Chapter 24
Warren was still trying to process what she’d said, trying to formulate the words to tell her how much better she and her kids deserved, but then she was all over him, tongue breaking the set of his lips.
He cradled her face, warring against her hunger with his own. His cock hardened in seconds as she pushed him backwards, away from the cliff edge. Submitting to whatever it was she wanted. Letting her take the lead, because he had a feeling she didn’t get the chance to very often.
A prickle of pain drew him out of his trance, and he looked down to find he’d landed in a carpet of stinging nettles growing over the other side of the fence. “Ow. Nettles.”
Eiley leaned against his chest. “Oh, god, sorry. I wasn’t even looking.”
Warren chuckled, dragging her away from the leaves. He didn’t give a shite about a bit of a sting; his entire skin blazed with how he felt for her. “It’s fine.”
He made to kiss her again, but was met with her forehead as her eyes darted around the field. “We can find dock leaves.”
“Eiley.” He drew her attention back with a soft hand, enamoured, somehow, by her need to help such a tiny, insignificant discomfort.
That was who she was, he thought. Behind the anger and the upset was a gentle woman who would stop kissing him to take away a sting. “I don’t need dock leaves. I need you.”
A laugh whooshed from her as she melted back into him. She nibbled his lower lip tentatively, unsure, the nip of teeth distracting him from the rash around his ankle.
“Fuck, Eiley.” As much as he didn’t want to pull away, he was aching to do this properly. “We’re not doing this outside again. Get back over the fence. Please .”
Eiley’s climb was clumsier this time, and so was his. As soon as they were on the same side, he hauled her up, desperate to get her inside his van.
She squealed, a laughter he’d never heard from her before rippling out as she hooked her arms around his neck, legs around his hips. He led them back to the van while barely taking his mouth from hers, fingers sinking into the plush of her arse with perfect ease.
He set her down only when he had to open the van, key trembling against the lock. Her confusion returned, soon replaced with surprise when the door slid open.
She took in the small home he’d made for himself: a cosy double bed with tartan sheets, fairy lights around his shelf fixtures, a tiny kitchen corner to brew and wash up with a mini fridge tucked under the counter.
It wasn’t much, but it kept him comfortable and meant his build funds wouldn’t be drained by rent and utilities.
The only thing he missed was his own bathroom, but the station’s showers were right enough for now.
“Wait … you live in here?”
“Aye.”
“For … fun?” Eiley peeked inside as though she’d never seen anything like it.
“It’s cosy. Cheaper than a flat.”
And temporary , he considered adding, but the truth cowered behind a locked door today.
He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t tell her that the house behind them was his yet.
Perhaps because if he did, he’d also have to tell her what had led him here.
Why building this house was so important.
Why he’d chosen the place she only knew as the old, abandoned farmhouse.
It had never been something he’d wanted to share.
As a teen, he’d been known as that poor wee orphan lad who had watched his house burn to the ground.
The sympathy had chased him everywhere – and the loneliness, because nobody could understand the sort of guilt that came with being the only survivor of a tragedy that devastating.
Nobody knew how to talk to a boy who had lost everything.
He was grateful when Eiley stepped inside without further questions, and he followed, head ducked to avoid banging it on the ceiling.
“Efficient, too, under the circumstances,” he remarked lightly, though he wondered if she’d already changed her mind.
But Eiley turned around, eyes fixed on the outline of his erection jutting against his loose grey jogging shorts. “Comfier than a tree.”
“How long do we have?”
“I need to get back to my sister’s at four. She has the kids today.”
He glanced at his smart watch and grinned. “Hours to kill, then.”
She fell back onto the bed, already reaching for the hem of his T-shirt.
He took a long breath, peeling it off and leaving it on the floor.
If she cared about the dried sweat clinging to his skin, she didn’t show it, drinking in his bare torso with something like awe.
Her feather-light hands roamed the planes of his chest and stomach.
When she followed the dark line of his happy trail towards his waistband, his belly twitched against her, entire body helpless and overeager for anything she’d offer.
But he had other plans first, easing her fingers away gently. “Not yet, firecracker. Do you remember what I said the other day? What I wanted?”
A coy nod.
“Will you let me taste you?” It was a plea more than a question.
She tilted her head. “I … I haven’t been with anyone else but Finlay. Ever. I might be … rusty.”
God, he wondered what a man like him had done to deserve her. All of her. By the sounds of it, the answer was not a lot. Warren was desperate to give her every shred of pleasure possible. “We can go slow.”
“That’s not …” She looked down; gulped. “My body changed a lot when I had kids.”
He rested a knee before her on the bed, frowning. “You don’t think I’ll like what I see?”
“I don’t know. I’m still learning to like it. This is very, very new to me.”
How could she not see how much he wanted her? How fucking sexy she was?
When he was done with her, she’d know. He’d swear it as an oath if needed.
And then he thought of the skin on his back, and he understood a bit better. His body had changed, too, but not from anything as beautiful as having a family. The opposite.
He bent lower, dragging his palm up her outer thigh. “I think you’re perfect. Tell me if you don’t like something, aye?”
“Okay.”
“Are you going to take these off for me?” He plucked at the elastic of her leggings.
With trembling fingers, she rolled them down her hips, and he peeled them the rest of the way, leaving them on the floor with his shirt.
The sight of her bare legs had him reeling, pale and dusted with fair hair like the rest of her.
She had a scar on her right knee, and stretch marks both old and new patterned the soft flesh of her thighs and hips.
He wanted to devour her. Wanted to worship her until there wasn’t an ounce of self-doubt left in her.
With him nearing, she leaned back against his pillows, her knotted golden hair fanning across the blue tartan.
His . She was in his bed, leaving echoes of her against his sheets, and something carnal awakened in him at the thought that this moment, perhaps even her scent, would be woven into the place where he slept.
Warren kissed his way up her legs, starting at her knee and working over the pink stripes of her inner thigh until he met the lace edge of her underwear.
Eiley’s fingers curled tight into his duvet, knuckles whitening the closer he inched towards her centre.
He teased her, moving up and down to indulge in every freckle.
A serrated need began to hum beneath his veins when he hooked her legs over his shoulders to find the black cotton darkening with her desire.
“Is this for me, firecracker?”
She whimpered as he pressed his nose against it, inhaling her musk and then kissing her through the fabric. He wanted to take his time with her, soak up every moment they had, but he wasn’t sure he had the self-restraint to keep going at such a languid pace.
“Are you going to answer me?” he begged.
“Yes,” she said on a quiver. “Yes, it’s for you.”
Her torso sank back into his sheets, and she propped herself on her elbows. “Warren,” she whispered, a plea.
“What, love? What d’you want?” He parted her folds through her underwear, licking his lips. “Do you want my tongue?”
Her hips bucked, and he fought back a grin. “Gonna have to take these off, then.”
Lightly, he tugged her underwear down her legs, chasing the fabric with kisses until it reached her ankles.
She kicked them away, pulling him back to kiss him again.
Her fingers were already fiddling with the tie on his shorts, and he gave her what she wanted, undressing until he was left in only his briefs.
Her eyes clouded as they trailed over his near-naked body for the first time.
“You’re too perfect. It’s awful,” she said.
“I’m not perfect. Not even close.” And he dreaded the moment she’d see it. He hooked her thighs up gently. “Lift your hips.”
She did, and he placed a pillow beneath her so he had better access to her glistening pussy.
Parting the long dark hair over her folds, he drew her slick from her opening to her clit, fingers slipping around the hub of nerves. Eiley’s lids squeezed closed, a gentle divot forming between her brows.
“Relax for me,” he begged, pressing his palm over the rolls of her soft stomach in an effort to smooth the tension. Her knees grew slack around his shoulders. “That’s it. Good girl. I’m going to take care of you.”
It was fucking paradise, watching her lips part as he dipped a finger inside her.
“I still have a promise to keep.”
“What promise?” she panted, writhing against his touch.
“To make you come over and over.”
He inserted another finger, beckoning to her spongy G-spot until she was biting her lip, clamping down on a moan.
Warren gritted his teeth. He’d make it his mission to break her restraint and have her screaming by the end, even if he adored those wispy little whines.
She replaced the duvet in her fist for his hair, tugging just hard enough to leave his scalp stinging, and he responded in kind, working her harder, faster.
“What did you say? You don’t always come?” he remembered.
It didn’t seem to be a problem now, each thrust earning him delicious sounds of the hot, wet pleasure gathering inside her. “I … I didn’t think …”
“You didn’t think I’d be able to make you feel this good?”
She shook her head, trembling.
“God, you have no fucking idea.” In no time, she was clenching around his fingers, but he didn’t stop, letting her ride out her climax with dogged patience as she gasped and keened. Too quietly, like she was still afraid of him hearing how good he made her feel.
As the wave ebbed, she sank back onto the pillow, legs sliding off his shoulders. She pulled him closer, reaching for his cock. He pushed her arm away, locking it beside her head. “Not done with you yet, firecracker. Let me see your pretty tits.”
Flushed, Eiley pulled her cardigan and T-shirt off, and Warren cursed.
He would have kept cursing if he had enough breath left.
Her breasts were everything he’d dreamt about after that night in the bookstore, low and full, nipples a perfect pearl-pink.
Her stomach was a round, gentle curve made dimpled by more puckered stretch marks.
“I swear to god, Eiley, you’re so fucking gorgeous.
” More gorgeous than anybody he’d ever seen before.
Even her shoulders, made golden by tight clusters of freckles, drew his attention; the pale, translucent column of her neck, where a gold necklace with an E pendant pooled in the hollow of her collarbone; her swollen, full lips and heart-shaped face.
He wanted to memorise every part of her.
He didn’t know how he would carry on after this, knowing that, for a brief moment, he’d had her at his mercy.
Dipping over her torso, he finally lapped at her tits.
Her heels dug into his back as he nestled into her, toying with her nipples until she was arching in pleasure.
She yelped when his teeth scraped sensitive skin, fingers sifting through his hair again.
Every jerk against his scalp left him craving more, craving everything.
“Feels so good,” she murmured. “Don’t stop.”
He didn’t think he could, even if he wanted to.
Until her touch snaked down the nape of his neck, landing at his shoulder. He stilled at the same time she did, blood running cold. He’d hoped to distract her enough that she wouldn’t notice them. Sometimes, it worked. Sometimes, he didn’t need to explain the raised white scars across his back.
Warily, he looked up. Waited for the question. Waited to remember how broken he was, deep down.
But Eiley only said, “Do you want to talk about them or not?”
His heart hammered. Nobody had ever considered him enough to ask that.
He’d been with women who would blurt out, What happened?
or, Those are awful . Some had even stopped touching him, as though the ruin was contagious.
It was enough to make him want to cover them up permanently, or else claw them off his back.
Eiley couldn’t know how kind it was to ask. To not ignore them or push them away, but make space for them. Ask him what he needed.
“Right now,” he said, “not.”
“Okay.” And then she lifted his chin to kiss him again, and he could forget about them. Forget about the scaffolding outside. Forget he was alone.
If they only had so much time together, he would spend every second of it getting lost in her. The rest would wait.