Enemies with Benefits, page 11
Wow indeed.
Because that had never happened before.
And he sure as hell didn’t know what to do about it.
But now, now that he’d taken the one thing she’d kept only for herself for the past eight years—her body, her sensuality, and a huge serving of trust that he’d treat it carefully—what the hell could he give her back?
Not what she needed. Not what she wanted or deserved.
Her curls grazed his nose as she snuggled deeper across his chest. She fitted just perfectly in the crook of his arm, long, lithe limbs entwined with his. Her heartbeat raged against his ribcage. He was still inside her. Didn’t want to withdraw. Didn’t want to let go. Didn’t want to end this. But it was the only right thing to do—because if he didn’t she’d get too involved. No one could do what they just had and not feel something.
Too much something. It felt weird, foreign. Comfortable and uncomfortable. Threatening the status quo that he’d worked so hard to establish. Man, he was okay on his own. He liked it. He didn’t have to answer to anyone. Didn’t have to care.
And he was starting to do just that with Poppy. Cared whether he hurt her. Cared who she had slept with—and what that had done to her. Cared. Period.
So he needed to get the hell out. Trouble was, it was his room. Their apartment. How could he leave?
Hell, he’d done it many times before—he didn’t need geography to forge a distance.
He wriggled backwards, withdrawing, watching her sharp intake of breath as she curled her legs up. ‘Sorry. Sore?’
She winced. ‘Yes. But in a good way. Don’t worry, I think I’ll be ready again soon.’
‘Whoa. Steady.’ He smoothed her hair down because he needed to touch her, to keep some contact with her despite what he was going to say. ‘Look, I think we need—’
‘A moment? Yes. Just one moment. To catch our breath.’ Her smile was wicked and made him hard at the thought of her being ready for him again. Wanting him again. But it would hurt to do it again so soon. He didn’t want to hurt her.
He’d thought he could do this. There was so much he could teach her: how to touch him, what turned him on, how to touch herself. How to tease, how to take the lead. How to submit to pure pleasure. What to say. How to prolong the ecstasy. Games they could play. Toys they could use.
Could. But wouldn’t. The enormity of the mistake they’d just made shook through him. He should have known: Poppy was different. And now he was different, too.
‘No. Poppy—’
‘Then you can show me a few more things … because I don’t feel as if my education is anywhere near complete. First, I want to taste you …’
He didn’t think she meant his mouth. A groan escaped his throat. He was fighting. Losing, but fighting. Was there no end to the feelings she instilled in him?
Before he could answer she kissed him again. Gentle at first, but when she slipped her tongue into his mouth and writhed against him he was gone. Again. Lost in the experience of her. His brain was working overtime trying to find all the reasons why they shouldn’t do this, but his body knew exactly what he wanted.
Her.
CHAPTER TEN
POPPY WOKE FROM her exhaustion-induced half-sleep to a noise. Somewhere out in the lounge. A scuffle or a scratching.
The mouse trap?
‘Isaac,’ she whispered, trying to squint at the green display on his digital clock. Everywhere and everything ached. Not just muscles. Parts of her that hadn’t been stretched or even touched in such a long time. Her lips were sore from his kisses. Her chin raw from his stubble. A delicious raw. A want more raw. Although walking might well be a problem tomorrow. She stifled a smile. She felt well and truly spent. A wicked, wild woman.
The clock came into focus. Four-thirty-eight. ‘Isaac.’
‘Again already? Do you never sleep?’ Isaac’s voice was thick and deep and husky; his hand slid across her stomach as he nuzzled against her head.
Sleep? She’d managed what? Thirty-odd minutes. ‘I’m a doctor—I get by on many hours without sleep. Whole weekends with not one moment of shut-eye. Think you’ve got the stamina for that?’
He grinned, eyes still closed. ‘Hmm.’
‘Listen … did you hear that? A scratching or something. A noise, in the lounge.’
‘Maybe little Mickey has come back?’ His mouth was on her nipple now; her gut clenched as heat shimmered through her. Glorious heat. A glorious night of lovemaking, of discovery. Most noticeably, that Isaac was a very attentive and patient lover who gave more pleasure than he received.
She didn’t want to leave him, but just like the last time she’d responded to the mousetrap noise she couldn’t help satisfy her curiosity. Make sure the darned thing had been caught and wasn’t making merry with her Christmas baubles … the couch … her food.
And, yes, she had to admit she had fallen just a little bit in love with her four-legged flatmate and had been quite sad to release him into Holland Park’s long grass after all. ‘Maybe he’s homesick. Maybe he’s scurried all this way back home. Shall we go see?’
‘Sure. Tomorrow. Later.’
‘Now. Come on.’ Reluctantly dragging herself away from Isaac’s lips, she pulled back the covers and tugged at his hand. The curtainless window shed fingers of moonlight over his beautiful body. And for a second she was pinned to the spot just looking at him. The broad shoulders that had held his weight as he’d entered her, the hair she’d spiked her fingers through. The delicious dip where his back curved into his backside, the soft downy hair just there where she’d kissed, before she’d turned him over and taken him full into her mouth.
And suddenly she wanted to do it again. And again. To crawl back in beside him and let him enter her, to place her fingers on herself and have him watch. To watch him draw slow strokes up his erection. Watch him lose control. There was so much she wanted to do with him. To him.
She had, what? Twenty-nine days left, according to his record—if not less. A brief affair. A holiday fling—the kind of thing her friends had done once upon a time, while she’d spurned any male advances. Not any longer.
But twenty-nine days meant twenty-nine nights, too.
Her stomach tightened at the thought.
She blew out a slow breath. She’d known what she was getting into. Known he wasn’t offering her any more than sex. And it had seemed enough last night. An hour ago even. Now, however, she wasn’t so sure. And it wasn’t as if she could share this delicious secret with anyone, talk things over, or have a girly chat … Her friends would have a fit if they knew what she was doing. Isaac came with a pretty bad reputation that even she’d been previously happy to broadcast. He broke hearts. Period.
Tori and Izzy wouldn’t stand by and let her get hers shattered—not the first time she dipped her toe.
First time that they knew about, anyway.
Her brother’s reaction would be worse. His best friend and his nun-like sister—she could see the fallout now, and she definitely didn’t want to get in between Isaac and Alex’s friendship. Hers were hard fought for and very precious; she had no doubt the guys felt the same. This was something they’d have to keep very secret indeed.
There was the noise again. ‘Come on, Isaac. Come and see if Mickey’s back.’
‘Okay. Okay. I’m clearly not going to get any peace until I do.’ He stood, butt-naked, sleepily scratching his head, and again the sight of him stripped the air from her lungs.
‘Wait. Clothes.’ She handed him a pair of black sweatpants from the back of a chair, ignoring his frown, trying to drag her eyes away from him. But failing, because he was an absolute joy to look at. ‘Put these on. Much as I like to see you naked I’m not sure Mickey would cope. It might scar the poor thing for life.’
‘Well, I’m sure he’d love seeing you naked as much as I do. But hell … I feel way too overdressed now.’ He threw Poppy a dark grey T-shirt, which she put on; it skimmed her thighs. She tugged it down, inhaling his smell, suddenly feeling a little shy to be so casual and yet intimate with him out of bed—especially after everything they’d done.
Things had irrevocably changed between them—could never be the same. Especially once it ended. She’d be back to smiling politely at his plus-one dates. Wondering how it was for them in bed. Whether he’d given them the same attention, pleasure. And the jokey entente they’d shared would be gone for ever. Because how could it not? How could it find a new equilibrium after this?
He watched her and smiled. ‘It looks a hell of a lot better on you than it does on me. I’ll go first, just in case it’s not a mouse.’
‘Why? What else could it be?’ Suddenly panicked, she clung to his bare chest.
He pressed a hard kiss on her mouth, his hands gripping her waist and dragging her to him. Teeth against teeth. Protective. Possessive. Reassuring. Feral.
He finally pulled away. ‘I’m sure it’s just a mouse. Let’s get this over and done with, then we can catch some sleep before morning.’ Fingers trailed along her bottom, squeezing a cheek. ‘Or we could find something more interesting to do …’
‘Here, take this.’ She handed him the softball bat, grabbed his hand and followed him out of the bedroom. As they crept towards the lounge they heard a louder noise. Not a mouse at all. Whispered voices that sounded very human. At least one distinctly male.
Isaac’s fist tightened around Poppy’s; he pushed her behind him. ‘Stay here.’
‘Like hell I will.’ She kept hold as he increased his pace.
‘Hey. What the hell’s going on?’
‘Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Isaac. You made me jump.’ The flick of a switch flooded the lounge with bright light, and in the middle of the room, suitcases at their feet, stood Tori and Matt. Suntanned, stupefied and staring. Tori’s voice was incredulous as her eyes took in Isaac’s naked torso, Poppy’s scantily covered legs and the hand-holding that connected them. ‘And … Poppy? Really?’ Her voice rose an octave. ‘Poppy?’
Busted. Isaac’s gut tightened. This was not the plan. How the hell would they explain this?
And what did it matter? They had nothing to be guilty about. Just two people participating in advanced adult activities. Consenting. Fun. ‘Hey, guys. Good trip?’
‘Great.’ Matt grinned. ‘Sorry, are we interrupting?’
‘Hi.’ Poppy stepped out from behind Isaac’s back, grabbed a cushion from the nearest chair and held it in front of the T-shirt that showed her legs off to their full glory. But her cheeks blazed and she barely made eye contact with her friends. ‘Welcome home. We weren’t expecting you until … er …’ She frowned. ‘When were you supposed to be coming home?’
‘Last night, actually. I sent an email. As it was, we got delayed. Clearly you weren’t expecting us—look at the place …’ Tori wrestled some of the smile from her mouth and pointed to the debris left over from last night’s pash session. Articles of clothing littered the floor, couch, and the bra had landed on the Christmas tree. ‘Interesting choice of decoration. I thought we were being burgled and I’d caught you in the act.’
In one act, yes. Definitely not the act Tori was thinking about. Isaac dropped the bat onto the sofa. ‘Likewise. I’ll sort it out tomorrow. We got a little distracted …’ He was not going to explain or apologise. ‘So, if you don’t mind we’ll be going back to bed. See you in the morning.’
‘Okay. No worries.’ Matt gave a know-it-all, well-done-mate smile that Isaac wanted to wipe from his face.
But Tori glanced over to Poppy, her smile slipped and she didn’t move.
Neither did Poppy.
Isaac looked at her and she looked back at him, her face still bright red and yet devoid of any discernible emotion. Her hand dropped away from his and he knew in that instant that she regretted it all. Maybe not the sex, but the fallout, the explaining. The reality. Knew she wouldn’t be coming back to his bed. This exposition was too intense, the connection too fresh and fragile and new to sustain under the glare of others.
Because knowing the tight-knit friendship Poppy and Tori had there would be post-mortem ad infinitum and Poppy just wouldn’t be able to explain what they’d got themselves into.
For that fact, neither could he.
Poppy shook her head minutely. ‘I’ll just have a quick word with Tori if you don’t mind? I’ll see you … er … later.’
‘Poppy. It’s okay.’ He reached a hand to her waist and tried to pull her close. He didn’t know what to say to make it better—it wasn’t as if he were going to make any kind of declaration, or offer her a future. But it would be better for them all if they went back to bed and reconvened later. Preferably never. For once he was well out of his depth. Genial Isaac who always had the right drinks, the right answers, knew how to do the right thing, was stumped.
But she shrugged him off. ‘So, Tori, how was South Africa? You look amazing, great tan. Shall I put the kettle on?’
And he should have been pleased she was letting him off the hook. And normally he would have been. Hell, he never thought twice about cooling things off when liaisons started to get uncomfortable. But … well, this thing with Poppy was beyond anything he’d ever known and he didn’t know how to react. Except to take her lead and do what he usually did.
Walk away.
Poppy watched as Isaac slunk back to his room and then let out a deep rush of air from her lungs. She couldn’t do the walk of shame and follow him. To do what? How could they sleep now? How could they do anything now? When Tori and Matt would hear. Would question—and she didn’t have any answers. Not for them and certainly not for herself.
Tori kissed Matt goodnight and sent him to bed. ‘Save a bit of space for me in that single bed, won’t you? Oh, wait, Poppy did you ever get it fixed?’
Poppy grinned at the memory of an over-enthusiastic sex session between Tori and Matt that had resulted in a broken bed and the red-faced next-morning admission to their landlady. ‘It was unfixable. But I bought a new one, so you owe me extra rent for that.’
Tori grinned back, eyes glinting. ‘It was worth it. Every penny.’ Then she turned to Matt. ‘Tomorrow we’ll go flat-hunting, hon. Finally.’ She put a hand out to her friend, eyes wide, whispering, ‘To be honest I could sleep anywhere, that flight was so long. But you! Whoa. That was a surprise. What the hell is going on?’
‘No, you first. Flat-hunting?’ There went another friend flying the coop. She was going to suffer a bad case of empty-nest syndrome very soon when there’d only be her and Isaac left. Oh, God—how would that pan out? He’d have to go. That was all. Then she’d find herself a whole new set of flatmates.
Now that didn’t appeal at all. She’d loved having this place with her friends around her. Loved her girly chats, her best friends who’d seen her through thick and—if only she’d been honest with them at the start—almost the very thin.
It was the end of an era.
No, she couldn’t think like that. They’d still be friends, just with extras, too—husbands, fiancés, maybe even kids some day. The group was just getting bigger, was all. It was still a group. Still her group. ‘Tell me more. Tell me everything.’
‘Oh, no. You can very definitely go first, Pops.’ Tori pulled her through to the kitchen and closed the door, switched on the kettle and found two cups. ‘You’re sleeping with Isaac? Really? What’s happening? Because this is so far from the Poppy I know, I’m very confused.’
You and me both. She felt so exposed. Not least because she hadn’t a clue what was happening.
Desperately trying to keep out of the unwanted spotlight, Poppy shrugged as embarrassment shuddered through her. Not unlike the first time she’d been with a man. Just a quickie before we go home? Atta girl. You know I’d choose you if I could but she needs me. No—then she’d felt guilt and shame. Used. Dirty.
With Isaac she’d felt none of that. Just wanted, and close. Touching someone after being so independent for so long. So … lonely. Someone stroking her skin. Someone wanting to make her happy. She bit her lips together as unbidden emotions ran through her. She wanted it again. She wanted more. To feel normal, to give in to feelings and needs she’d locked away in disgust and refused to open for too long.
The embarrassment was just a reaction to being caught out.
Would it ever be normal for her? Would she ever feel happy about having sex?
She had. Ten minutes ago she had. She’d felt reborn. Alive. Vibrant.
Her jaw tightened. Damn. It was all so temporary. This feeling of absolute satisfaction was temporary. Isaac was temporary.
She hoped to goodness the embarrassment would be temporary, too, and not likely to last almost a decade.
Tori patted her arm. ‘Pops, are you okay?’
‘Oh, sorry. I’m fine. It was just tonight. I mean … we’ve been skirting around each other for a few days now, weeks even …’
‘Try years? It was bloody obvious to all of us, but neither of you seemed to realise … Can’t count the number of times we’d thought you would … you know. It was just a matter of time.’
‘Really, you all thought—?’ That this thing had been there all along? How come neither of them had ever noticed? How come no one had ever said anything? Had they? She’d been so determined to deny any vestige of sexual attraction to anyone she’d shut them all up with a stare. ‘Things came to fruition a few hours ago.’
‘Details, sweetie. Now. Everything.’ Teabags were plopped into mugs. Milk taken out of the fridge. A packet of chocolate digestives opened and thrown onto a plate.
Her appetite had fled along with her dignity when she’d been caught wearing nothing but Isaac’s shirt, and suddenly Poppy felt depleted, bone tired. Exhausted. ‘I’m not going to tell you anything past we slept together.’ And it was epic.
‘But, Poppy. You don’t sleep with anyone. Ever. Not in all the time I’ve known you. So why choose Isaac? Why now?’
Poppy shrugged. ‘It was an itch and we needed to scratch it.’
Tori threw her an incredulous look that said, as if. ‘So what’s going to happen next? Are you two dating?’
