Never Enough

  It was only with the greatest of concentration that he was able to get the condom on. “I want you from behind.”

  She got up from where she’d relaxed after tossing him the rubber. And then she turned around and he nearly lost his mind at the sight of the bounty before him.

  Not wasting another moment, he moved to her, licking up the line of her spine, delighted by the way she moaned and arched into him. Lining up, he nudged her open, shocked at how hot and wet she was as she enveloped him, bit by bit, as he sank into her cunt.

  He exhaled long and hard, concentrating to keep from coming. She felt so fucking good. Then she pushed back, taking him those last few inches and they both gasped and sighed.

  “Yeah, right there.” He ran hands over the curves of each side, over the flesh of that magnificent ass.

  Every inch of his skin was hypersensitive as he dragged himself nearly all the way out of that heated inferno and then pushed back in.

  Her hands fisted in the blanket and the strangled little sounds she made, especially that she was trying to keep them quiet, only made him hotter.

  She clutched with her inner muscles as he gave in and grabbed those hips, sinking his fingers into her flesh and holding on as he began to fuck her hard and deep.

  He was already close. His emotions raw, his feelings so very near the surface. Having been teased by her scent and her manner all evening long, and driven nearly senseless by her mouth on his cock, her taste on his mouth, he was holding on by his metaphorical fingertips.

  And that was before she began to thrust back at him, swiveling.

  He snarled and she laughed.

  It was that laugh he found so ridiculously hot. The way she knew she was tormenting him and loving it.

  “I’ll get even for that one,” he muttered as he increased his pace, the pleasure rushing through him so hard and fast it nearly hurt.

  “Promise?”

  That was it, that last little push and he fell hard into climax. He came so hard he saw stars and his thigh muscles jumped as he nearly yelled out at how good he felt.

  “Christ,” he hissed as he pulled out, after he’d gotten his breath back, bereft at the loss of that snug heat. Managing to lever off the bed, he stumbled into the bathroom to get rid of the condom, pausing in the doorway to watch her on her bed on his way back.

  He liked Gillian. A lot.

  He really liked the way you dug down a bit and found a whole other side, a filthy-talking woman who loved sex.

  “I’m pretty sure my teeth are numb.”

  She laughed, sitting up to take a sip of her wine.

  “Don’t get too comfortable, we have hours until Miles wakes up, right? Lots of time for us to get a few more rounds in.” He waggled his brows.

  “Miles used to be up before the sun.”

  He settled in beside her, sated for the moment, but hungry for details of his son.

  “Tell me about him.”

  “He’d get up at five and build giant Lego cities that would span several rooms. He made machines with moving parts, houses, businesses, fortresses. He’d have these intricate stories about each place and each thing, each person who owned or used it.

  “When I’d give lessons, he’d sit just outside the room and color for the entire time I was working. And then when my student had left, we’d have a snack I let him help me make.”

  “Is he a good cook?”

  She laughed. “Not at all. But we still try.” When she smiled, a dimple hollowed and called to his mouth. He leaned in and kissed it.

  He swallowed her soft sigh, liking the way she felt against his body, loving her taste.

  The kiss was lazy and soft. The kiss of two people who knew there’d be more later so it could afford to meander and play. He broke away, unable not to smile at her.

  “Tell me more.”

  “We found the bass guitar at a garage sale. He had some money saved up from birthdays and chores. A friend of ours knew enough to teach Miles some basic chords. I traded piano lessons for guitar lessons and after several months he didn’t need them anymore. He’d watch a music video and have the song down.”

  “I was like that.” Pride warmed his belly.

  “I’m not surprised.” She smiled and he picked up a long strand of her hair, playing as she spoke. “Of course he got older and he stopped waking up so early. I remember falling into bed at night and praying he’d just give me until six thirty. Now I have to turn on his light, put the music very loud and yank the blankets off to get him up for school.”

  “He’s shy.”

  She nodded. “He’s Miles. He’s different and that’s hard. It’s hard to be different and to wear your heart on your sleeve when other boys aren’t that way. He’s not sporty. He’s not popular. He’s a sweet boy most people like because how can you not? He’s generous and compassionate, gracious, silly, old-fashioned in many ways.”

  She saw him so clearly, and that went straight to his heart. “He’s lucky to have a mom like you. Some parents would try to shove him into a role to make things easier.”

  “You can’t make yourself be anything but who you are. He’s got friends. He has his band. He’s got music and now there are a few girls sniffing around at school events. I’m not entirely sure he notices really.”

  “He will soon enough. After they start getting boobs.”

  She turned to face him. “Ah is that when you noticed them? When they got boobs?”

  “Boobs are one of God’s finest creations, Gillian. Don’t mock. Yours are spectacular and singular specimens, by the way.”

  “Whatever. They’re lovely and all. Who doesn’t like to see a nice pair of tits?” Gillian groaned. “I can’t believe how fast this is all happening. He was just taking his first steps and now he’s going to be looking at boobs. I feel totally unprepared for that stuff.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t around before.” The bitterness of it still burned in his gut. The years of Miles’s life Adrian totally lost.

  “It wasn’t your choice. Anyway, I figure you can get some basic training in and then I’m going to turn over the sex talks from now on. I have no penis, as you may have noticed, so the recent discussions were harder. Since you have one, you’re more qualified.”

  What a completely odd conversation to be having after a scorching-hot sex session. And yet, it felt—for want of a better word—normal. Natural.

  “He doesn’t have any men in his life?” On one hand, he wanted her to say no. Didn’t want to have to come out from the shadow of anyone else. But on the other, he hoped Miles had had male role models because it would be better for him.

  “Cal and Ryan have been in his life since he was about six months old, actually. They live up the road a ways. Or they did. But I see them both all the time and Ryan teaches at the middle school. Cal’s my attorney.”

  Something less than pleasant slid through his gut. “What about dating?”

  One of her brows rose imperiously. “I don’t think Miles should date until he’s fifteen and then in groups.”

  Blasted woman was going to make him say it?

  “Ha-ha. I mean you. Do you date around? Anything serious?”

  “I date from time to time. The man has to be very special for a number of reasons.”

  And she left it at that, which made him crazy. But he’d find out those reasons soon enough. For the time being, she was his and that’s all that mattered.

  And in a lot of ways, this sort of quiet thing they were building here was like a sweet secret. He liked that.

  He took the wineglass from her fingers and put it down. “We’ve got two more condoms. I think we should use all our resources.”

  He rolled on top of her and her legs wrapped around him, bringing him right up against her cunt.

  “I hope you don’t need a lot of sleep to get through your day.”

  10

  “Can you show me one more time?”

  Gillian nodded as she scooted over on the bench to play. “Rac
h-maninoff comes from here.” She placed a palm over her belly. “It might be different for you. But if you want to play him, you have to find a way to translate all that power. You can hit all the correct keys in the correct order and still, if you don’t feel it, it’s going to sound cold and perfunctory.”

  “Do you think I should play a different piece for the audition?” Shannon, one of her advanced students asked, clearly nervous.

  “I think you have all the talent you need to play this piece. It’s not as technically difficult as some other pieces you could use. But the key is your spin, your interpretation, and that means you have to feel it.”

  “If you say so. You make it look easy.”

  Gillian laughed. “I have been playing piano longer than you’ve been alive. At Juilliard I played this piece for hours every single day. I’d better make it look easy.”

  Shannon moved off the bench. “I’ll watch from here.”

  Smiling, Gillian centered herself, slid her fingertips over the keys and found that place inside, opening herself up to it. And began to play.

  The start—slow to draw the notes, to paint with the sound. As she played and changed her pace, faster and faster, the music had consumed her. The piece ebbed and flowed, boiled over and wisped away like smoke. She let it lead her, ceased thinking and gave the music free rein.

  When she’d finished, she opened her eyes to Shannon’s wild applause.

  “I don’t know if I can ever play it like you.”

  “Play it like you; that’ll be better.”

  After the lesson ended, she put on Florence + the Machine, smiling as she headed into her room to change for a client meeting she needed to be at in less than an hour.

  Hopping to it as she hummed to “Dog Days Are Over,” she found the skirt she’d been looking for and paired it with a twinset in pale lavender. Cashmere.

  She didn’t have a lot of clothes. Always when she was confronted with something for herself it was hard to make that choice instead of something for the house or for Miles. So she had a few very nice pieces she found on sale racks and thrift store shelves and filled in with other, less expensive items.

  She’d clawed her way to where she was now and had no plan to ever go back to a place in her life where she was grateful for scraps and wore shite and pretended it was queen’s robes.

  No one would think her naff or poor to look at her now. No one would wonder how quickly they could get her on her back. She was not in anyone’s shadow, not judged against them because she’d made herself into something more than she’d been as a kid in England.

  Brushing her fingertips over the sweater, she carefully pulled it from the hanger and put it on her bed as she moved through the room.

  She looked at herself in the mirror as she secured her hair. Then her gaze was drawn to the marks on her hips, a slice of which she saw above the top of her knickers. Pale bruises where Adrian’s fingers had dug in while they fucked.

  A delightful shiver surfaced as she slid the skirt up and zipped it. The man had sex like he meant it. He didn’t handle her like she was fragile. He was base and dirty and she was right chuffed to have had him in her bed.

  She’d been more forward than she’d ever been the first time she had sex with someone. One of the reasons she never had casual sex with anyone was that she wanted to trust her partner enough to let the carnal side of herself show.

  She wasn’t Tina, or their mother, but she liked sex. She liked it hard and rough and with a side of dirty talk. There were myriad things she’d apologize for in her life, but liking sex wasn’t one of them. It was part of who she was, and as long as she kept it where it was meant to be, her private business, she had nothing to be ashamed of.

  Still, a flush warmed her neck and chest at the memories of the things she’d said and done, at the things he’d said and done to her. She couldn’t regret it. Sex with Adrian Brown had been everything she thought it might be. Three times over. He did have a lot of stamina, a very fine quality when coupled with a sensual imagination, tireless and never-ending.

  She’d enjoyed herself very much. Enough to not be embarrassed at her own rawness. Enough to hope it might happen again, though she steeled herself to accept it probably wouldn’t. Things were complicated, she knew. Hell, she felt it all too.

  Things had shifted in the week since he’d first come to dinner. He called every day to talk to Miles. Adrian had to make a quick midweek trip to Los Angeles, and when he was in California, he and Miles managed to do face time via their phones.

  Miles seemed more confident, even if in need of a little more reassurance and love from Mum to let him know that though things had changed, some things never would. His mum would always love him. Nothing would ever change that.

  Even if Adrian Brown hadn’t totally turned their lives upside down with his presence. Easy. Laid back. Sexy. He had a quiet confidence about him, a sort of unruffled and unmistakable air that he knew what he was about and if it needed handling, it would be handled.

  And he appeared to be smack-dab in love with Miles, which only made him about eighty billion times more attractive to her.

  She slid her shoes on, smoothed her sweater, adjusted her glasses and blotted her lipstick, and upon consideration in her mirror, approved mightily. This new client was a sizable one. If she landed the job, it would mean she could get the car fixed without having to tap into her savings and even be able to tip quite a bit into Miles’s college plan as well.

  Portfolio in hand, she headed out the door and toward Tart, where her informal coffee meeting was to take place.

  Jules looked up and grinned when Gillian came in. “Hey, you. All ready for the meeting? I’ve got you a table over in the corner. Away from traffic so you won’t be bothered. Plus the light there is marvelous. You’ll look even better, if that’s actually possible.”

  Gillian had walked around with a perpetual blush at Jules’s manner when they’d first become friends. By that point, she knew Jules didn’t make compliments lightly and if she said it, it was true.

  “Always watching out for my best interests. I’m a little early.”

  “No shit. My darling woman, you are beyond punctual. If you were ever late, I’d worry. Go sit. I’ve got a pot of Earl Grey steeping. I’ll bring it and we can chat a while before he arrives.” Jules waved her away, rolling her eyes and Gillian headed to the table her friend had indicated.

  Tart had belonged to Jules’s parents. They’d run it as a small café for several decades. Until Jules’s father came home one day and announced to them all at a family birthday dinner that he was leaving Suzy for the just barely adult girl who’d lived a few doors down.

  Suzy had made him sign over the café and then had given it to Jules and left for a yearlong trip around the world with friends.

  And Jules had made the café into Tart. Sensual. Beautiful tarts, pastry and pie. Tart was one of Gillian’s home places. A sanctuary from all the bad things outside. Being situated where it was also made the location convenient for business meetings.

  Jules was, as Cal Whaley said, a long, tall drink of water. Bright and lightning quick, her pale hair and brilliant blue eyes were a contrast with Gillian’s darker looks. But the two shared a friendship deeper than anything she’d had with anyone other than Miles and her gran.

  “Here.” Jules put down a pot of tea and two mugs. She returned shortly with a cup of coffee for herself and shoved a slice of persimmon tart Gillian’s way. “Eat it. I know you probably haven’t eaten all day. Don’t want to bottom out on energy during this meeting.”

  They chatted idly until her client-to-be showed up, and when she left an hour later, she headed straight to the bank and then dropped her car off at the shop, and even got a ride home from the mechanic whose son she gave piano lessons to twice a week.

  She hoped his gratitude at how far his son had come in the last six months would merit her a discount, but took the ride thankful either way.

  And who should be on her doorst
ep but Adrian Brown, looking every bit like a sexy-tousled rock star even when he wasn’t wearing anything more posh than jeans and a fisherman’s sweater.

  “I suppose you’ll need a key,” she called out as she headed up the walk, pleased to see him. “Miles will be thrilled you’re here. You’ll be staying for dinner?”

  He took her portfolio when he met her at the bottom of the steps and surprised her with a kiss. Nothing salacious, but it was more than a friendly peck.

  “Hey. Where’s your car?” He looked around.

  “At the shop.” She unlocked the door and went inside, heading straight to the heat to turn it on. “What brings you here today?”

  “I wanted to see Miles and you said I should feel welcome to come by.”

  She handed him a key on a small fob bearing a plastic image of a vintage woman holding a cup of coffee and a slice of tart. When Jules had first opened her doors, all her friends got together and presented them to her as promotional items for the shop.

  “Here. This way you won’t have to wait in the cold if I’m out. Would you like some tea?” She began to move around, turning on the stove to heat the water, grabbing the teapot and mugs, measuring out tea. “Miles won’t be out of school for a few hours.”

  “I know. I mean, I know Miles won’t be back until two forty-five. He told me.” Adrian’s smile was sweetly charmed; it stripped her reserve away. He held the key up. “Thank you. I appreciate the gesture. Knowing I could come here today and see him, knowing you’d welcome me . . .” He paused, watching the way she put out placemats and then the cups and tea.

  “Sit. Of course you’re welcome. This is your son’s house and so that means the door is open to you.” She poured out, enjoying the smoky sweet scent of the tea. “It’s jasmine green tea. Low on the caffeine. Miles was over the moon every time you called. I wanted to be sure I told you because of course he’s not a very chatty phone person and I didn’t want you to think he wasn’t pleased.”

  “Thank you for that. For being our mediator of sorts as he and I try to figure out our relationship. It’s a big help for both of us.”