When I delve my tongue into Ben’s mouth, he picks me up, making me wrap my legs around his waist. He walks me to the sofa and places me down before positioning himself on top.
“Fuck me. You taste incredible,” he says against my lips. He starts kissing the base of my neck as our hands explore each other. “Please, tell me to stop,” he says, grabbing my breast and kneading, making me arch my back on a moan.
“Don’t stop.”
It’s like I don’t know my own voice. It’s me speaking, but not me. I haven’t had sex in over a year, and normally wouldn’t with someone I’ve barely known twenty-four hours.
He starts unbuttoning my shirt. I keep waiting for the moment I tell him to stop. That it’s too soon. That I’m not that type of girl. But with each button, fresh need arises inside me.
“You’re so beautiful,” Ben says, kissing his way up from my neck to my mouth.
When my phone rings, Ben groans and starts to get off me so I can answer it. I pull him back down. “Ignore it. Whoever it is can wait.” He’s soon kissing me again, pressing his hardness against my core.
I start yanking at his shirt. Once I manage to pull it over his head, I’m faced with a toned, tattooed man. I trail my fingers along the lines of an eagle’s wing on his chest. My phone continues to ring, but it’s like I’m no longer here.
Leaning forward, I start to kiss around his chest as he snakes his fingers through my hair. I nibble his soft skin, making him moan, sending waves of need straight into me.
He unbuttons my jeans and places his hand inside me. I moan.
“You’re so fucking wet.”
“That’s because I need you,” I say against his mouth.
He pulls away and yanks my jeans down, exposing my white lace knickers.
“I tried to imagine how you would look, but nothing compares to the real thing.”
He bends down and kisses my stomach before trailing his lips up to my breasts. He pulls one out and starts suckling on my nipple, his hand moving down into my knickers. His thick finger pushes inside me, making me moan. Heat instantly flushes my face. I have never before felt a dire need to have sex with someone.
“Oh god!” I scream as his finger moves in and out of me.
I hear a loud banging noise, but it doesn’t register what it is at first. It must not with Ben, either, because he doesn’t stop.
Bang, bang, bang!
It’s louder this time. Groaning, Ben gets off. “I’m sorry about this,” I say, wrapping his shirt around me. “Go to the bedroom. I’ll meet you there once I’ve gotten rid of whoever it is.”
Ben nods, bending down to pick up his shoes.
Bang, bang, bang!
“I’m coming!” I shout. I turn to Ben. “It’s the first door on the left.” Once he disappears, I walk to the door. When I look through the peephole, I see Devon standing there.
I bite back a sigh as I open the door. When he takes in my state of undress, his eyes widen before looking past me.
“Who’s here?” he asks, his words laced with anger.
“No one.”
He points to me. “Then why are you dressed like that? And, more importantly, why does your hair look like it’s been dragged through a hedge backward?” Before I can answer, he pushes his way in.
“Hey, you can’t just barge in here.”
He looks around the place briefly before looking back at me. “You weren’t answering your phone.”
“I was busy.”
“Doing what?”
I place one hand on my hip. “Myself.”
He blinks. “Come again?”
“You really want to know what I was doing? I felt horny and started playing with myself. I was kind of in the middle of it all when you started beating on my door. Sorry about that.”
I can’t believe I just said that to my boss.
For the first time ever, Devon doesn’t seem to know where to look. I don’t think I do either. Finally, he manages to compose himself.
“The police rang me. They found a bag behind a dumpster. It has an empty purse in it, but they want to know if it’s yours. I told them I would take you down to look at it.”
Hope rises inside me. “Did they say if the photo was in there?”
“No, but they want to speak with you.”
“Okay. Can you give me five minutes to get ready?” I ask, remembering I have Ben in my bedroom.
Devon simply nods. I grab my jeans and head for my room. Ben is nearly dressed by the time I rush in and shut my door—minus his shirt, of course.
He smirks when he spots me. “You look great in my shirt.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, sitting on the bed next to him.
He shrugs. “It’s okay. I think I got the gist. I really hope you find what you’re looking for.” He leans over and kisses the top of my head.
“Thank you.” I grab his hand. “For what it’s worth, I would have gone all the way with you.”
He squeezes my hand, smiling. “For what it’s worth, I would have enjoyed every single second of it.”
I look into his light blue eyes. “Maybe in another life, huh?”
He nods. “I should go see my sister anyway.”
I pull my jeans on, take Ben’s shirt off, throw on an off-the-shoulder top and then brush my hair. I tie it up and turn to him. “Do you mind staying here a few seconds after we leave? I don’t care if he sees you, but I just know Devon will take great delight in telling my brother you were here.”
Getting up from my bed, he stalks toward me and kisses me on the mouth. “Text me when you’re done at the station. I’d like to know how you got on.”
With a nod, I kiss him quickly and walk toward my door. “Bye,” I whisper before leaving.
Once I shut the door, a sense of sadness washes over me. I don’t know if I’ll see Ben again, but something tells me I won’t. Maybe I should be glad we didn’t have sex. However, for some reason, the relief doesn’t come.
“Are you ready?” Devon asks, looking at me from the front room.
I nod. “Yes.”
I walked out of the station bitterly disappointed. It wasn’t my bag. Instead of getting emotional about it, I went straight home where Devon not only criticised me about the key situation, but hired an emergency locksmith as well. Within two hours, I had new locks, and Devon had gone home. I then texted Ben to let him know how I got on. He texted back, seeming genuinely disappointed for me.
Maybe in another life.
Now, with it being Sunday, I’m currently at my dad’s house cooking his favourite roast chicken dinner. In the middle of preparing everything, I start flicking through some songs to keep me company while my dad watches football. I like to listen to music as I cook.
In the middle of searching, I hear my dad say, “Go back one.”
Startled, I look up at him, smile, and then go back to Michael Bublé’s version of “The Way You Look Tonight.”
“This one?” I ask.
He nods. “Yes. It was one of your mum’s favourites.” Walking over to me, he takes my hand and starts twirling me around the kitchen. I can’t help but laugh. “Your mother loved to dance, especially to Bublé.”
I smirk as we parade around the kitchen. “I remember. I also remember you getting quite jealous about that.”
His eyes glisten, as if remembering those days. “Yes, but you can’t blame a man who was married to the most beautiful woman in the world—next to you, of course.”
I giggle. “You’re such a charmer, Dad.”
“Is it any wonder she married me?”
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
My dad gives me one final twirl before I stop and curtsy. “Thank you for the dance.”
My dad bows. “It was my pleasure.” He looks at the food I’m preparing. “It all smells wonderful. I hope you’ve made enough because we have a last-minute guest.” I open my mouth as the doorbell rings. “That should be your brother.”
My dad quickly dis
appears, leaving me wondering who the extra guest could be. At the thought it could be another woman, my stomach twists. I don’t think I can handle him seeing another woman so soon after my mum. I know it’s been almost three years, but she’s my mum. She will always come first.
I hear laughter at the door, and I frown at the same time as my phone chimes. When I light it up, my frown suddenly turns into a smile.
I’m in love with your body. ;)
Knowing he remembers Ed Sheeran playing on the radio yesterday morning, I type back:
My sheets smell like you. ;)
I wish mine smelled like you. Instead, they smell of sweat and alcohol from the night before.
I screw my nose up before responding.
Did you at least have a good night?
Yes, but it would have been miles better if it had been with you. xx
I bite my lip, trying to suppress a smile. I start to type back, then hear, “So, how’s my little sister today?”
I jump, dropping my phone on the counter.
“Whoa, what’s wrong? Who were you texting?”
Grabbing my phone, I lock it before placing it in my back pocket. “No one,” I quip. “How are you?” I walk toward him, noticing that his shiner still looks sore and give him a hug.
He gives me that brotherly squeeze which always makes me close my eyes and then pulls away. “I’m fine. I’m looking forward to this meal, Andi Pandy. It’s been a while since I had some of your cooking.”
Remembering the guest, I lean in to ask, but my father appears. “Want a beer, son?”
“Thanks, Dad. That’ll be great.”
Dad looks at me. “Do you need a top-up yet?”
I look over at my wine glass, which is still half full, and shake my head. “No, I’m fine.” I start poking at the potatoes to see if they’re parboiled yet.
“So, how was your night last night?” Dad asks Charlie.
“It was good, thanks. More than good.”
I roll my eyes. I know exactly what that means.
I hear Dad pat him on the back. “When you didn’t come home last night, I thought as much. I don’t mind it, son, but be careful.”
“I always am.”
I huff. “Can you two take your sex talk elsewhere? I’m trying to cook.”
“Dad, maybe it’s time you had ‘the talk’ with Andi.”
Turning around, I flick a dishcloth in his direction. “Charlie, stop it!” He starts laughing, setting my dad off. Then the doorbell rings again.
“Ah,” my father says, “our extra guest.” Dad soon disappears, giving me the opportunity to walk up to Charlie.
I lean in, whispering, “Who is it?” I don’t need to wait for an answer to know. I would recognise that voice anywhere. “You invited Devon? Isn’t it enough I see him during the week? Now you subject me to him on the weekend, too?”
Pouting, Charlie throws an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t be like that. I don’t get to see him that often.”
My expression softens and then the guilt comes. No doubt Charlie will be going back to Germany in the next three weeks or so. “Sorry. I sound selfish.”
He squeezes me to him. “You could never be selfish, Andi Pandy.”
This time, I do hit him with my dishcloth. “Will you stop calling me that?!” I flick it at him repeatedly, but Charlie starts to tickle me. I’m laughing so hard that I don’t realise Dad and Devon are standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Guys, keep it down. We have a guest.”
Charlie stops tickling me as my eyes lock on Devon. I don’t relish the thought that he’s here, but I would take him over a woman any day.
With a sweep of my eyes, I notice he’s going casual today. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, which shows off his tattoos from his RAF days, and low-cut jeans, which ride on his hips perfectly. His hair is gelled and spiked in his usual way, and his eyes foretell mischief. I don’t want them to, but my loins wake up.
God, I’m such a slut.
“Fancy a beer?” Dad asks.
Devon takes his eyes from me and looks at my dad. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”
Charlie walks up to Devon and gives him a man hug. “How are you, mate? Did you have a good weekend so far?”
Devon eyes me before looking back at Charlie. I turn around to carry on with dinner, but mostly because I need an excuse not to look at him.
“It was great. Three last night.”
Knowing what he’s talking about, I inwardly groan.
I hear a slap on his back. “You old dog. How the fuck do you do it?”
“It’s amazing how much money, power, and planes talk. Once they know I fly, they’re putty in my hands.”
Taking the chicken out of the oven, I slam the door more forcefully than necessary. I really don’t want to hear this shit.
As if knowing I’m pissed, Charlie says, “Do you fancy taking this outside? I don’t think Andi wants to listen.”
I turn around. “Yeah, that would be nice. Thanks.” I offer a sarcastic smile, catching a smirk on Devon’s face. As soon as they’ve gone, I mutter, “Jerk.”
“What’s that?”
I jump, but see it’s Dad. “Nothing. Just Charlie and Devon being the same old, same old.”
My dad smiles. “Those two always were stuck like glue.” He shakes his head. “You know, your mother was the only other person who knew this, but that boy,” he points out the kitchen window, and I look into the garden, seeing them both laughing, “was always around here more than he was at home. It got me thinking. I’m pretty sure something was going on. He always had more bruises than I’ve ever seen on anyone. I would ask, but he’d say he’d had scraps with his brother. But I tell ya,” he says, sighing again and shaking his head, “something more was going on at home than he let on. Pete started doing drugs and disappeared. Then, Devon left to join the RAF. Sometimes, I wonder: If I had called someone to help, would things have been different?”
I think back to those times. I remember Devon sometimes being dirty, like he hadn’t showered in a while. He was always bruised. At the age of seven or eight, I just thought he had been getting into fights. Thinking about it now, I wonder if something else was going on. It would explain Devon’s sometimes erratic behaviour and why his brother, Pete, started doing drugs.
“You had no way of knowing, Dad, so don’t blame yourself.”
He shrugs, but still looks sad as he watches the guys talking. “I know, but as parents, you never know whether you’re doing the right thing by your children, or by anyone in a vulnerable situation.”
I baste the potatoes. Once loaded back in the oven, I turn to him. “You and Mum did fine with me and Charlie. I can definitely vouch for that.”
He offers me a heart-warming smile. “And with meals like that,” he says, pointing to the oven, “you’ll knock some lucky guy’s socks off.”
I laugh. “No chance of that happening with Tweedledum and Tweedledee over there.” I point at them chatting in the garden.
“Ah, they’re just looking out for you. That’s all. You’re beautiful, kind, funny, and sweet. They just want what’s best for you.”
I think about it. I’m sure Devon doesn’t feel any of those things for me. He just gets off on being wingman to my brother’s overprotectiveness.
I feel a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll be in the front room.” He squeezes my shoulders and smiles before walking out.
When I turn back to watch Charlie and Devon in the garden, I think about what Dad said. Devon’s never mentioned it, nor would I expect him to, but if he were being abused, I have sympathy for him. I know what he would say. “I don’t want your pity.” If it were me, I wouldn’t want it, either. I still feel it, though. Who wouldn’t?
As if Devon knows I’m watching, he turns his head. There it is again. That one look he gives that makes my knees knock and my heart skip. For a moment, neither of us looks away. It’s almost as if we’re daring the other to break first. But I couldn’t look
away even if I wanted to. It’s his eyes. They do it to me every time. I can’t help but weaken and succumb to their call.
Charlie punches him in the arm, making Devon look away first. He laughs at something Charlie says before looking back at me briefly. I have to look away; otherwise, I’ll be under that bewitching spell of his.
This dinner’s not going to cook itself.
About an hour later, all is ready. Once seated, I spread my napkin over my lap and smile at everyone.
“Looks delicious,” Dad says, Charlie and Devon murmuring their agreement. He holds out his hand. “Let’s say grace.”
I smile, take his hand, and look over at Devon. I have no other choice but to take his hand. I’m not sure if I welcome it or not. He hesitates slightly, but it’s soon gone as his soft, warm hand envelopes mine. I try not to look at him, but I need to see if he’s looking at me. He is.
My father clears his throat, making Devon close his eyes. I notice my dad and Charlie have closed theirs, so I do, too.
“For what we’re about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful.”
As we say Amen collectively, I feel Devon’s thumb sweep over my hand, making me jump with a gasp.
“Are you okay?” Dad asks.
“I’m fine,” I say, looking at Devon in confusion. He’s smirking. I quickly avert my eyes back to my dad. “I thought I felt something crawl up my leg.” I try pulling my hand away from Devon, but he grips it tightly. He’s still smirking, the arrogant little prick. I finally manage to get my hand back and proceed to wipe at my legs, as if trying to get rid of the non-existent spider. I laugh nervously. “I think it was a false alarm.” I look back at Devon and glare at him. I’m glad he finds it funny.
As we tuck in, I notice Dad staring at me and Charlie. “What is it, Dad?” I ask in between bites.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head—a tear in his eye. “I just think your mum would be so proud if she were to see you two now.”
Charlie and I look at each other with a smile and then Dad says, “So, Devon,” he looks up from his meal, “I hear you’re whisking my daughter off to New York soon.”
Devon places his fork down for a moment before nodding. “That’s right. I think I can get a good deal out there. I’ve always wanted to branch out to the States, and the timing with Sutherland Airlines couldn’t be more perfect.”