Bethany rubbed her nose with her fist, brushing her hair from her face before burying her cheek in that sexy smell of musk and spice that reminded her of Drake.

Her eyes fluttered open.

She was inside her bedroom, the blinds still closed against the cloudy day’s light.

She groaned. The migraine was still kicking her ass but it wasn’t as bad as the night before. It lay in wait between her shoulder and her right eye like a prankster on April Fool’s Day. She needed her medication. That would ease the migraine until it surrendered and burrowed in her subconscious. But at the moment she didn’t want to leave the bed. She just wanted to burrow in this comfortable balminess. Sure, she sometimes lolled in bed while it was still early and she’d get up eventually. This time…

Her arm curled around something hard yet soft. It went up and down and she felt a few strands of her hair on her crown blowing in the non-existent breeze, unless…

Drake.

It was his chest that her arm was wrapped around, his breath that blew against her hair. Her eyes lowered. Her leg was over his thigh, soft flesh over hard muscle.

Beside the telltale bulge in his slacks.

Bethany’s mouth watered and she swallowed. Her sex clenched at the hunger burning low in her belly. How many times had she imagined this happening to her with Drake? It had been wishful thinking on her part all these years. When her innocence was cruelly taken away from her, she thought that she would never recover. Then she plunged headlong onto the path that those who had gone before her would not have taken in a million years. She threw herself into the world of men, of lust.

She had found freedom there. It was fleeting but it was freedom nonetheless. Could it have been a portent of things happening between her and Drake?

Because right now, she liked what she saw, liked what she touched. Drake was well built: broad shoulders, a muscular chest and a stomach of hard, angular planes. He had the body of a fighter.

“Done looking?” Drake’s deep voice rumbled against her cheek. Bethany stiffened. He did a slow exhale. “C’mon Bee. I know you’re awake.”

Her eyes closed in bliss when the arm around her sent delicious trails up and down her back. She let out a long breath. God, she wished she could stay like this all day.

“Good morning.” Drake kissed her crown.

She winced.

“Shit,” Drake blew under his breath. “Still bad?”

“A little.” She closed her eyes, her head puckering. She willed the monster away but it refused. “Medicine…bedside table.”

“Okay,” he said. “I need to lift my arm from under you, unless you want to roll to the other side.”

“You can lift your arm. Rolling away is just going to make me throw up.” Bethany gritted. She braced herself, clamping down on her lips when Drake eased his arm and the bed moved. She was grateful Drake didn’t just jump from the bed.

“I’ll get you water. Be right back.”

Bethany could only moan. Her head was locked in a vice that was about to pulverize her skull.

Please hurry.

The movement in the air was the first sign that Drake had returned. Bethany’s eyes opened to slits. Drake had opened the bottle of her prescription meds.

“How many?”

“Please don’t shout.”

“Not shouting, sweetheart. Only whispering,” he said patiently. “How many?”

“Two.”

The bed dipped and Mr Bloody Migraine rolled back into her head.

“Drake,” she whimpered.

“A little bit more, Bee. I’m going to sit you up so you can take the meds okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice was cracking.

The sweetest liquid flowed in a smooth waterfall down her throat taking with it the much needed pills that would blow her migraine to kingdom come—until it patched itself up like Humpty Dumpty trying to secure the wall with its egg shaped ass.

Drake laid her down gently once more.

“Bee, I need to remove my arm again underneath your neck.”

“Drake?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I’m not fragile.” She sighed. “I’m not going to crack because of some stupid migraine.”

“You’re welcome.”

She opened one eye about to apologise for being a bitch. But Drake had a sardonic grin.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh…” He kissed her forehead. “Get some more sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” She opened both eyes, searching his face with as much care as her migraine would allow.

“I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Drake had his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together while he watched Bethany sleep. Back then Bethany already suffered from migraines but it disappeared the next day. From the looks of it, her migraine had gotten worse.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned back, thighs wide. An overwhelming need to let Bethany sleep in his arms filled him. Her wrinkled brow smoothed out the deeper she slept, until it was gone and left her lips in a slight pout. He badly wanted to slip into bed with her, just to keep her by his side and let her warmth soothe the demons he still kept inside. He’d allow her this reprieve. After the stress of her father being in hospital and her working in a club…

He scowled. Of all the jobs Bethany had to take, it was to dance in front of a lot of horny men. His jealousy made him say hurtful things and he cringed in his seat. But seriously, why a gentleman’s club?

Why not?

He flicked the bird at his conscience. Like it or not, he was going to have a word with Bethany about her dancing. If she had a contract, he’d buy it. No way was his girl going to be ogled by other men. Bastards, the lot of them.

Like you.

His phone rang and he immediately left the room before the ring tone woke up Bethany. He looked at the caller ID. He grinned.

“Cray, back from the honeymoon?”

“Not yet. Enjoying every minute of it.” Oliver Cray chuckled and sobered right away. “Heard about the mess you’re in.”

Shit.

“Bryce told you.” Drake rubbed his forehead. “Honestly, mate, he should have kept is bloody mouth shut. Luke shouldn’t have given you something to think about other than Felicity.”

“He didn’t call me.” Oliver corrected. “Lissie wanted to let her brother know that we were enjoying his gift.”

“And?”

“And Luke let it slip.”

“So Luke did tell you.” Drake emphasised.

“Rosen, if you ask my opinion, I’m with Luke here,” Oliver said. “I’m not comfortable letting someone else buy your loft no matter the clusterfuck. How much do you need? I can shore up some funds.”

“No fucking way, Cray.” Drake’s voice was tight. He heard the sound of ocean waves in the distance. “I appreciate the offer. I really do. But this clusterfuck is mine to deal with. I’ll sort it out.”

“Your call,” Oliver replied. “Know that the offer stands and if we all put this to a vote, I’d still vote against you selling.”

Drake stared at the garden thoughtfully. “While we’re at it, I think you might be able to help me with something.”

“That’s more like it.” Drake heard Oliver’s smile in his tone. “What do you need?”

Half an hour later, Drake ended the call, feeling much better since the entire debacle began.

He went to the kitchen, made himself coffee and helped himself to more of Cora’s cookies. The house was so quiet while Bethany slept, Drake could hear himself think.

He had to admit that Oliver knowing what had happened took a load of his chest. If there was anyone capable of unearthing dirt on people, it would be Oliver Cray. And if Andrew wanted to fight dirty, Drake would bring the whole garbage dump, complete with methane gas to the table.

He washed his mug and cleaned out the crumbs from the table, his mouth twitching. This was what he used to do in the old house.

Some things never changed.

When he returned to the room, Bethany had rolled to the other side, giving Drake a show of her perky ass. He inhaled deeply ordering his wayward dick to stand down and his pulse to slacken. He placed his phone beside Bethany’s on the bedside table and lay on the bed. As though his body was a magnet, Bethany rolled back to his side, snuggling deeper into his side. Drake kissed her crown and smiled.

He could really get used to this.

 

* * *

 

Bethany woke, surprised Drake stayed with her. It was a good kind of surprise that had her mouth curving up and hope pushing her pessimistic thoughts to the back of her mind.

“Hey” Drake’s husky voice rumbled under her ear.

“Hey.” She ran her hand up and down his chest, the years between them falling away. She yawned.

“Feeling better?”

She did an internal head scan. The migraine had eased. It still remained on the edge of her mind but it wasn’t rearing its ugly face any time soon.

She nodded. “Thanks.”

She wished that she could stay like this way into the night. She was so tired of adulting and wanted to stay in bed with Drake, just cuddling, even if she wanted to jump his bones.

But the meeting with Cinzia punched into her consciousness and forced her to get up. Her forehead creased at reality’s intrusion. Breathing out, she moved away.

“Hey wait.” A steel band encircled her waist, gently pulling her back against Drake’s body.

And hard cock.

Her already-moist sex squeezed hard. Drake moved and Bethany closed her eyes at the hardness rubbing between her ass cheeks.

“Drake…” She pulled at his arm without much effort, her body still relishing Drake’s warmth. “I have to get up.”

“I’m already up, Bee.”

She shivered at Drake’s breath against her ear before his hand spread over her belly pushing her further into him. Her sex took notice of the hard ridge against her ass, clenching as though Drake was already inside her.

Drake kissed her cheek and bit her earlobe before sucking the pain away. She angled her head to give him more access to her neck. Drake dragged the cloth down to put a gentle kiss. Bethany bit her lip in frustration. That was hardly enough. Her body writhed, her heart danced, and her soul opened to the possibilities she buried a long time ago.

“Baby, you’re killing me,” Drake groaned.

She wished reason moved away, just this once. She burned from a long unanswered need. From a hunger that was alien to what she was used to.

Just a little. Let me taste just a little.

She sank against Drake, sighing when her mind quieted and gave her some respite.

Didn’t he say you paraded your body to every cock, dick, and penis?

Mental water boarding sure made a cruel wake up call.

She bolted upright to suck in air.

“What the—”

She stiffened, so sure her migraine was going to give her head another whacking. It remained in the fringes of her consciousness. She twisted looking at Drake’s bewilderment.

“I really have to go.” She trundled out of bed. “I need to let Mum know, plus I have a meeting with Cinzia.”

Her lips flattened when she saw several missed calls from her friend. She texted a reply back.

“That what?” Drake rested against his elbows. “That you had to leave? Fine, I don’t see any problem with that.”

Exasperation punched out of her chest as she stood, putting her phone back on the table. She opened her mouth to speak then shook her head, leaving Drake in her bed. His hair tousled from sleep, his stubble making him undeniably sexy, and his erection tenting his pants was good enough for her to eat him for breakfast. Correction: make that brunch. No. Tea. A thrill whistled through her at seeing him so relaxed like he belonged in her bed.

Beside her.

Above her.

Inside her.

Her teeth clamped over her lips to stop herself from making a sound.

The heat from his gaze penetrated even the cold places she didn’t know resided in her. Her heart thawed. No need for a wrecking ball to crack the wall of her resolve. Her throat thickened, her mouth watered again at what her mind showed her—naked bodies, mouths satisfying hungers, bodies melting and legs entwined until Drake pushed through the barriers she built, to claim her for himself.

She swore her body was going to combust if Drake kept look at her with so much hunger in his eyes. If his gaze heated up a notch she’d probably come right where she stood. She held on to sanity by a frayed thread, looked away and almost screeched at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Her eyes widened in horror. Her smudged mascara and eye liner, the telltale smudge of her lipstick over her cheek was enough for her to think she was turning into part zombie and part Joker.

Oh…my…God.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled, rushing to the bathroom.

“Bethany!”

She slammed the door and locked it. “Give me a minute!” Holy shit.

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror again, mortified. She turned on the tap, dowsing her face before squeezing a bit of facial cleanser on her palm.

“How long are you going to hide inside there?” Drake’s voice hinted laughter.

She stopped making concentric circles with her lathered hands and huffed, scowling. “Who says I’m hiding? I’m washing my face!”

“Even if you streaked your face with commando paint and hid in a rain forest, all I have to do is find the rarest and most beautiful orchid. That would be you, baby.”

She groaned, biting her bottom lip to stop her smile from breaking. Rinsing her face with water had the double purpose of taking the suds and cooling the flush from her cheeks. Giddiness was a host of honey bees coating her heart and soul with Drake’s words.

“Drake?”

“Yeah?” His voice was very close.

“Shut up.”

“I need the bathroom too.”

“Use the one downstairs!” If Drake entered, she wouldn’t know what to do.

His sexy laugh made her lips curve in response at the same time forging a path of yearning from the centre of her chest to enter her veins in a languid caress. Hell, even the door vibrated with Drake’s rumble.

She felt like the young girl Drake had vowed to protect. The anticipation of seeing him in school had been enough to lighten her steps and even the cruel taunts faded as long as she knew Drake was nearby.

She eyed her reflection critically. Her eyes shone despite the remnants of her messy make up. Her pale cheeks were flushed and her mouth…the memory of Drake’s lips of hers made her want more.

She shed her clothes and set her hearing aid to one side of the sink before entering the shower. The warm water striped away the weariness of the day before. She paused. Did Drake know how to cook? He always had a big appetite. She should have made him breakfast first, should have gone down with her racoon eyes and—

What the hell was she thinking?

Bethany lifted her face to the shower. Like that would remove all thoughts of Drake from her mind. She braced her hands against the wall and hung her head.

She had to stop thinking of Drake as though he was the same person of her past. She didn’t owe him anything, and he didn’t owe her. Well, save for helping her with her father. Bethany was grateful he had taken her home. That was all there was to it. A time with friends with possible benefits, nothing more.

Keep telling that to yourself.

She enjoyed feeling Drake nearby, inhaling his smell. Feeling the strength she sensed under her palms. Her breath blew against the shower’s steam. Desire infused her body and her sex pooled.

A hollow ache settled in the centre of her chest. Thinking about the past was becoming an obsession when it came to Drake. A stupid obsession. Lying down beside him on her bed made her wish things had been different. That both of them had a chance of kindling a flame snuffed out all too soon.

Her life’s trajectory had changed almost two years after Drake disappeared from her life. But what she thought was the end of who she was, actually allowed her to explore her sexuality. It was something she didn’t believe could happen nor expected.

She finished her shower feeling more human and brushed her teeth in the nude. Steam escaped the moment she opened the door. She wrapped a towel around her body and squeezed out the excess water in her hair with another. She inhaled smelling the coffee coming from below. Her mouth quirked. At least Drake could make coffee.

She gasped mid-step.

Drake was leaning against the banister, one arm across his chest and the other holding a demitasse. His eyes raked her from head to foot then back again and looked like he wanted to devour her where she stood.

Bethany’s body flushed with heat at his naked appreciation. She swallowed, her heart thumping an erratic beat. Drake’s hunger only reminded her of what she missed.

And what she had lost.

“That mine or yours?” She nudged her chin at the demitasse, keeping a tight rein on the desire ricocheting from her heart to her belly and to the needy flesh between her thighs.

Drake’s lips kicked up in a sexy grin.

“Want it? Take it.”

Bethany’s breath was left suspended between them as excitement rolled through her in a slow burn. Walking towards Drake would be like walking towards the centre of an active volcano. He was igniting a flame that was all consuming. Allowing her a taste of something unreachable, unattainable. Touching something of her lost soul.

One demitasse spelled the difference between getting a glimpse of heaven or remaining on this side of hell to keep the man she longed for safe from her sins. Her heart begged. Even her mind agreed.

Her soul kept silent.

She bit the side of her bottom lip. Oh the possibilities Drake was giving her with that smouldering look and a steaming cup of espresso. It might just be her new favourite thing. If her heart and soul could take it, then her mind would buffer whatever disappointment accrued from the fall out.

Besides, pain didn’t touch the broken. There were no more pieces to shatter.

Two steps and Bethany bridged the gap. The droplets of water from her hair trailed down the heated skin of her shoulders. Her fingers curled into the towel covering her while the gap opened to show a bare thigh all the way to her hip.

Drake’s eyes resembled melted dark amber searing her with the emotion within. His broad chest rose when he inhaled, his jaw clenched when she neared, his body heat scorched the air between them. His face was a mask of desire and hunger that matched hers. Bethany’s heart tripped. Her bones seemed to liquefy under his gaze. At the back of her mind there was a sliver of a wish that what she saw in Drake’s eyes was deeper than just the need to fuck.

She took the espresso and sipped. Black with a hint of sweetness, just the way she liked it. That surprised her.

“How did you know?” Pleasure curled with the faint steam from the cup.

He smirked. “An espresso machine with sugar beside it and nothing else? Wild guess. I noticed that the last time I was here.” Drake trailed a finger across her collarbone to the swell of her breasts. The somewhat rough pad of his finger against her damp skin made her shudder. “Dark and sweet. I like dark and sweet. Are you the same?”

Bethany’s body tingled further.

She grinned. “You want it? Take it.”

Drake chuckled showing a crescent of pearly whites.

“Really?” His hands on her waist pulled her closer, his nose moving in to inhale her. “You smell so fucking nice, Bee.”

She tutted. “That name again.”

His eyes ran down her body lazily. “You can always take it out of my mouth again. I sure as hell will take what you offer.” His voice dipped to a murmur. “Should have taken it a long time ago.”

Guilt skidded along her breastbone. She pushed it away.

“Now’s your chance to do so,” she said, her voice soft.

Drake’s smile vanished. His hand cupped her face, his thumb sliding against her cheek before rubbing her lips. Bethany opened her mouth and sucked the digit while looking up at him. Carnal pleasure burned his irises to a deep dark gold. She met Drake half way when he bent down, his thumb still in her mouth before he removed it as his tongue took over. She smelled the coffee and a hint of mint on his breath. The kiss was no longer the tantalizing brush of his soft but firm lips against softer ones but the heady possession of her mouth. It was no longer the rubbing of skin on skin for friction but the primal understanding of two bodies meant to climax together. And it was no longer the tongue begging entrance but the open welcome into the inner recesses of her being.

She was dizzy and had to grab hold of Drake while he kissed her, expertly, deeply. He bit, nibbled, slid his tongue against hers whipping her body into a frenzy of need beyond what she knew. He moved, she followed wanting more, yearning for more, moaning against him because she ached.

She couldn’t hold the demitasse any longer and as though sensing her weakening, Drake stopped his sensual onslaught, took the china from her fingers and pulled her gently back to her room. Bethany’s body heated with expectation, anticipation. Her pulse beat against her throat, temples, under one eye. Her hand still clutched the towel tight around her. Her heart hammered a discordant beat and heightened her awareness of what was yet to come.

Here we go.