in her eyes.
‘Just because I accept your apology doesn’t mean I’m ready to forgive all your transgressions.’ She tilts her pelvis and crushes my dick with her soft belly, bringing me back to life.
I grin; press a kiss to her irresistible mouth. ‘I’m happy to pay for my crimes—there must be something you want in recompense.’ I slide my hands over her hips and cup her arse, pressing her forward to increase the friction.
‘Hmm...’ She pretends to think, her eyes dancing. ‘There might be one thing... But I’m not sure you’re up to the job, being so old and set in your ways.’
My laughter blasts from me, draining any residual doubt. She’s incredible—generous and caring and fearless. ‘Well, if anyone can keep me on my toes, it’s you. Why don’t you give me a shot? There are worse ways to die than from pleasure.’
Malicious delight fills her expression. ‘Who said anything about pleasure, especially yours?’ Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she grinds against my now hard cock, her actions contradicting her threats. ‘I think your transgressions require a forfeit.’
Excitement pumps my blood harder, so I’m ready to give her anything. I was the minute she left the hotel without looking back. ‘What’s the forfeit?’ I’m not used to handing over control and I’m sure I won’t like it. But my blood pounds in case I fucking love it.
‘The driver’s seat.’ She gives me no time to absorb her words before she spins, tugging me behind her towards my house. I sling my arm around her shoulder, caging her to my side while my mind sifts through her possible meanings. Does she want to tie me up? Blindfold me? Do I care? Any fantasy of hers is okay by me, because she’s honest about what she wants.
But before I get carried away, I have more I want to say.
‘Thank you.’ I squeeze her closer, hoping she reads my heartfelt gratitude. ‘For the chess. For playing along again. I’m sure it’s upsetting that Graham seems to have forgotten how he knows you.’ At her small shrug, I drag us to another standstill and kiss her again, trying to banish the slightly lost expression from her eyes. I linger over kiss after kiss until the atmosphere lifts, in no hurry to get home. She’ll have to have her wicked way with me in the road. But all too soon we resume our walk.
‘How did you know he played?’ My father taught all three of us to play, stating it fostered healthy competition without risk of coming to blows, although we Faulkner brothers managed to throw a few of those back when we settled things with our fists.
‘We played at a Hoteliers Association conference I attended with my dad back in the days he thought I’d simply join the family business instead of pursuing my own dreams—not that there’s anything wrong with family businesses, of course. Graham was there too. One day, he spied me sulking in a corner somewhere, challenged me to a game and then happily thrashed me. I always respected him more for not letting me win, and of course for taking the time to coax a moody teenager out of herself.’
Her tale is bittersweet, reminding me of the powerhouse Graham has always been, and how much I’ve relied on his always being so. ‘He always wanted a daughter, I think.’
Blair’s arm tightens around my waist. ‘You’re really concerned about him, aren’t you? Are things worse than you’ve let on?’
‘The honest answer is I just don’t know, but we’re all concerned. He has an appointment with the Harley Street specialist this week. Hopefully we’ll know more about his prognosis then.’ But I don’t want to think about the future, about how a man I’ve always looked up to and relied upon may change, diminish before my eyes.
‘That’s good. I believe there are medications that can slow down the progression of dementia. And my father hasn’t said a word, so perhaps only those closest to him are aware of the changes.’
‘Thank you for saying that. For everything. I never realised just how close you two were.’
We walk the rest of the way in silence, perhaps each lost to our memories of the good old days when Graham was the rock, full of wisdom, sage advice and readily given support.
And, where only minutes ago I was certain Blair would be gone from my life as quickly as she’d entered it, it now feels like she’s always been a part of our tight-knit little circle, and perhaps always should be.
Reid
THE MINUTE WE enter the house she spins and backs me up against the front door, until she’s pressed against me, shoulder to thigh. I’m already hard because I’ve anticipated that the minute we touch, my doubts, my fears, the need to fix something out of my control will settle, the tension of stupidly almost losing her draining away.
She deserves better than me, better than an older, cynical, set-in-his-ways bachelor. She’s bravery to my caution, laughter to my cynicism, sunshine and smiles and a hundred other fucking feel-good clichés, and one day, when she’s ready, she’ll move on to a relationship she deserves, perhaps marriage.
The thought sours my tongue but I swallow it down. I’ve had my shot and I’m on the slippery slope to forty. But by some miracle she’s still here, willing to forgive me, albeit with a forfeit in mind, one I’m only too happy to pay.
‘This time I’m calling the shots, my hands on the steering wheel—is that too challenging for you?’ she whispers against my lips, her hips undulating so she’s massaging my dick between our bodies with every move.
‘You can steer this, as long as I can dictate the number of times I make you come.’ It kills me, but I keep my hands hanging by my sides, when everything inside me fights to touch her, to make things right between us the only way I know how. But I want her to know I’m in this. That I can keep my promise, keep the sex separate, even if the demarcation, at least for me, blurs a little.
Her eyes flare and I want to start straight away, to chalk up an orgasm tally so long she loses the strength to walk. ‘Okay, but this time we’ll be banishing a few ghosts.’
‘You know where the bedroom is.’ My voice turns husky with the need strangling me, and it takes every ounce of control I possess to keep still.
‘Hmm, that sounds kind of...middle-aged.’ She grips the belt loops on my jeans and tugs my hips, dragging our lower halves impossibly closer. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me. I see confirmation in her eyes, which dance with excitement and something wicked, something pure Blair—challenge.
‘So what exactly did you have in mind?’ If she stokes the fire in me any higher, we’re going to burn ourselves clear through the door.
‘I want to live out my sofa fantasy.’ She doesn’t wait for my response, merely takes my hand and drags me down the hallway and into the living room.
‘You have a sofa fantasy?’ I tilt my head in the direction of the cream sectional sofa that dominates this room. ‘Not that I’m complaining—there are six pieces of upholstered furniture in this house and I’m happy to abuse each and every one of them for you, but didn’t we cover that with the chesterfield in my office?’
‘Humour me.’ She releases my hand and inches closer to the
