Chapter 40
By afternoon, the last of the boxes had been shifted.
The rooms looked like a shell waiting to become a home, only spaces waiting for someone else's life to fill them.
Euan had presented himself, breakfast in hand, a scarce hour after he had crept out like a thief.
David gave him a knowing smile but said nothing.
Sage and Euan worked side by side, dusting, sweeping, and stacking the last odds and ends.
Sage found him singing a vaguely familiar song, which got stuck in her head.
To fall down at your door
"The Proclaimers," Euan supplied cheerfully when she complained that it was stuck in her head.
Once the cleaning was done, the three of them drove to the new place. Together, they coaxed the kitchen into something semi-usable after hunting down mugs for tea and the kettle in the unpacked boxes, enough to pretend normalcy was on the horizon.
David bounded down the stairs, his grin wide. "Patrick's waiting...and Mauve and Kira, too. We're gonna grab food and maybe hit the park." He was halfway to the door before Sage could answer.
"Don't stay out too late," she called after him.
"Yeah, yeah," came the reply, already muffled by distance.
“And stay away for those lads who were vaping, alright?”
The silence he left behind was strangely loud and intimate at the same time. Sage leaned against the counter, brushing imaginary dust from her hands, watching Euan rinse his.
"So," she said lightly, "are you looking for a place around here?"
He turned, a bashful look softening his features. "Well...not exactly looking."
Suspicion flickered across her face. "Euan..."
He rubbed the back of his neck, then gestured gleefully towards the kitchen window. "We're going to be neighbours."
She frowned, stepping closer to peer out. Across the way, past the hedges, stood a neat, detached house with white trim.
Her eyes widened. "That wasn't for sale."
He grinned, boyish and smug. "No, it wasn't. But I gave them an offer they couldn't refuse."
Sage's mouth fell open, speechless. "You... Euan!"
"What?" He lifted his hands in mock innocence. "Man's gotta protect his interests."
She shook her head, but she couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up. "Three houses down?"
"Exactly three," he said, stepping close enough that his shoulder brushed hers as they both looked out the window. "I'll be out wi' ma binoculars, just in case any o' the neighbourhood lads get any ideas."
Before she could roll her eyes, he shifted, bracing one palm on either side of the counter, caging her in. The playful spark in his grin deepened into something darker, hungrier.
Her breath caught as he leaned down, his mouth finding hers in a searing kiss that stole thought and air alike. His tongue teased at her lips before pushing past, tangling with hers in a fierce, unrelenting slide. She moaned into his mouth, and he used the sound, the moment, to claim more.
His hands roamed, learning the shape of her breasts, memorising the lines of her waist before curving lower. With a firm tug, he dragged her against him, fingers tightening at her buttocks until she was flush against the hard press of his body.
The laugh she'd been holding dissolved into a moan of want, her hands clutching his shirt before pulling it free from his pants and sliding over bare skin.
One muscular thigh pressed between hers, parting them while his hardness pressed urgently against her belly.
They both groaned as she moved against his thigh with a sensuous twist of her hips.
His hands moved up to cup her face and pressed her forehead against his. Their breaths came ragged, like they'd sprinted miles only to collide here, in this moment.
Then, rough and unfiltered, his voice broke the charged silence. "Why the fuck are ye wearin' pants? You should only wear skirts...an' nae panties."
Her lips parted, amusement trickling in, a tremor of laughter running through her. "Are you...starting a wishlist?"
"It's more of a wishlist of you. It has been a long few months of cold showers and my left hand."
Her fingers slid into his until they stumbled towards the sofa.
The curtains were already drawn, the room hushed and intimate, the faint spill of lamplight softening the edges.
Sheets were draped across the cushions, as though the place had been waiting for them.
They slipped as he fell back, hauling her with him until she straddled his lap.
Their mouths met again, frantic and bruising, his teeth catching her lower lip as though he wanted to consume her whole. His hands closed over her breasts, rough palms kneading, forcing a gasp from her throat.
"I want to see you," he mumbled as he rushed to divest her of her sweater and then her bra.
Careful fingers cupped her full breasts, shaped them before moving to trace her pink nipples.
His mouth moved to pull one into his mouth and gently lave it with his tongue.
His teeth playfully bit, drawing a gasp before moving on to lavish the same attention on the other.
"Take your pants off, love. Take it off," he muttered urgently against her breast.
"You first," Sage grumbled.
He stood with her. Together, they undressed while cataloguing every new patch of skin uncovered.
Slowly, reverently, he traced his hands along her arms, sliding fabric aside, pressing kisses to each patch of skin revealed.
With every button undone, every layer eased away, Sage's breath grew shallower, her nerves and desire tangling until she could hardly separate them.
When she fidgeted under the intensity of his stare, he caught her hand, brushing his thumb over her palm. "Beautiful," he whispered with wonder, the word itself steadying her.
The world narrowed to the two of them—the hush of the house around them, the press of his lips, the heat of his skin—and Sage let herself forget the ghosts of her past, the boxes, the endings.
For once, she let herself be wanted, completely and without hesitation.
Sage did not have any time to feel shy before he pulled her to him, his hardness pressing insistently between them.
"I won't last," he groaned, reaching for the condoms in his pant pocket.
They both looked at each other and giggled before turning serious again.
"I won't, either," she whispered, desperate and reckless. "I want to feel you."
A curse tore from his chest, his jaw clenched as though her words undid him completely. "I'm clean. Swear it. It's only ever been cold showers and my own hand since ye."
The confession hit her like a spark to tinder.
He dropped onto the sofa with a groan that was half relief, half hunger, pulling her between his knees.
When she moved to climb onto his lap, he caught her waist and guided her closer, his breath hot against her throat.
His fingers moved down her soft belly to part her curls and find her sensitive nub.
A slow finger circled it gently before dipping down into her softness.
She was already wet there, and he brought the wetness out to circle her sensitive nub again and again.
Their mouths collided, hungry and unrestrained. She shivered, pressing into his touch.
"You've no idea how long I've dreamed of this," he murmured, voice ragged, the lilt of his brogue curling around her like smoke.
Her answer was a wordless gasp against his lips as she settled astride him, her knees braced on either side of his hips.
Their foreheads pressed together once more, breaths tangling, the heat of them wrapping the room in something wild and unstoppable as she reached between them.
Soft fingers explored as she moved her hands over his manhood, once, twice, before moving closer to notching her soft opening on him and slowly sink down.
He watched as she stopped, her face pinching in pain.
"It's been a while," she whispered with a gasp.
Then she bore down until he was completely enveloped in her wet heat.
He threw his head back with a hoarse cry as she moved up and down on him, his fingers sinking into her hips to guide her, touch her, taste her neck.
She shifted against him, the friction making him groan.
His hands clamped around her hips, guiding her as though he couldn't decide whether to slow her down or drive her harder.
"Christ, lass," he bit out, his voice low and guttural. "Ye'll ruin me."
She moved with a smile on her face as she watched him squeeze his eyes shut, every roll of her hips an unspoken dare. His head tipped back against the sofa, a broken sound rumbling in his throat, his body taut beneath hers.
“That’s my good lass. Just like that, just like that.”
The rhythm between them grew rough, raw—nothing careful, nothing restrained. Only hunger, only the shuddering build of release as she drove herself higher, chasing the edge until it broke over her in a wave that left her shaking and clinging to him, her cry muffled against his neck.
He crushed her close, his breath tearing ragged from his lungs, holding her as if the world outside those drawn curtains no longer existed.
She collapsed against him, chest heaving, her skin stuck to his with the heat of what they'd just done. For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged, uneven breaths, like they'd outrun the world to land here.
Then, her eyes flicked to the door. In her mind, she imagined David barging in or the neighbours.
"Oh God," she groaned, covering her face with her hands. "The front door isn't even locked."
He chuckled low in his throat, still catching his breath. "Aye, well, anyone comin' in would've got an education."
She peeked through her fingers, then glanced down at the tangle of sheets beneath them. "At least we didn't ruin the sofa."
His head snapped towards her, disbelief and a wicked grin colliding on his face. "That's it? That's all ye've got tae say? After I just gave ye the best orgasm of your life, woman?"
Her lips twitched, fighting a smile. "Well...the sofa was new."
He groaned, dramatic and exasperated, pulling her tighter against him. "Ye're no good for my ego, lass."
Sage slid away from him to walk to the door.
She felt ridiculous because she was no siren, but she could feel the burn of his eyes on her arse.
She turned back and leaned against the doorframe, heart drumming, courage rising like a dare.
"So, do you want to...christen the bed?" she asked, her invitation clear.
Euan's grin was instant, wicked and warm all at once. "You really have to ask?"
Before she could second-guess herself, he scooped her up in a fireman's lift. "Euan!" she squealed, holding on for dear life as he carried her towards the master bedroom after taking the stairs in a run, ”you are going to throw your back”.
“I have been training for this moment since I met you,” he joked as he strode in.
"What am I doing?" she laughed nervously.
"Oh, I could give ye a few suggestions on what I would like ye to do," he teased, his voice deliciously rough.
She peeked at him through her fingers, suddenly shy. "I...want to see you," she admitted softly, but faltered. "But maybe...could we turn out the lights?"
"Not a chance," he murmured, setting her gently on the bed. His gaze burned in the half-dark room. "I've waited too long to hide from this."