Unsuitable

He laughed. His hands were on her back now. “I won’t take that the wrong way.”

She lifted herself and reseated. She heard his teeth clack as he clenched his jaw. He was easy, to be with, to want, to trust, but those words were stuck inside the heat of her thoughts, the vibration in her body. He rocked her forward and they groaned together. She could sense his patience fraying, in the rigidity of his muscles, in the pressure of his hands and the pace of his thrusts.

“You feel too fucking good. I gotta move, baby.”

And yet he waited till she cried her yes, bowing her body to feel more of him. He cut loose. He thrust deep and hard and fast, and all her breath rushed out as her senses took note of his monstrous capacity, his body’s capability for causing hers to shudder, to mass-produce ecstasy, have it thrum through her limbs till she was nothing but an exploding star to his universe of motion.

There were no monsters in this house that night, except the insatiable, shameless, lustful one they made together.

17: Wrecked

Reece didn’t need to look at his phone to know he had another message from Sky. He had a bunch of them he didn’t know how to answer to her satisfaction. There was no going back, especially now. He didn’t want to look at anyone except Audrey. He’d hardly slept but he wasn’t feeling it. She’d slept, and because Mia only grizzled and didn’t wake screaming, she’d had plenty. There was colour in her cheeks this morning that wasn’t the doing of hot tea and a BLT. He liked the idea he’d put it there.

He liked the idea he’d get to do it again.

Fuck, he’d wanted to be with her. Not the fricking hide and seek thing they’d had going. Tic, tac, bloody toe, slipping around each other and the fact they both wanted more. Nearly killed him to hold off and not nail that last square that’d give him a straight line to her. But she’d looked too fragile and he knew she had doubts. Unnecessary scruples. The first mover advantage thing, the whole she was his boss thing. And Mia, she worried for Mia. But Mia was fine and Audrey was better, and last night had blown the top of his head off.

She’d come into his room looking like a fantasy off the Victoria’s Secret catwalk, sophisticated and so sexy he didn’t know where to look, where to put his hands, until he got them on her. He’d never felt awkward like that before. Challenged. He’d clutched the quilt like he was scared of what was under it. He was afraid she’d see how hard his heart was beating and think he wasn’t up to it.

It got easier once she took his hand, because she looked at him with such faith he knew he would make it good for her. And she shook free in his arms, gave him every emotion she had while he pinned them together. It was the best sex he’d had sober because he lost it too, forgot himself enough to simply feel good, because it was safe to, because their minds and hearts were in it too.

It was a permission thing, he knew it. Deeper than consent, than mutual wanting. Bigger than timing and place. The curse of his size again, of preferring it slow and deep, intense and easy, nothing rough or forced. Nothing in the eyes of the woman he went with sparking fear or looking for something he didn’t want to give. Audrey gave him permission to be himself and they exercised the trust they’d built over Mia on the bed.

There’d have been more exercise, Olympic proportions of it, if he’d known it was going to happen. One condom. Shit. And not in the best nick, slightly tacky to touch. If he’d been prepared he’d have picked a fresher one. Talk about unprepared. No, not unprepared so much as not setting things up to fail.

Audrey said it was once and there was every possibility she’d want to rewind, go back to before she got sick and they’d started messing with each other’s heads. Though how that was going to work was as mysterious as whatever the hell Polly was up to—correction, who-ever the hell Polly was up to, and rebooting was as much of a no-go as stopping things now.

They weren’t stopping. It wasn’t one night.

This morning Audrey couldn’t even pretend she thought that was a solid idea. She watched him like she could see through his clothes; it made his skin prickle, it made him hard and he fucking loved it. She’d never looked at him like this before. Never so wickedly greedy. If the Mia juggernaut didn’t have to roll on schedule it wouldn’t only be eye-fucking they’d do over the breakfast counter.

The look on her face. He could guess what she was thinking. She knew she’d got him in a state.

“I thought I’d come to playgroup with you. Say hello to everyone.”

She was dressed in yoga pants and a zippered jacket. He’d left her sleeping while he corralled Mia and made breakfast. “I thought I could go for a walk, start building my strength before I go back to work.” She licked her lips. “Don’t look at me like that.”

What? Like he wanted to make her his main meal for the day?

“Mum, when I brush my teeth blood comes out.”

She didn’t break eye contact. “Does it, Marvellous?”

Neither did he. “Brush gently, Mia.”

Audrey’s cheeks pinked on the word gently. God, she looked gorgeous this morning with that flush of health, that hot shot of wanting sex in her eyes. Fuck playgroup. Maybe he could dump Mia on Carrie and Junna and sneak off with Audrey for an hour. Yeah, that wouldn’t look suspicious. Much. Not that he cared. He wanted to put it on a billboard, hire a skywriter, but she might want to be more circumspect.

“About last night,” he started. Good to get it out and clear.

“No monsters came last night,” said Mia.

“I chased them all away,” he said, eyes on Audrey.

“You certainly did,” she said. She brushed a finger over her lips. “No monsters left in this house.”

Unless you counted the one they’d made last night, a monstrous new desire to get naked and eat each other up. He closed the dishwasher drawer. “Are we going to talk?”

“I was talking,” said Mia. “Listen to me.”