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  “Hey,” he says, reaching back to loosen my arms from around him. I resist. He pulls harder against my vice-like grip. “Don’t hide from me,” he says, tone soft. I don’t want him to see my face. Dane tugs again, I let go, and he leans back a little.

  I look up, but avoid his eyes. Nice collarbones.

  “Stop hiding from me,” he says, again.

  I had no problem with the fact that I was fully bare, and he was only partially, but I now feel more exposed than ever before in my life. I resent that he isn’t naked, physically or emotionally. And I am.

  We’re not equal, and I hate myself for creating the imbalance.

  Reluctantly and not without profound effort – I feel so sick – I raise my gaze to meet his.

  He kisses me once on the lips.

  Silence again, for another eternity.

  His mouth still against mine, he says, “Why does it feel like I’m falling in love with you?”

  My brows pull tight in utter confusion.

  This is crazy. Sex is absolutely not the time for this type of conversation, not with someone like Dane. I’m sitting at the edge of the sofa, legs spread wide, and Dane’s now deflating – no, make that flaccid, cock is inside me. My timing couldn’t have been worse. Where the fuck did my brain go?

  I don’t even understand my feelings for him. One thing’s for sure, I can’t possibly be falling for a man who doesn’t usually do relationships, never mind love.

  Looking down between us, I’m slightly paranoid that the condom will come off inside me when he pulls out. Dane must read my mind because he quickly withdraws and slips off the condom. I actually made him lose his erection. I didn’t think I could feel any worse than I already did. Wrong.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” I held eye contact easily on those words, because they’re true.

  Dane’s brow furrows. “Didn’t mean it? Or didn’t mean to say it?”

  “I don’t want to mean it.” The truth again.

  “But you do?”

  Why isn’t he running for the fucking hills? Or kicking me out of his bloody apartment?

  “I shouldn’t have said it.” I try to close my legs, but it’s impossible because he’s still between them.

  He rubs my thighs slowly. “I feel the same thing,” he says with an expression so earnest.

  “That’s not what you do and you don’t need to say it just because I have.”

  “I probably wouldn’t be saying it if you didn’t, but I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” It looks like he means it.

  Not possible.

  I pause, thinking. I blink a few times. It’s sweet of him to try and spare me this hideous embarrassment. It helps a bit.

  “Okay, this is all quite strange, and really, really awkward timing,” I say.

  “Well, that’s true, but it’s too late to take it back now.”

  “Yes, I know. Okay, um, subject change. Let’s shag.” No thinking, no talking, just mindless fucking.

  He laughs easily. “I’m game,” he says, pulling me against him and moving me down on to the floor, between the sofa and the coffee table. “Since you like my carpet so much, wait right there. I need to get a new condom.” Oh, yeah, mindless fucking on his carpet.

  “Those jeans need to come off,” I call after him.

  No more love talk, no more love talk, no more stupid bloody love talk.

  Twenty One: Dane

  “She’s falling in love with you?” Saffron says, beaming with pleasure and surprise.

  We’re sitting at her breakfast bar. Adam is working and Nathaniel is taking a nap, so it’s just the two of us.

  I nod in answer to her question, because I don’t know what the fuck else to do. Resting my elbows on the table, I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. I look at Saffron. She’s still surprised and now a little worried, and no doubt from my behavior right now. I smile and try to think of something to say to ease the concerns I don’t want her to have. Fuck. Me.

  “You’re not okay with it,” she says, her voice becoming gentle.

  “Not really.”

  “But you said the same thing.”

  “I didn’t want her to feel like shit.”

  She sighs, shaking her head. “That’s not fair, Dane. You shouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t mean it.”

  Saff reaches across the table, taking hold of my hand. “Don’t resist it.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Give it a chance.”

  “I knew it was different with her pretty much from the start, right? It was always gonna be all or nothing with her, and I was cool with the possibility of it coming to that, but no way in hell was I expecting it to get so deep. And damn this is fast.”

  “Brooklyn’s obviously right for you. Don’t try to fight it, Dane.” Her tone is strong and determined, and I can imagine what kind of talks Nathaniel will be getting in the future. God knows, I’m proud of my sister.

  On perfect timing with my thoughts, my nephew starts to cry. Saffron gets up to go to him.

  She comes back to the breakfast bar with Nathaniel in her arms, seated on her hip. The little dude looks blurry eyed with one side of his curly hair flat from lying down.

  “Don’t laugh at my son.” Her brows knit together in genuine disapproval.

  “He looks super cute.” I’m unable to stop smiling.

  “You can do it,” she says, full of certainty.

  “I have to try.”

  Saff gazes adoringly at her boy, who’s starting to look more alert. He yawns, his mouth opening into a wide ‘O’. I find myself doing the same freaking thing into my cupped palm.

  “You’ll be a great dad some day,” she says with an expression that tells me she’s testing for my response to that. I hate it when she switches from nice little sister to annoying little sister, and that’s about to happen now.

  “Nothing’s changed on that front, Saffron. I’m not having kids.”

  “You shouldn’t rule it out. Less than three weeks ago you didn’t even know Brooklyn existed. Now look at you both – almost in love. Does she want children?”

  I pull my attention from Nathaniel and look her in the eyes. “Let’s not focus too heavily on the love thing. As you said, less than three weeks ago we didn’t even know each other existed.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” she says, intentionally evading my gaze. Instead, she’s running her fingers through Nathaniel’s loose, light brown curls.

  “We haven’t spoken about it – why would we? We’ve only been together three days. This could all be over in weeks. I don’t even know how long she’ll be in the U.S. for, so don’t go getting ideas.”

  I only came to talk about this because I needed to get it out of my head, and Saff and I always discuss issues with each other. It’s two days on since Brooklyn said what she said and we’ve both done a great job of acting like it never happened, but it’s remained firmly on my mind. Spending time with Brooklyn, getting to know her, was easy. Moving into a relationship with her felt natural and it was the only option, because as long as she was in San Francisco I’d have wanted her and there was no middle ground between platonic friends and being fully together. Not only because she wouldn’t have accepted that, but because, for the first time in years, I didn’t want as little as that.

  I didn’t want Brooklyn just to be some chick I fucked.

  Love is too much.

  Other emotions that I don’t want are coming to the surface with it; they’re the price I pay for feeling this way. I don’t fucking want any of it, and I had no intention of doing this thing with Brooklyn more than one day at a damn time.

  “Say what you like, Dane, this is it for you. Don’t forget I’ve known you my entire thirty-two years.”

  “Listen, I’ve got to go, Brooklyn’s due over.” This conversation needs to stop, the direction it’s taken is far off what I came for.

  “Look a
t that, your fourth night in a row. You two are eager.”

  “Your son is present, so I won’t respond the way I’d like to.”

  “Whatever. Just relax, go with it, and don’t over-think things. You’ve always been way too much of a thinker. Enjoy your new relationship, and things will be perfect. You deserve this, big brother. Now come and kiss your nephew goodbye.”

  Lying on the sofa alongside Brooklyn, I can’t decide whether I’ve done the right thing getting with her. There are so many thoughts in my head right now I can’t decipher them individually, they’re all tangled with emotions I had come to think I wasn’t even capable of. I can’t figure out why she’s gotten to me on a deeper level, and so fast, things would be a lot easier for me if that wasn’t the case.

  The only thing I’m sure of is that I can’t hurt her, so I have to try.

  Brooklyn’s on her back with her head turned the way of the TV. I’m on my side and the only thing I’m watching is her. Together like this, we fit the sofa just right.

  We seem to fit each other just right, too.

  An alarm on Brooklyn’s cell sounds and she reaches for it on the coffee table to turn it off. She searches inside her purse on the floor and then puts something in her mouth.

  “What was that?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  Returning to her previous position, she looks at me. “The pill.”

  “You’re on the pill?”

  “Yeah, I have been since I was sixteen. I like knowing exactly when my period will be and that I can avoid it altogether if I need to. Plus, I was always massively paranoid about an unwanted pregnancy, so I wanted taking it to be a normal everyday habit. I had to change the time I take it since leaving the UK, so I need my alarm to remind me now.”

  “Okay.”

  As she continues watching the show that’s on, I stir on this new information with interest. Interest I wouldn’t have expected to have. The only woman I ever had sex without a condom with was my girlfriend, Nadine, way back. Regardless of whether they said they were taking birth control, I was never willing to put that degree of trust in someone that I’d take them without additional protection. Not only to avoid anything sexually transmitted, but no way on earth was I chancing a pregnancy.

  I almost can’t resist the idea of taking Brooklyn without that latex barrier between us. Feel her flesh-to-flesh and come inside her. Those thoughts are making me hard already.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  Brooklyn’s focus is still on the TV, and mine isn’t coming back from where it’s gone, even though I’m trying to pull it back. I have to do this. I have to take her and it be just the two of us.

  Brooklyn’s gaze swings to mine when I open the button on her loose-fitting jeans. I lower the zipper and slide my hand into her panties, over the subtle strip of hair and in between her lips. I’m trying to talk myself out of this, because all I can sense is us getting deep, really fast, and doing what I want to do right now will only take us deeper.

  As her soft walls encase my finger, I know I have to feel her bare around my cock. I can’t seem to make myself fight it.

  “Do you trust me?” I ask.

  The nod she responds with is slight, but her eyes tell me she’s certain. Only she knows how truthful she’s being and that depends on what she thinks I mean by my question. Really, what I’m asking is whether she trusts me enough to let me take her without a condom.

  Here, tonight, right now.

  I know she can. And I trust her, I know she’s wise – this wouldn’t even be a consideration if I didn’t believe that. The only risk I’d be taking is an emotional one, which is a big deal, but I can’t reflect on that right now.

  All I can concentrate on is how much I want this.

  The pleasure Brooklyn’s expression holds takes away any final trace of reason. I remove my hand from her panties and reach for the remote control, hitting the power button. After climbing over her, to get off the sofa, I scoop her up in my arms and head to the bedroom.

  I lay her down on the bed and turn on the side light.

  Once I have us naked, I lie over Brooklyn, supporting myself on my forearms, and lower my hips down in between her thighs. I love the feel of her bare and beneath me; slight and fragile, yet strong and durable at the same time. When I kiss her, Brooklyn tilts her hips to press her pussy against me. I look down into her heavy-lidded eyes. “You can trust me, but tell me if it’s not what you want, okay?”

  She gazes at me, curiously. With my hand, I guide the tip of my dick in place, without making contact, and wait. Brooklyn looks down between us, in recognition. Her gaze returning to mine, she pulls on my hips. Slowly, I press forward until her – oh shit – slick folds part for the head of my cock. Fuck. Her entrance grasps me so tightly, a surge of sensation striking me. She’s so damn divine. I continue until I’m completely enclosed by her, all warm and compliant. I become motionless. “You okay?”

  “Yes,” she says and the soft, aroused sound of her voice is added stimuli I really don’t need right now. “You can trust me, too.”

  “I know.”

  With steady thrusts, the moist ridges of her passage caress my shaft. Taking Brooklyn with a condom was insane, she’s got the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had the privilege of finding myself buried in. Now, without that latex barrier, I feel like a damn virgin. Keeping the depth shallow and resisting the urge to go faster, so I can gain some control and avoid coming in the next sixty fucking seconds, I fight against the almost overpowering stimulation.

  Brooklyn’s gentle sighs and tender moans are like the greatest music to my ears, adding to the sensory overload. But hell if it doesn’t make me more determined to last. Her legs wrap around my waist, she strokes my back and catches my bottom lip between her teeth. She’s really not making things easy for me.

  When I feel myself on the verge, in perfect timing, the spasms around my cock along with the nails pressing into my triceps and the beautiful, beautiful sound of Brooklyn by my ear tell me she’s right there too.

  As the tension in Brooklyn’s body goes, I speed up with longer, slightly harder thrusts. I’m so close, but something more dominant than my physical reactions intervenes.

  In the final moment, I pull out and come all over her lower tummy, biting back my angry curse. What the fuck was I thinking?

  I’m caught up in too many feelings to focus on them singularly, but one thing’s for sure, the usual ecstasy associated with climax isn’t first in line. My cheek to Brooklyn’s, I am so pissed at myself I can’t even look at her.

  “Um … if that was part of the plan–”

  “It wasn’t,” I cut in. Fucking shit.

  “Okay, I’m not sure what your problem is,” Brooklyn says, her tone low but hard, “but you obviously have no concerns about catching something from me, or you wouldn’t have just had sex with me without a condom. Just so you know, and I really do want you to know this, it wasn’t a decision I took lightly. For that reason I’m not happy with the way this just ended. I can assure you I do everything in my power to avoid getting pregnant, so if that’s what you’re worried about, you can leave the worrying to me.”

  I want to say something, explain myself, but that means saying I got scared.

  That means sharing things about me I don’t want to share.

  “Can you get off me, I need to clean up.” She pushes against my chest.

  Now I force myself up enough to look down at her face. Hell, as hard as her gaze is, I can see she’s hurt. I’m the ass of all fucking asses. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to do that. Let me clean you up.”

  “No thanks, I’ll do it myself.” She’s still pissed and pushes harder, so I move away.

  She gets up and heads across to the bathroom. The door closes and locks, and no doubt Brooklyn Scott hates the hell out of me from the other side. On this side, as I lay staring at the door between us, I become clear about one thing – one emotion, among all my chaotic, fucked up thoughts a
nd feelings.

  And it’s the complete opposite of hate.

  Twenty Two: Brooklyn

  I’m free until tonight’s show, so I’m going to visit Dane at work. I wanted to see his shop properly, and he was more than happy to let me. I’m intrigued. He doesn’t generally work on a Saturday, but there were some finishing touches that needed to be done to a chopper. My knowledge of motorcycles is zero, and I never saw myself being with a man who rides.

  The weather is gorgeous today, so I’m rocking a tight, mid-thigh length, black and white striped halter dress and strappy wedge sandals. My white-framed sunglasses on and my hair down, I feel good. No, I feel fan-fucking-tastic.

  I walk the short distance from my apartment to the shop. Arriving at the second entrance, as advised by Dane, I see him and two other men gathered around a sleek, silver and black motorcycle. It’s not like a typical bike; it’s long and low with the front wheel extended farther forward than the standard types. It looks like something Batman would ride.

  This thorough peek into Dane’s Work-World is fascinating. The shop is large and divided into two parts. The left side, where he and his colleagues are, is clearly the workshop. It’s spacious with tools and objects I’m unfamiliar with hanging from the walls and on shelves.

  The other side of the building is the shop floor, which I’ve obviously visited before. It holds various brands of motorcycles and accessories. It’s so bright and shiny, classy. Staff members are scattered about the place, carrying out various tasks.

  As I approach, it’s as though Dane senses me. He looks in my direction, his lips quickly shifting up at the corners. I smile back, feeling slightly shy. It’s only because of the other two men with him, and another nearby. There’s just the one female staff member, the same blonde, and these guys are typical males, they’re looking, wondering and inspecting me. Their interest switches to curious when Dane starts walking to me.

  I raise my glasses up to rest them on top of my head as Dane gets closer. Taking me by the hand, he leads me deeper into the workshop and gives me a full tour, introducing me to everyone we encounter. The two guys he was with when I arrived are Eric, his business partner, and Greg, the technician. I also get to meet Malachi, the artist.