you earlier I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to. You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to. I was there because I wanted to be." "So why ask?" "Because I want to know why it was me you phoned." "Because my brother would have either taken the piss or gotten angry—" "I got angry." "Yes, but not at me." "He would have been angry at you?" "No. No, I don’t think so. He would have been angry on my behalf, I think," I guessed, imagining Matthias’s reaction to the incident when I told him. "I’m angry on your behalf." "Yes, but you’re..." "I’m what?" "You’re not family. I knew I’d have to see Matthias again." Leo sucked in a breath through pursed lips. He stood back, shaking his head and the disapproval in his eyes damn near killed me. "That was cold, Holt. Real fucking cold." "But... but... he’s always around. And you’re... not." "So... let me get this straight. You asked for my help because you figured you wouldn’t be seeing me again anyway, so fuck it, who cared how things went?" And then I realized. It wasn’t disapproval in his eyes. It was disappointment. No, not quite. Something else. "No, it wasn’t like that at all..." But my voice was quiet. Uncertain. "Then..." His jaw clenched and he swallowed back whatever he’d been about to say. He inhaled slowly. Gave speech another attempt. "Did you ever wonder why I came into the diner that day?" "I figured if you had a reason you’d tell me." A quiet laugh. "Jesus, Piper, you don’t make things easy for me, do you?" "What else was I supposed to say?" 236

"Fuck." He stiffened, lifted his head, looked down at me and stroked the back of my neck, making it clear he wanted me to look him in the eye, so I did, but it was excruciating to do so. "Give me something here. Don’t make me do all the work." "What do you want me to do?" "You love those loaded questions, don’t you? I wanted to see you again. That’s why I came into the diner. I had some free time and drove back after a meeting to see you." "But you didn’t know I’d be working that day. Why not just phone?" "I wanted to see you, not speak to you on the fucking phone. Jesus, Piper; are you deliberately being obtuse?" "No. I just don’t..." Couldn’t continue. "Don’t what?" Don’t want to hear you say it, because then I’ll get used to it. "You really don’t realize what you’re doing here? Wow, let’s see... you practically admit you called me over your brother because you wouldn’t have to see me again, so it didn’t matter what happened. Didn’t ask why I came in to see you at work, added to which you’re acting like my touch is suddenly repellent after I went out of my way to come pick you up—" "You said you didn’t mind!" "Would it have killed you to show a bit more gratitude?" "Gratitude? Right, thank you for coming to my rescue. I—" "Know what? On second thought, don’t bother. If I have to extort a thank you, or any honesty out of you, it means fuck all." He lifted his hands away from my face, held them inches from my skin and glared at me, as if waiting for me to say something. "Leo, I..." His eyebrows lifted. Giving me nothing. Which was, apparently, all that I’d given him. "I called because..." Still nothing on his face but a blank stare, lit only by the occasional flash of anger in his eyes. "I needed..." Nothing, nothing, nothing. "I wanted someone to help me get my computer back, and as you’d 237

recommended the shop, you were the first person I thought of, and... Christ, Leo, say something." His lips pursed briefly and I couldn’t take my eyes off them. From not wanting to look at him from being unable to tear my gaze away. "I know," he said. "Not nice, is it?" "What do you want me to say?" "The truth would be a good start." "That was the truth." "So you called me for no other reason than the technicality of me being the one who put you in touch with Richard?" "Yes." "Absolutely no other reason? Because that’s really rubbing it in, you know. And before you ask rubbing what in, let me tell you, to make it clear getting information out of me isn’t like getting blood out of a stone. I’ll be honest with you. No, I didn’t realize Richard Taylor was such a sleazebag but have you ever considered that I might feel the tiniest bit guilty for putting you in that situation and yes, thank you for giving me the opportunity to redeem myself by getting you out of it. No, honestly, there’s no need to show gratitude, I know, I know. I’m just the asshole who got you in trouble after trying to help you out. Don’t worry about how bad I feel. I probably deserve it for making Princess Piper so fucking vulnerable." "Oh." The sudden absence of contact when he pushed himself away from me and turned his back hurt. It hurt. Either way it sucked the oxygen out of my lungs and when he picked his jacket up from the arm of the settee my heart sank. "Don’t." Pulling his jacket on, still with his back turned, he stopped, with one arm halfway through the sleeve and threw over his shoulder, "Don’t what?" Don’t make me hate you. If you make me say what I’m thinking, I’ll hate you for making me vulnerable. "Don’t go." I couldn’t believe I’d said it. "At least, not like this. At least tell me what I’ve done." He turned, slowly, shrugging into his jacket as he did so, and a line from a Christina Rossetti poem came to mind: 238

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. "You really want to know what you’ve ‘done’? You want to know why I’m pissed off with you? Are you sure you can stand to hear it?" "Tell me." He cocked his head, shrugged. "Very well. I’m annoyed that you claim to have only called on me today because I’m not a family member therefore you wouldn’t have to see me again. I mean, if my company is so repulsive or damned inconvenient, fair enough, but please, don’t use me to get you out of a sticky situation and then dismiss me so easily. It would have been kinder all round if you had asked... Matthias, was it? I mean, sure, you would have had to have faced him again, but as a sibling, I’m sure he wouldn’t have made too much of having seen his sister in a..." He frowned as he faltered, adjusting his jacket and staring into the middle distance. "My God, that’s it." He focused on me again. A rueful smile played on his lips. "That’s it, that’s why you’re being such a bitch." Amazement kept me mute. "You can’t stand the fact I didn’t just clear off as soon as you got your fucking computer back. You wanted my help and you wanted the guy who saw you vulnerable to fuck off instead of sticking around to remind you that you might need other people occasionally. I mean, Jesus, if that happened you might actually be obligated to give something in return. Good luck to your brother. Maybe he’s spent the last quarter century learning how to put up with your bullshit but I really can’t be bothered. Look." He took a deep breath as he did up his buttons and I suspected he was giving himself something to do so he didn’t have to look at me. "I was glad when you phoned ’cause it was an excuse to see you again despite the circumstances. I figured if I waited, eventually I’d catch you when you weren’t going through a fucking crisis and I’d at last have your attention long enough to be able to ask you out properly, but... Christ, I only wanted to..." That was it. I had royally fucked up. Whatever he wanted, I wanted it too. Such realizations always came a moment too late. "Don’t worry, Piper." He winked, and my heart leapt. Perhaps it was all right after all. "I’m pretty sure I can cure 239

myself of that affliction soon enough." I screwed my eyes shut as he left the room, tried not to hear his footsteps as they thudded down the hall but the sound echoed in my head, and it was only after the door clicked shut—a surprisingly gentle sound after such an exit— that I realized it wasn’t his footsteps I heard after all.

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Twenty Four "Okay, enough of this." Matthias dropped the wooden spoon and it clattered against the edge of the pan. The meat and onions sizzled, spreading the aroma of the chili around his small kitchen and, sitting at his drop leaf ‘dining table’, I sniffed. Partly out of emotion, partly because my brother was the best cook I knew. Well. Maybe the second best now. "What’s up with you?" he asked. Demanded, even. I’d known it would come to this. We often spent social time together, but he must have heard something in my voice when I’d suggested we get together for dinner one evening. What’s more, I’d suggested coming to his house, which was unusual given that I’d called him. "You’ve got a bloody cheek!" he’d said, but for some reason, agreed. "There must be something wrong," he continued. "You didn’t say ‘nothing’, which is the usual woman’s answer when you ask what’s up. Don’t you lot expect us blokes to be mind readers?" Taking a deep breath I lifted my clasped hands from under my chin and laid them flat on the table, bracing myself. "I think I fucked up." "Oh?" Matthias frowned, inclined his head. His entire body stiffened then as he gave me all his attention. No gentle mockery or good natured ribbing between siblings. "I..." A ball of emotion swelled up in my throat and it took two or three swallows to beat it back down. "I met someone." "Oh." A pause, while he thought it over. "Does this someone have a name?" "Leo." 241

"So... you fucked up?" "As only I can, yes." Matthias exhaled slowly, groaning. "You like him?" "Yeah. I do." It was a relief to say it, but painful at the same time. "You must do, to be concerned about fucking up. You normally just walk away and move on to another victim." "Math..." "I know what you’re thinking, Pipes, but no, I wasn’t referring to Gray. Not specifically. I’ve seen it happen time and time again. Even with Andrew. Man, of all the blokes you could have dated properly, you chose him?" "I realize I... I just don’t know why." "I do." "Oh?" I lifted my head a little, waited for him to explain. "Yeah. He was easy to walk away from. Think about it." Matthias turned back to the pan when the contents started sizzling. As he stirred, he explained. "He looked good, I’ll give him that. And I’m assuming you fancied him." "Yeah. I did. We had some fun in bed—" "Argh!" Matthias yelped, and I wondered if he’d burned himself at the cooker. "Piper does not have a sex life. She is my sister. She is a virgin. La, la, la, not listening!" "Okay, okay, I fancied him but we never played hide the sausage. Ever." "Good. Good, now where was I?" "I dated Andrew because he was easy to walk away from." "Yeah. That’s right. Listen, don’t take offence but I used to look at you with Andrew and think, well, you never seemed completely into him. As if it was never permanent." "You can’t tell that. Even if your intentions are good, if something’s new you can never tell if it’s going to last forever." "No, no, but... it just seemed to me like you didn’t want it to last forever with him. Anyway." Matthias shrugged, continued stirring the pot. "I figured he was a placeholder boyfriend until someone better came along. Like you were off the market for a bit, bored with being a player, thought you’d take some time off, then when you got bored with him 242

after a few months, he’d be on his way." I opened my mouth to protest, but instantly realised something important. He was right. "Maybe." "No maybes," he muttered. "I just don’t get why all these adventures have to be with different people." "They don’t. It’s just that I’ve never found a man who was equal to my demands." "Demands?" "Desires. Urges." "Which you don’t have, because you’re all sweet and innocent, right?" He chuckled. "So. This Leo. Tell me about him." "Oh..." I shrugged. "I don’t know what to say." "Where’d you meet him?" "Kelleher’s. We swapped numbers and hooked up a week later. We only stayed out for one drink then came home for—" "Skip the bits I wouldn’t want to hear." "We ended up spending the whole weekend together. He cooked. He made me laugh. I went back to his place." "You what? Are you crazy? Pipes, I don’t even like the thought of you bringing guys back to your—" "Math, Math, it was fine. Honestly. I trusted him." A chill ran through me at those words. How true they were. He was trustworthy, and I’d blown it. "Hmm. I know what blokes are like." "Oh fuck off. Some women are only after one thing too, bro." As his eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted, I added, "Uh, but I would never do that with him. Or anyone. Until I’m married. And even then, probably not." "Right..." "Anyway. We parted ways, he visited me at work. Just came in one day to see me, and... well..." Matthias whistled through his teeth. "Out of the blue?" "Yep." "Hmm. Okay, so he’s keen. Go on." "He recommended the computer shop where I got my laptop spit-polished." I’d told Matthias that it had gotten a virus, not how or from whom. Neither had I told him what had happened at the computer shop. I’d wanted to gloss over the whole incident but now it was the time for talking, I 243

took a deep breath and told him. The whole story. "Piper. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about this guy? I would’ve—" "I know exactly what you would have done, Math. But Leo already did that, remember?" "Yeah. Cool. I like this guy already. When do I get to meet him?" "Um, well..." "Ah. This is where the ‘Piper Holt fucks up yet again’ comes in, huh?" "You have such a way of making me feel loved." He shook his head, peered into the pot where the rice boiled. "Hmm. Few more minutes, then we’re done here I think. So yeah, I show my love by not putting up with your bullshit." My heart leapt. His philosophy sounded so much like Leo’s it wasn’t true. "I think you’d like him. Something tells me." "Then you better unfuck up and sort it, shithead." "I don’t know." I tapped my fingernails on the table, realized I wasn’t particularly hungry but it was a bit late to tell him that now. "It might be beyond unfuckifying." "So what did you do?" "What did I do?" "Yeah. You told me you fucked up. And that’s believable. You’re a Holt. It was probably all your fault." "Math, you’re not helping." "Sorry." He sighed, relaxed his stirring arm for a moment and glanced over at me. "Are you really hurting?" I cleared my throat, started to speak, failed and shut up again to gather my thoughts. "Course you are. Right. What happened? And I make no assumptions that it was down to you. Come on. ’Fess up." "Oh, it was my fault. It was. I said some things... I just don’t know why I said them..." "Break it down for me." "I pushed him away." "And... I’m assuming he didn’t want to be pushed?" "No. I don’t think..." My throat closed painfully around the words and I had to swallow down that ball of regret 244

again. "I believed..." "Come on, sis. Spit it out." "Okay. You won’t laugh?" "Fuck no!" Again the wooden spoon clattered against the side of the frying pan. "Jesus, I know I take the piss but you’re my sister. Come on, I promise." "I thought... I thought he was only after some fun and that was what I wanted too. But I got to like him, and I think I pushed him away because I didn’t want to get used to him. In case..." "In case he didn’t feel the same, and left?" "Yeah. That’s about the size of it." "Hmm. Well I’ve got news for you, Pipes. Newsflash: men have feelings too." "Yes, but does Leo? That’s what I don’t know." "Piper." Matthias tutted and flicked off the cooker rings. "Don’t be so stupid." "What?" "You heard me." "Yes, I did but—" "Tell me exactly what you said to him and how he reacted. As close to his exact words as you can remember. It might help you clear things up in your own mind. But I’d lay money on it... Anyway, what happened after you’d been to the computer shop?" "He drove me home. He came upstairs." "And...?" And again, I updated my brother on how Piper Holt, spinster of this parish, had monumentally screwed up. Sure, I’d had relationships before. Proper ones where I dated the guy as well as fucked his brains out. Some I even really cared about. But not like this. And Leo and I didn’t even have a relationship, so it was a mystery to me why I should care this much. "But the fact is," Matthias said when I’d finished, "you do care. Sometimes you have to stop analyzing it and just accept that it is." "Or was. Before it even got anywhere..." I interlocked my fingers again and rested my chin on my hands. "Matthias, can I asked you something?" "Sure." 245

"Do you think... do you think Leo really did..." "Piper." He hung his head while shaking it and, to my surprise, smiling. "You really are dense sometimes. The bloke admitted he was gonna ask you out, he decks a guy for defiling your honor, gets pissy when you push him away—physically push him away. And we know he didn’t have to do that. He’s taller than you, yeah? Stronger? He could have resisted, but he let you. You know what? I actually feel sorry for him. Sure, you were upset and this Richard fella—quite frankly I feel like decking him myself— but there was no need for you to cold shoulder Leo. You could’ve had a good thing going there, and—" "I know." I buried my head in my hands, couldn’t bear to think about it any further. I felt a hand on my shoulder, a reassuring squeeze. "Well, strictly speaking you never know until you... look, Piper. We both know you fucked up and there’s nothing that can change that but it’s certainly not as bad as you might think. Speak to the guy. Call him, whatever. It’s not like you can’t get in touch with each other." "But what if..." I couldn’t bring myself to say it. What if I took that risk and it came to nothing? "You never know until you try." Matthias bent to kiss the top of my head and whispered, "If you’re anything like the sister I think you are, you’ll have to swallow your pride and find out, because that’d be better than never knowing at all."

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Twenty Five I shouldn’t be doing this. This is such a bad idea. I’d be better off at home. The guy beside me at the bar winked when I approached and I could have sworn he looked me up and down, though in an appreciative way rather than leering. We’d crossed paths a couple of times, appeared to like the music playing in this room of the club, so it was inevitable we’d catch sight of each other from time to time. "You again," he said, having to move in close to make himself heard. He leaned one elbow on the bar, but still managed to twist his body so he half-faced me. "Me again." I winked back and eyed his left arm. From a distance I’d thought it looked like his muscle tight dark tee shirt had one sleeve longer than the other but up close, had seen it was a decorative tattoo stretching presumably from his shoulder all the way down to his wrist. Me and my tattoo fetish. This guy had more ink than Leo. Staring at him now, I told myself, Yes. Yes I do want to know what else is under that shirt. Anger made me horny, even though I chose not to analyse why I felt such irritation. "Can I see your tattoo?" He grinned and under the artificial, flashing lights of the club, his teeth flashed unnaturally white. So white they were almost blue. "Don’t you want to know my name first?" "I’m Piper." "Piper? I’ve never heard of anyone with that name before. I’m Jamie." 247

"Hello Jamie. Now can I see your tattoo?" "Sure." He rolled his short sleeve right up to the shoulder and turned so his left arm was towards me, his back to the bar. "See? Just a tattoo." His skin was like velvet under my touch. I couldn’t fully appreciate the colors but the design was easy enough to make out. Tigers, tropical birds, leaves, petals, so many elaborately but exquisitely drawn animals and plants I gasped. "This is the most beautiful tattoo I’ve ever seen." "Thanks. I say that like I deserve the credit for it. I kinda designed it, but I wish I could say I could draw like that." "Must have taken hours." "Christ yeah." "I bet it hurt." "Is that why you like guys with tattoos, then? ’Cause they can take the pain?" "Sure is." Hell, Piper, why not turn on the charm full force? I batted my eyelashes at him and almost laughed out loud at his response—his eyes widened, he smiled, looked away for a moment. Probably blushed too, though I couldn’t see under the occasional flashes of neon although I could make out the sharpness of his cheekbones and the vague shadow across his jaw. Not stubble, just a darkness that suggested in a few hours he’d need a shave. He—Jamie—held on to my shoulder as he dipped his head to mine again. "I bet I know what your next question will be." "Oh?" "Yes, I do have more. No, I can’t show you them all in public. Oh, and I don’t have any piercings either. Can I buy you a drink?" My heart skipped. What harm could it do? "Smirnoff Ice, thanks." While he tried to attract the attention of the barman I looked around. In a club on my own? Am I crazy? "So." Jamie slid the Smirnoff Ice bottle along the bar towards me. "I’m a waitress." "Huh?" "That was your next question." 248

"You must be psychic." I licked my lips, while staring at his. I hadn’t drunk any alcohol up to that point, having stuck to soft drinks yet was supremely confident. He wasn’t Leo, so I didn’t have to worry about impressing or offending him. I could just be myself without any concern for his reaction, because he meant nothing to me. He’s not Leo. I continued to stare, particularly at his bottom lip, full and probably very, very kissable. Just like his tattoos—both the one I’d seen and the promised ones I hadn’t. And I wondered what it would be like to lean over and kiss him, taste his skin. I had no qualms about kissing a man in public, had done so many a time before, and wanted to feel attractive again. Wanted to prove someone wanted me. But he’s not Leo. "Would you excuse me for a minute? I need to go freshen up." He smiled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled, so I knew it was genuine. "Do that girly thing women do like go to the ladies’ in packs, or discuss boys behind their backs?" "Something like that." He wasn’t to know I was here alone. I shuffled sideways through the crowd pressing towards the bar, and grinned at him, and as soon as my back was turned, the grin fell off my face and my shoulders slumped. I fought my way through the crowds, around the sunken dance floor and headed for the corridor leading to the ladies’. It was so obvious. So, so plain. He wasn’t Leo. No one in this place was. No one else was, full stop. I left my bottle in a dark corner and headed for the cloakroom. Within a minute I was outside, doing up the buttons and tie belt of my coat. As I’d left early there’d been no queue. And I’d probably find it easy to get a taxi at this time of night too. Okay, Piper, do it now. Find out where you’ll be getting that taxi to. Nerves got the better of me as I started walking and the cold whipped at my hair. It was a Saturday night. 249

Technically, early hours of Sunday morning. He could be out. Somewhere near me. Or out with... someone— No, Piper Holt. Stop thinking like that. Before my nerves got the better of me I fished my mobile out of my handbag, scrolled through my list of names and... Faltered. I’d been walking confidently. Striding, despite my high heels, and came to a halt, grateful there was no one right behind me to complain about my emergency stop. Tapping my thumb against my mobile phone, I bit my bottom lip so hard I tasted blood. Call. My nervous thumb hit the button and I held the phone to my ear. Listening to it ring at the other end nearly made my heart drop through my stomach. "Fuck." Voicemail. What now? Hang up? Leave a message? Try again later? Maybe he was deliberately ignoring my calls"Hi, Leo? It’s Piper." Oh, what a stupid fucking thing to say. If he ignored your call and left it to go to voicemail, of course he’d know who it was. "Uh, listen, I... I was calling because I’m in town tonight and I thought you might be out or nearby, or..." Oh Piper, it doesn’t matter what you thought. What matters is how you feel. My eyes closed, and I took a deep breath. He wasn’t picking up, so did it really matter what I said? "And I miss you." My stomach turned over when I heard myself utter those words. Sick with the feeling of exposure, my eyes watered, my heart rate sped up. Damage done, Piper. And I didn’t care. I’d said it, and I didn’t care. It wasn’t so bad, being honest, after all. I could have cried, sniffed back the emotion and spoke again. "I just miss you, is all." Realization of what I’d done gripped me and I hung up. It wasn’t fear; more an alien sense of liberation. I’d done it. Maybe not to his face, but circumstances hadn’t 250

allowed it. Would I have had the bottle to say those three little words if he’d been standing in front of me? I didn’t know. But said them I had, in my own way. If he calls back before I get to the taxi rank, I’ll go to his place. Or meet him wherever he is. Normally one to walk confidently, chin up, arms swinging when on my own late at night, to give a don’t mess with me impression to anyone else abroad at that late hour, I walked on this occasion very, very slowly. Giving Leo every chance I could to catch me before I reached the corner of the street where the cabs lined up. Gripping my phone, I was almost scared to reach that corner, because once there, if a cab awaited, I’d have nothing else to do but get in and go home. I checked it a few times, knowing there wouldn’t be anything to see because I’d have heard it ring and each time I did so my heart sank a little further. Fuck, maybe I called the wrong person by accident. No, stupid idea. You heard his voicemail message. How many Irish people do you know? All the same, I checked my recent calls log. Yep, definitely Leo Carson. Maybe he didn’t— Shaking my head, I told myself, no, Piper. You left the message, and yes, he got the message. Or it’ll be there waiting for him when he checks. You’ve done all you could. And that feeling of finality, so soon after the euphoria of my realization he was the one I wanted, brought tears to my eyes again. He was the one. As soon as I opened the passenger door of the first cab in the taxi rank and got in, the driver threw the typical line at me. "Where to, love?" I took a deep breath, gave him my address and went home.

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Twenty Six Every activity became monotonous by virtue of the fact it was something I wasn’t doing with, for, because of him. Every other man lost his individuality, labeled in comparison to he whom he was not. A name in negative. Not Leo, not Leo, not Leo. Customers in the diner, whose entrance made me crane to see the door whenever the bell tinkled. Men I passed on the street. Guys who called me. Even Matthias, who phoned to ask how I was. Names on my mobile phone screen, screen names on emails, signatures on credit card slips at work, none of them Leo. I escaped to the locker room round about the time I knew Matthias would be on his lunch break and checked my phone. Nothing. My heart couldn’t sink any further than it already had, so it made no difference to my mood. My blood pressure, on the other hand, was up and down like a yo-yo. Every time the door of the diner opened, all of my senses went on high alert, and given the amount of customers we had each day, that was a frequent event. Then when I saw who this new customer was not, the adrenaline disappeared, leaving me light-headed. I could curse you, Leo Carson. Your coming here even once means I’ll forever be looking out for you doing so again. "Hey, Piper. How’s it going?" Matthias greeted me. "You don’t mind me calling?" "Nah, course not. I don’t have long, though. We’re short staffed, so they’ve asked me to go back early. How’s work?" 252

"Hellish. I can’t stay on long either, this isn’t an official break, I’ve sneaked off." "Better watch. You’ll get in trouble." "I don’t really care." He tutted down the line. "Piper. That’s not the way to think." "I know, I know, but... I wonder if I should take a holiday from work? What do you think?" "Might do you some good." "Yeah, it’d stop me looking at the door every five seconds waiting for Leo to come in." "Still no word?" "No. Doesn’t look like there will be, either. I don’t know why... oh buggeration. Look, Math, I must be getting right on your tits with this. I’m even annoying myself—" "No, no, Piper. You’re not. Honestly. Stop trying to rush yourself into feeling better." "I like to be doing something, that’s all." "Have you thought about contacting him again?" "I already left a voicemail. It’s been a few days now. He obviously doesn’t want..." "Maybe he doesn’t know what to say in reply." "Bollocks. I basically laid it on the line. What more can I say?" "Maybe he’s thinking it over. He might be having trouble deciding what to say." "Even if he wants me to fuck off, he should at least call back and tell me so." "Yeah, ’cause you’d love that, wouldn’t you?" Matthias chuckled. "At least then I’d know. Mind you, it’s looking like no answer is my answer, as the self-help books say. I just would’ve preferred it..." I sighed. "If he’d come into your work and told you to your face that he wanted you to fuck off? No one goes out of their way to say something like that in person, do they?" He chuckled. "No. I guess. I—wait, what did you say?" "Uh, something about him coming into your work to tell you not to contact him? That no one would contact another person to tell them in person they didn’t want...?" "Math, you’re a genius!" 253

"I am? I mean, yeah, I am." "I could kiss you; I really could!" "Ugh. Please. But, uh... what did I say?" "It’s a long shot." "If it makes you feel better it’s worth it." "I remember once asking Leo why he came into my work instead of phoning, and he said he just wanted to see me." "Right...?" "Well... it’s worth a go, isn’t it? Or... I don’t know, what do you think? Bit creepy? Yeah, probably is. Fuck." "No, wait, wait. You mean you’re going to go see him?" "I thought I could..." "Well he came into your work. It’s only fitting if you go to his. Where does he work, anyway?" "Self-employed. He has offices. I don’t know where they are, but I could probably find them in the phone book. They’ll probably be registered under his surname. But listen... if you were a man-" "Thanks." "Oh, sorry. You know what I mean. Do you think it would be too much if a girl left you a voicemail then realized you didn’t like phone calls and decided to visit your home?" "Ordinarily, yeah, but... this time? Might be worth a shot. I mean, it seems to me like you hurt him pretty badly, so he could be sulking." "Leo Carson? Sulking?" "You know him better than I do, sis." "Yeah, but you know how men think better than I do." "Most of the time we don’t. Okay, gotta go. Go get ‘em, kid. I prefer you much better when you’re on a mission. No sister of mine is going to be a drip for long!" "Yeah, big kiss you patronizing bastard." "Mwah." He hung up, and I was surprised—pleasantly so—to realize I had a smile on my face as I tucked my phone away in my locker and returned to work.

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Twenty Seven "Just here will do," I said, and the taxi driver pulled over. I handed him a note, told him to keep the change and got out. As he sped off, I checked my appearance in my compact mirror, remembering when I’d done that just before meeting Leo for our first date. First and last. The date that had turned into a thirty-six-hour sex bender. I’d been nervous then but it was nothing compared to how I felt now. Hair straightened? Check. Make up done? Check. Not that either of those two items would matter to Leo—if he was at home. The stilettos? I knew he’d approve. If he was home. That, and willing to speak to me. "Come on Piper, you can do this," I murmured and snapped the compact shut. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I walked purposely but not fast, wanting to get there and yet not wanting to get there. My nerves increased with each step which shot my theory of ‘get the driver to drop you off a street or two away and you’ll have some walking time to calm down’ to pieces. I stopped in my tracks when I turned the corner into his apartment complex. No cars about but of course the parking garages were all undercover, indoors. Just as well it was a respectable area; it was after eight in the evening and this was unfamiliar territory. In more ways than one. My hand trembled as I raised it to the intercom panel on his block. Only one buzzer for the top floor entirely taken up by his loft, of course, so no room for mistakes. 255

"Fuck." Pulling my hand away, I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. "Come on Piper, you can do this." If he’s out, I’m not coming back. I can’t put myself through this— I lifted my hand to the button panel again. "Okay. Press it. It’s a fucking button. What are you so scared—?" My hand took on a life of its own and pressed, while I yet spoke and I nearly threw up. The buzzing continued for agonizing seconds. He’s not coming. Well at least I tri— "Hello?" Fuck. "Leo? It’s Piper." I’d never felt a second that lasted as long as that one. And I’d never felt relief as cold and all-consuming as that which I experienced when the door to his apartment block clicked open. Okay, well, that was a good sign. I darted indoors and headed for the lift bay. He didn’t say anything, but at least saying nothing meant no orders to never darken his doorstep again. And he let me in. I considered working off some of this nervous energy by taking the stairs, but doubted my legs would hold me up. So the lift it was, and it would get me to Leo all the sooner. I winked at the CCTV camera as I entered, before turning to press the ‘loft’ button, and wondered where the images were stored. Probably in a janitor’s room somewhere in the building as there were no visible concierges. Don’t look nervous even if you are, a voice said in the back of my mind. You’ll look like a fucking idiot if you have a spine like jelly. Posture. Deep breath. And— Too soon for me to prepare myself fully, the lift doors opened. I didn’t even have to knock on Leo’s door. It, too, opened all too soon. "Hey." Jesus fucking Christ. My eyes widened, trying to take all of him in at once, but... I couldn’t. My heart leapt and I had to clear my throat to give myself a few seconds’ thinking time. His just-washed hair stuck up in damp, messy spikes and he wore nothing but a pair of jeans. No shirt, no shoes. One hand held the door handle, the other leaned against the 256

doorframe at his head height. I’d never seen a man look so... "Can I come in?" My voice sounded an octave higher than normal. "Sure." He stood back to let me in; my spine rippled as I walked past him. When the door clicked shut behind us I felt... safe. I’m here now. That’s a start. "Feck off!" greeted me a second later. "What the—?" "Oh hell, I left his cover off earlier, hold on..." Leo crossed the room and pulled the cover over Hyde’s cage, lingering for a moment before turning round to face me. But staying on the other side of the room. "That’s some welcome," I commented. "Yeah. He likes to..." He rubbed his hands together, as if cold. Cold or nervous. "So...?" I studied him for a long moment, trying to decide how to tackle this. Then jumped straight in. "I left you a voicemail." "Yeah. I know." "I assumed your lack of reply meant..." I bit my lip. "Well, I thought I’d come 'round to see if..." He looked at the floor, holding his palms together as if at prayer, raising his fingertips to his lips. "Whatever you thought my lack of reply meant, you’re probably wrong. I don’t like phones. Not for conversations like we need to have." "Which is what I thought. And that’s why I’m here." "And now you’re here." "Yes. Can I—" "Were you drunk when you left that message?" "What?" "That’s part of the reason why I didn’t get back to you. Besides not liking phones. You left the message on a Saturday night. I assumed you’d been out with friends." "I had. Been out I mean. But I was stone cold sober. And I left the club early to phone you. I even left a drink to go outside and..." "It better not have been Guinness." He looked up at me through his lashes and I could have sworn there was a 257

twinkle in his eyes. Then it was gone, as if he’d forgotten himself momentarily and regained control. He’d let me into his home but that was as far as it went. "No. Smirnoff Ice." "Vodka? Oh, you can leave that shite." His hands parted and he thrust them into his jeans pockets, hunching his shoulders, tensing his pectorals. God, your tattoos—no, your skin—no, you make me weak. I chewed my thumbnail as I studied him, waiting for the right words to come to me, waiting for him to cross the room again. Or at least meet me halfway. I’d managed to get myself up to his apartment. The least he could do was cross those last few feet to meet me. "I meant what I said," I told him. "On the phone." "Oh?" Christ, you’re going to make me say it. Then courage welled up within me, and pride in what I’d done this evening. "The part about missing you." "Oh." Gimme something here, Leo. "Um. Yeah, I fucked up. With the whole... thing. Everything. I mean, the computer shop. I..." "I don’t usually punch people." "No?" I laughed nervously. "You’re pretty good at it." He caught my eye. "Sorry, I meant... anyway." I took a deep breath. "I called because I wanted to see you again." "I know. I just didn’t get back to you because I thought, when I heard the voicemail..." "No, Leo. The computer shop. That day. I called you then because I wanted to see you again." Suddenly his ceiling fascinated me. The brickwork above his fireplace. "Then why... why didn’t you say anything?" "Because I’m not the sort of person to throw herself at a guy. Crazy, as we ended up in bed so soon. I mean... I didn’t want to smother you." "So you accused me of smothering you instead?" "I did? Oh. Yes. I did." "And did I?" When I managed to lower my gaze again I saw he scowled. "Did I ever smother you?" "No." 258

"And did I ever hurt you? Physically, I mean?" "No." "Do anything you didn’t want me to do?" I jumped then; he spoke through gritted teeth, as if biting back barely contained anger. "Well? Did I?" "No." "Then perhaps you could tell me why you spoke to me like I was the one who... I was the guy... well, like shit basically?" "Because you..." "Yes?" "I spoke like that because..." "I’m waiting..." His voice went up a note at the end, dripping with sarcasm like honey from a comb. "Because you’d seen me..." "I’d seen you...?" "You’d seen me in trouble. I asked you for help, and I hated the fact I needed y— it. And you saw me vulnerable, and I hated you for it. And I wanted you to go. And I didn’t want you to go." I sniffed, fighting back tears, damn near hating him for making me do this, yet knowing I had to. "So what you’re saying is..." He took one step forward and I resisted the urge to take one back. "You treated me like dirt because you were embarrassed?" "You could say that." "Piper. That’s just... rude." "Some would say that. Others would think it was..." "What would they say?" "Okay, okay, it was rude. You helped me out at the computer shop, I was angry at Richard. I took it out on you because I hated the fact I needed your help. And I admit, I called you because it was you I wanted to see. I knew, in the back of my mind I’d get embarrassed at your being the one to see me in a vulnerable state but some sick part of me was going to use that. I hated that I longed to see you again. That’s not like me at all. So the only way I could stop myself wanting to see you is if I was too embarrassed to do so, but it didn’t work. Even after I’d shown myself up by appearing not quite perfect and actually needing someone, it didn’t work. I still missed you. And I fucked up. And I’m sorry. But 259

I... well, there it is. That’s all." I shrugged, breathless now, embarrassed again and definitely nervous. But honest. "Why..." He rolled his shoulders in an extended shrug, glancing at me, then tilting his head as if choosing his words carefully. "Why would anyone in their right mind hate wanting to see someone again?" "I would have thought that was obvious." "No." He bit his lip before speaking again. "That’s why I’m asking." "Well, someone might not like missing another person in case that other person wasn’t... um...of the same mind. I didn’t want you to come to me because I needed rescuing, Leo. I just wanted... want..." He looked me in the eye but said nothing. "I was trying to make you back off so I didn’t have to wait for you to leave. I didn’t want to get used to having you around if you weren’t going to be around for long..." "And what made you think that?" "We ended up in bed on the first date. Things like that don’t usually go anywhere, do they?" "Says who?" "Well... people..." "Piper, you don’t want to listen to people. People talk bollocks. What you want to do is ignore people and try asking me what I think for once." "Then tell me what you think." "I think if it was a one night—I mean, a weekender, let’s just say I can’t remember the last time I had that many orgasms in a forty-eight-hour period." My face burned at the memory. "I can’t remember..." Another shrug. He looked heavenward and I wondered what he pictured. "I can’t remember the last time I had that much fun with a girl, and wanted to see her again, and ended up having it all thrown back at me quite so carelessly. Like it meant nothing. I was only worth contempt, not even a glimmer of respect." "I’ve said I’m sorry, what more do you want? I didn’t know. I didn’t know any of that; you didn’t tell me." "It was never the right moment." Fuck. Bad timing. Story of your fucking life. 260

"But..." As he spoke again, my heart skipped a beat. "I’m telling you now." I turned in a half-circle, gripped the back of his settee, hung my head. Telling me what, Leo? Telling me what? "I didn’t call you back after that voicemail because I assumed it was a Saturday night, you would have had a few—" "Well you assumed wrong." "And I didn’t want you to say those things drunk." "I wasn’t drunk then, and I’m not drunk now." "And I wanted you to come to me and say them sober, face to face, and without any prompting from me." "Check. On all three counts. Done it. If you’re trying to bring me down, there’s no need. I already feel bad enough as it is." "No, I’m not." Footsteps padded behind me and his voice drew nearer. "I’m not trying to do anything. You didn’t want me to contact you out of pity? I didn’t want you to contact me out of some sense of guilt. Or obligation. Really, Piper, I just wanted to hear you say it without me having to prompt you. That’s all." Time stood still as I waited for him to say or do something. I couldn’t see what else there was for me to say or do. Leo’s fingertips brushed the inside of my elbow and my breath caught when his hand moved up, then down, stroking tentatively. "Okay, you’re going to have to turn around now. There’s something I want to say. I don’t say these things on the phone, and I’m not saying them to your back." I turned on the spot, and he didn’t move an inch. To be this close to him after what seemed like an eternity took my breath away. "When..." The hand that had stroked my elbow rested on my waist. "When my intercom went and I realized it was you, I..." He swallowed, and a second passed before he spoke again. "I was relieved. And happy. And I thought, good, you’ve come back. And it was your own decision to do so, but now you are here—" He cut himself off with a brief frown, and brought his face closer to mine. That familiar feeling of his warm breath on my face, the stubble of his jaw 261

against me. "Will you stay?" Panic rose in my throat, over what would happen if I took that risk. But, with him right in front of me, his breath on my face, the scent of his skin in my lungs and his hand on my waist, there was no risk involved, only certainty. "Yes." The word was a simple exhalation. Inevitable. "Yes, I’ll stay."

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About Scarlett Scarlett Parrish lives in the U.K. When not writing, she likes to visit the cinema, listen to music (usually 30 Seconds to Mars or John Mayer) and stay out of trouble. Two out of three ain’t bad. Some of her favorite things are chocolate, sleep and erotica novels. She doesn’t get nearly enough of any of those. Visit her blog at http://scarlettparrish.blogspot.com

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