Chapter 8
Valentino had no idea how long it took for them to bump back down to earth. It was a slow realisation. A creeping awareness of the jut of her hips in his palms, the weight of her head against his shoulder, the slight brush of her lips against his collarbone as their breathing returned to normal.
He liked it here, like this, sexual malaise injecting lead into his bones, their bodies still intimately joined, his cock still semi-hard. He liked the feel of her draped against him. Liked how the breadth of his body cushioned the slightness of hers.
There was nothing friend-like about this intimacy. About the perfection of their fit. Had he ever just instantly fit with another woman? Like the other half of a whole. The thought had him squeezing her hip involuntarily and she stirred, lifting her head like it weighed a tonne.
She looked thoroughly sated – her movements chill, her pixie hair a little wild from the ruffle of his fingers – and Valentino’s body stirred again.
She smiled at him with dreamy, silvery-grey eyes, desire sparkling dewy as cobwebs for a beat or two before they started to clear and sharpen and that beatific smile slowly but surely faded.
Sighing heavily, she pressed her forehead to his shoulder before she eventually lifted it again. ‘Hey,’ she said, her voice sheepish, the colour in her cheeks not entirely from exertion any more.
‘Hey.’
Valentino wasn’t sure what else he should say. He knew what he wanted to say – to suggest. To do. He wanted to pick her up as she was, naked and still joined to him, find her room and do that over and over again.
But he could tell from the look in her eyes, the distance he could see gathering in the grey bedrock of her gaze, that she did not want him doing anything of the sort.
‘I’m going to…’
She gestured airily and Valentino nodded.
She wanted up. Removing his hands from her body, he sat passively as she lifted from him, suppressing the groan as his dick slid free, satisfied to hear her corresponding whimper before she pushed to her feet.
Satisfied, too, that she didn’t move immediately away.
Couldn’t. Her fingers lightly touching down on his knee as her body swayed a little, her legs clearly not yet able to support her.
Yeah – he’d done that.
Her fingers were gone just as swiftly though and he had no time to admire her nakedness as she collected her clothes strewn on the floor around them and scurried off, disappearing through the kitchen.
Valentino’s head dropped back against the couch as he pushed a trembling hand through his hair. His pulse which had recovered from the physicality of his climax was thumping again, not fast but just as hard.
Now what? Was he supposed to leave? Were they not going to talk? Or would this be something they never talked about given how it had incinerated their pact to be friends?
A voice inside his head whispered get up and, in the absence of any other direction forthcoming, Valentino stirred himself to do just that, tucking his dick away as he stood.
His gaze fell on a framed photo on top of the television he hadn’t seen when he’d visited a few weeks ago due to the placement of the TV in relation to the doors to the deck.
Scooping his shirt off the floor, he put it on before wandering over to the frame and picking it up.
It was Peyton with an older couple. Her parents?
She was younger – maybe eighteen or nineteen – her figure fuller, rounder.
Not exactly curvy but no angles. Her caramel hair was long and she was laughing, her grey eyes lit with an easy humour.
She looked happy and carefree, so different from the wary, defensive woman he’d first met at his cousin’s wedding, and he was jealous – yes, jealous – of anyone who had known her back before life had done a number on Peyton Donald.
Although, he had seen her today at probably the happiest she’d been since he’d known her – possibly since that photograph had been taken – and that had been something else!
When she’d walked into his office this morning with McKenzie like a deer in headlights, his concern for her had skyrocketed.
He knew all about the squall of emotions parents endured during the cochlear implant process – he’d witnessed it with hundreds of his patients, and Peyton had been no different.
She’d looked tired, dark shadows beneath her incredibly huge eyes, making them appear even more stark in her face.
Her clothes, as usual, had been two sizes too big, skimming the bony angles of her body, hanging instead of hugging.
He’d suspected she hadn’t eaten any of the goodies he’d had delivered to her house.
Goodies he’d deliberately curated to tempt her – sweet flaky pastries, scrumptious pizzas, rich curries and risottos and pasta dishes heaving with protein.
Expensively good chocolate.
She’d looked so tense Valentino had wanted to cross that room and pull her into his arms. Take the yoke of anxiety from around her neck. But he’d known that wasn’t what she wanted.
What she’d needed.
She’d needed for McKenzie to hear, but it had taken so long to get to this point with so many setbacks, he knew she didn’t dare hope in case it too went awry.
But it hadn’t. It had been like Valentino knew it would be – a success. Like Peyton would have known had it been anybody other than her own precious flesh and blood. And that moment, the moment of hearing was – as always – joyous.
Hearing Peyton laugh, even more so.
It was rich and full throated and she’d been happier than he’d ever seen her, and that had been breathtaking.
Valentino realised then that he hadn’t heard her laugh.
Truly laugh. With joy. With abandon. He’d known she hadn’t had a whole lot to laugh about the last three years so the fact he was instrumental in giving her a reason for laughter had been gratifying.
And… humbling. Being privy to these momentous occasions in his patients’ lives never got old. But this one? It meant more than most.
Hell, when had that little girl and her mother become so personal?
A noise behind him alerted Valentino to Peyton’s return, and he placed the photograph back down and turned. She was fully dressed again in a different set of baggy clothes, looking neat as a pin – nothing like the ironed-out hot mess who had climbed out of his lap mere minutes ago.
Her hair was damp as if she’d showered – a quick shower for sure because she hadn’t been gone that long, but still… What did that mean? Had she needed to wash the memory away or had it been a more practical measure given they hadn’t used a condom?
Valentino wasn’t sure. Nor was he sure what the woman before him needed.
He’d known what the Peyton who’d straddled him had needed but he had no clue what this Peyton needed.
Lucky for him, she chose that moment to smile – a genuine one if a little subdued – and though he still didn’t know what to give her, he knew she wasn’t shutting him out either.
He smiled back and hers grew bigger, travelling all the way to her eyes, whammying into his chest. Man, he could get used to that smile.
Used to seeing it every evening. Every morning.
Which was all kinds of what the hell? A frisson of unease crawled up his neck because there was no denying in such a short time this woman had gotten under his skin.
He shouldn’t have come over tonight. After the emotional tenor of the day. After witnessing McKenzie hear for the first time. Was it any wonder that they’d ended up naked on her couch burning off all their suppressed attraction?
Which had been amazing but complicating.
Because where could this really go? After they’d already decided they’d just be friends.
And they’d soon be working together again.
They weren’t a couple – Peyton had made that clear.
She was a single mother with a high-needs child and he was here temporarily with a lousy track record for anything long term.
‘So…’ She folded her arms, her teeth digging into her bottom lip for a moment before she released it. ‘That happened.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘It wasn’t…’ More lip torturing. ‘…supposed to happen again.’
Valentino nodded. ‘Uh huh.’
Did she want him to apologise? He would if that’s what she wanted even though it had been her who had kissed him. Her who had straddled him. The truth was he could have stopped it though – probably. Even if just standing here looking at her he was bombarded with images of them doing it again.
Now.
Him stripping her out of those shapeless clothes and doing it in every room in the house. And then maybe come back and do it all again tomorrow.
Cristo! Non. Non. Non.
‘I don’t think…’
Her voice drifted away as her fingers clenched and unclenched around her upper arms. Her gaze locked with his and Valentino could see she was struggling to find the right words.
Suddenly, she looked lost and… exhausted.
Mentally. Like she’d reached her limit for being the responsible adult in her life today.
Clearing his throat, Valentino stepped into the breach.
‘This was just a blip,’ he said, throwing her a life line as he gestured dismissively between them with his hands.
‘I think we’re both adult enough to understand that today was highly unusual.
It was emotionally charged and sometimes, things like this happen. ’
‘Right.’ She nodded. Not enthusiastically but with at least passable conviction. ‘Things that shouldn’t have happened.’
‘Yup,’ Valentino agreed, trying to convince himself as much as Peyton. ‘It was just an… outlet,’ he added. ‘A one off.’
Peyton seemed to rally at his words. ‘Yes.’ Her nod this time was much more enthusiastic. ‘We’ve agreed to be friends, so we should stick to that because neither of us does this.’ She gestured back and forth between them. ‘I can’t and you… don’t.’