Chapter 16
16
The way Kieran’s looking at me is making my heart race and my breath catch. He’s standing over by the fireplace, one elbow resting on the mantelpiece, and he’s meant to be listening to one of the several people in his team who all seem to be talking over each other, discussing what he did right today, what he did wrong, what he needs to work on, how he’s going to win the third round. But he’s not listening to them. He’s staring at me as I linger awkwardly at the back of the room, his eyes fiercely intense, his jaw locked, his chest rising slow and steady. He almost looks angry, but there’s more to it than that. Hunger.
When he got home this evening, I was unashamedly ready to greet him in the hallway. After a shaky start, it was a brilliant match and he deserved to win. He was down three games in the first set, and I could see him getting frustrated, but he sat down between the end change with his eyes closed, taking deep breaths and muttering something to himself. When the umpire announced, ‘Time,’ Kieran’s eyes flashed open and there was something different about the way he stepped back onto the court. It was like a switch had flipped and he’d decided he wasn’t going to lose after all. He won in three straight sets.
As I heard the car pull up, I stood in the hallway in a cute red summer dress, impatient to see him, but when the door opened, a crowd of people spilled into the flat and Kieran was somewhere in the middle of them. Now that he’s through to the third round, I guess things are getting serious and his team aren’t going to waste a spare moment of preparation. His entourage, in a frenzy of excitement after his win, accompanied him home to start prepping him for his next opponent. I had managed to say a timid congratulations that he’d heard and tried to respond to, but Neil was talking over everyone, telling them where they should be and what they should be doing. I’ve been hoping they don’t stay late again tonight. I just want some time alone with Kieran.
I’d nominated myself as drink-bearer, offering beverages to his team as they took over the living room. Having brought some chilled soft drinks through, I’ve found myself stuck in the corner at the back, waiting while Kieran’s fitness specialists organised the gym equipment so I can dart back out again.
But I realised his eyes were on me the minute I looked up. He’d been watching me, waiting for me to notice. I smiled at first. A warm, beaming, you-did-it type smile, but he didn’t smile back.
He looked at me as he’s still looking at me now, a searing gaze that makes my brain scramble and my heart flutter with anticipation, my belly filling with warmth and fluttering butterflies all at once. Without dropping my gaze, the creases in his brow deepen and he lifts his hand to rub his mouth, agitated, while his assistant coach is saying something and pointing at the screen of his iPad. Kieran doesn’t bother to pretend to seem interested. My heart is now thudding so loud it’s in my ears, and the rest of the room has been reduced to white noise.
Swallowing, I part my lips. His eyes flare.
‘Everyone out.’
The room falls silent as his team all turn to look at him, startled by his abrupt instruction.
‘Kieran,’ Neil says, his smile faltering as he observes Kieran’s expression, ‘we have a lot to go through and—’
‘We’ll go through it tomorrow,’ Kieran interrupts, his voice low and severe, his eyes still fixed on me, melting me to the ground.
‘Okay, but surely you want some physio tonight or—’
‘Neil,’ Kieran growls, ripping his gaze away from me to glare at his coach, ‘I have won a big match today and I would like to rest so I can win the next one. I’m very grateful to everyone here and, frankly, the team deserves the night off, too. So, everybody out.’
After sharing some looks, the rest of his team gather their things and, after congratulating him once again, begin to file out the room. Neil doesn’t move, his hands on his hips, his expression terse as he studies Kieran closely.
‘You sure about this?’ he says quietly.
‘I’m sure,’ Kieran replies, no hesitation.
Neil’s chin juts out, before he holds up his hands and says, ‘Okay. Okay, if this is what you want. You did well today. You can have the night off. But I want you on top form, ready to go when we arrive bright and early tomorrow. We have a fight on our hands next round. You need to be prepared. Got it?’
Kieran arches his brow in response, amused that Neil might think he’s the one in charge right now. Finally acknowledging that Kieran’s not going to budge, Neil turns and glances at me accusingly as he goes, exhaling audibly down the hallway. The last one to leave, he slams the front door shut behind him and the flat falls into silence.
Kieran and I remain on either side of the room.
The air between us is so charged, I can practically feel the sparks crackling.
‘You… you were amazing today,’ I manage to say.
‘Do you know how I pulled it back in the first set to win?’ he says, his expression serious, his voice strained and impatient.
My mouth is so dry under his intense gaze, I have to lick my lips.
‘I thought about this,’ he says.
He reaches into his pocket with his right hand and pulls out a folded piece of paper that he holds up, neatly wedged between his middle and forefinger. It’s the sketch I gave him this morning before he left.
‘The anger I felt at myself seemed to lessen,’ he says, taking a couple of slow steps across the room towards me. ‘The tightness in my chest eased. The anxiety loosened its grip.’ Another step. ‘The fog in my brain drifted.’ And another. ‘The fear dissolved.’ One more step. ‘My heart rate slowed.’ He’s right in front of me now, the intoxicating musky scent of his cologne filling my lungs and making my body tingle. ‘For the first time in a long time, Flossie, I felt I could win.’
I can barely breathe, my heart thrumming.
‘And you proved today that you can,’ I whisper, bringing my eyes up to meet his.
His jaw ticks. ‘Before each point, I tried to shut out all the voices, but there was one I couldn’t shake. Yours.’
He reaches up to trail his fingers along my jaw.
‘You’re inside my head, Flossie Hendrix,’ he states huskily, making me shiver.
His hand is suddenly curled at the nape of my neck and he pulls me towards him, his mouth clashing against mine violently, devouring me without wasting another moment. As his other hand grips at the curve of my hip, a swirling heat erupts through my body, consuming every part of me. My hands grasp his broad shoulders and I arch my hips into his, causing him to groan into my mouth, a sound so hot it sends a shudder down my spine.
This kiss is everything. He is everything. Nothing else matters. The world could be on fire, I don’t care. I need more. I need him.
My hands fall to the hem of his shirt, and grasping fistfuls of the material, I yank it up and he breaks the kiss to finish what I’ve started, pulling it up over his head and dropping it on the floor. I swallow the lump in my throat as I admire the curves of his smooth muscled biceps and his impeccably toned torso. Fuck. This isn’t fair. He’s so perfect, he should be on every billboard in the city. I’d buy whatever he’s selling. As he grabs my hips and pulls me back towards him, his mouth finds mine again, and my hands splay across his warm, solid chest, my fingers impatiently gliding over his skin to his groin, indulging in every indent, ridge and flex of muscle.
He responds by nibbling down my neck to my shoulders, making me shiver. His hands travel round my back, desperately hunting for the zip of my dress. He finds it, yanking it down hastily and letting the dress tumble to the floor. It crumples in a circle around my ankles and I step forwards to kick it away. Keeping his hands on my hips, he draws back briefly to look at me, his eyes widening as they roam down to my matching black lacy bra and thong before coming back to lock with mine, his scalding gaze igniting something wild and feverish in me.
He just has time to breathlessly mutter, ‘You’re fucking unbelievable,’ before our mouths smash together again. An impulsive moan climbs up my throat and I can’t stop it. The sound sends him into overdrive, his hands dropping to grip the back of my thighs before he picks me up in one swift movement, winding my legs around his waist.
Without breaking the kiss, he carries me into the hallway as though I weigh nothing at all and he moves towards the bedroom, one hand clasping the back of my thigh, the other pressing into my back, holding me in place. I feel so safe and small up here, cradled in his arms. I’d go with him anywhere. I cup his face in my hands, kissing it all over, nipping his mouth, trailing my lips softly along the prickly stubble of his jaw. I’m intoxicated by him and I want him to know that. I run my tongue along the skin below his ear, gently tugging at his earlobe with my teeth.
‘Flossie,’ he growls, knocking his elbow into the doorframe of our bedroom as a thrill rolls in my stomach at having the power to distract him.
He lowers me gently onto the bed, my legs still locked around his waist as he kneels on the duvet between them. Urging me to let him free for a moment, I unhook my ankles from his back and he begins to strip away the rest of his clothes down to his underwear, his glazed eyes fixed on mine the whole time, his expression serious and steady. Leaving his black boxers on, he places his hands either side of the pillow and dips his head to kiss me. Sinking my nails into his shoulder blades, I can feel the muscles tightening and flexing as he hovers above me before he props himself on his elbow, easing his weight down on top of me.
As his tongue parts my lips once more, his fingers graze over the lace of my bra. I respond by inhaling deeply so that my chest swells into his hand, a move that seems to destroy his last shreds of resolve, as he yanks down the fabric and squeezes my breast urgently. His hand follows the fabric of the bra round to the clasp at the back and I arch my spine to make it easier for him to unfasten it, in turn pressing my hips into the hard bulge of his boxers and causing him to groan deeply.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he tells me, heaving a sigh as he pulls my bra off and tosses it to the floor. ‘And so sexy. So unbelievably sexy. Christ.’
A ripple of shyness flutters through my body as he takes a moment to look at me properly. He must notice something cross my expression, because he lowers himself down to kiss me gently, whispering, ‘Are you sure you want this? We can stop.’
Before I can stop it, a laugh bubbles up my throat. ‘Are you kidding?’
His lips twitch into a mischievous smile, his eyes flashing dangerously at me before he tilts his head to kiss the edge of my jaw, his breath in my ear as he murmurs, ‘Say it.’
‘Say what?’
‘Tell me what you want.’
Heat pulses between my legs as I feel his lips on my neck. ‘You know what I want.’
‘Say it.’ His kisses move down to my collarbone.
‘I want this,’ I breathe urgently. ‘I want you.’
‘Good,’ he mutters against my skin, his tongue circling my nipple, one hand resting on my hip. ‘Very good.’ His hand slides down to the top of my thong, his finger trailing along the seam. He’s tormenting me and it’s agonising. ‘And can I touch you here?’
‘Yes.’ I’m losing my mind and he’s toying with me, the bastard. ‘Kieran, please.’
I shift beneath him impatiently and he chuckles softly, before he takes my nipple into his mouth and slides his fingers beneath the edge of my thong, gliding down the damp material between my legs.
A tortured growl escapes his mouth, vibrating against my skin.
‘Fuck,’ he rasps. ‘You’re so wet.’
I’ve never been so turned on in my life, craving him more and more every second. After what feels like an eternity, he slides a finger inside me and I gasp, tilting my head back into the pillow and closing my eyes, moaning as he keeps thrusting, adding a second finger while his thumb circles my clit, sending sparks dancing behind my eyelids.
‘Is that good? Like that?’ he’s asking breathlessly, but I can barely concentrate on what his words mean, let alone form ones that make sense enough to answer him.
All I can do is utter ‘yes’ repeatedly through soft whimpers and moans, losing control beneath his fingers as they work faster and harder.
He groans into my neck. ‘You look so fucking good like this, you have no idea.’
When he pulls his fingers out, my breath catches with disappointment, but before I have the chance to beg him not to stop, he’s moved to kiss a trail down from my belly button to the top edge of my thong, making my stomach tighten in anticipation. He removes my underwear completely, peeling it down my legs and dropping it over the side of the bed. He starts to kiss along the top of my thigh, before he runs his tongue around my clit and thrusts two fingers inside me again.
I gasp with pleasure, my spine arching. He lets out a moan of satisfaction at my response and as I feel it vibrate through me it nearly tips me over the edge. I grip the duvet beneath me, jolts of electricity shooting through my body. I’ve never been so close with someone so quickly before. It’s a heady mixture of him being the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on and someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. I’m writhing beneath him, grinding into the rhythm of his hand and tongue, willingly powerless under his control.
My legs begin to tremor uncontrollably, the pressure mounting.
‘Kieran, I… oh God… I’m going to…’
He doesn’t let up, increasing the pace of his fingers in coordination with his tongue, sending me into spasms as I squeeze around his fingers and cry out his name, a flood of turbulent pleasure unfurling through my body.
I lie in a daze, my head spinning, my breath erratic and shaking as my body slowly starts to regroup. He moves to lean over me, kissing my neck as I reach out for him, gripping his shoulders, wanting him close, needing him closer.
‘Oh my God,’ I whisper, slowly emerging from my haze.
‘How are you feeling?’ he mutters, his lips grazing against my skin.
I exhale, my heart fluttering. ‘I want more.’
Running my fingers down his chest, I reach beneath the waistband of his boxers, and hear his breath catch as my hand wraps around his cock.
Wow.I can’t stop my eyes widening at how big he is, taking a beat to imagine what he’ll feel like inside me, before I start to softly stroke him up and down, thrills rushing through me as his breathing grows heavier. His groans are causing an intensity to build between my legs again and I grip him firmer, moving my hand faster until he gasps, reaching down to grab my wrist and make me stop.
‘If you keep going like that, I won’t last much longer,’ he says through gritted teeth.
I smile up at him, biting my lip and rolling across to my bedside table, propping myself up to open the drawer and find the box I’m looking for. Lying back, I hold out the foil package and he takes it, tearing the condom open with his teeth and rolling it on. When he moves to settle between my legs, leaning over me, his eyes are blazing with heat and it makes my pulse quicken that I can have this effect on him, this unbelievably hot, sculpted guy who I’d never believed would look twice at me. But if I want proof he’s as turned on as I am, I only have to glance down. His chest is heaving, but he hesitates.
‘Are you sure?’ he checks.
Removing any lingering doubt, I cradle his face in my hands and bring his lips to mine.
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ I whisper into his mouth and he kisses me.
My breath hitches as he enters, slow and a little cautious at first as my body opens to take him in. He feels so incredible, I know straight away that I’ll be able to come again. He pulls back achingly slowly and then slides back in, rolling his hips, thrusting harder and deeper, and filling my body with fluttering waves of ecstasy each time. As he groans into my ear, I grab the nape of his neck with one hand while the other grabs a fistful of the duvet, moaning loudly as he rocks into me faster.
‘You feel so fucking good, baby,’ he breathes, pressing his lips hard against mine.
I don’t know if it was him calling me that in his low, raspy voice – as though, even if it’s just for this one blissful, surreal moment, I’m his and only his – but something combusts within me. Heat rockets through my body and every muscle tightens and quivers. He feels it and I watch him lose control, his eyes glazing as he moves his hand down to rub the spot between my legs, sending my body into overdrive as the pressure builds.
‘Fuck,’ he grunts, ‘I can feel you. Flossie, fuck, you’re making me c—’
He sinks into me with a loud groan, and as I feel him pulse and swell inside me, I lose myself again, consumed by the ecstasy rolling through my body, trembling beneath him.
*
‘How are you feeling about the next round?’ I ask softly, once he’s returned from the bathroom and has got back into bed. I’m nuzzled into the crook of his arm, my head resting against his bare chest, one hand lazily doodling patterns across his stomach.
He chuckles, tightening his arm around me. ‘You want to go again? Give me a minute and I’m game.’
‘I’m talking about Wimbledon.’ I roll my eyes, but break into a grin, flattered at his enthusiasm. ‘You remember winning your match today?’
‘Oh, that, yeah, rings a bell.’ He sighs, lifting his other hand to rest behind his head on the pillow. ‘I don’t know. A little nervous, I guess. It’s still early in the tournament, but one step closer and all that.’
‘What is it about Wimbledon? Why is that the one you all want to win?’
He takes a moment to work out his answer and in the quiet, I listen to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat. I didn’t want to assume that I’d sleep in the bed next to him tonight after everything that’s just happened, but I was relieved when he asked me to stay. I’m not sure there’s anywhere I’d rather be than here lying beside him, sheets draped over us, my leg wrapped around his, his arm cradling me against him, his fingertips resting lightly on my hip.
‘There’s something about playing on the courts there,’ he answers eventually in a soft voice. ‘You can feel the history, everything and everyone who went before you. Wimbledon has a lot of heritage and all the rules encourage you to respect that heritage and tradition, you know? It’s the prestige of it. The biggest thing for me is the silence.’
I raise my eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’
‘When you step up to serve at Wimbledon, it’s silent. Complete silence.’
‘That must be daunting.’
‘Mm.’
We fall into comfortable silence and I relax against him, closing my eyes. I’m starting to drift off when he speaks again.
‘Flossie?’
‘Yes?’
‘Will you come watch the match on Friday?’ he asks cautiously. ‘You can sit with my team in the player box of the stands. I’d like you to be there.’
‘Sure, Kieran,’ I say calmly, although my heartbeat quickens in my chest to an alarming rate. ‘I’ll be there.’