Dahlia Rose McGregor’s List of Rules for an Effective Short-Term Fling (STF)
| RULE 1—Absolutely! Do NOT! Fall in love! | |
| RULE 2—No cuddling. | |
| RULE 3—Don’t leave anything behind. Keep your clothes in your own closet! | |
| RULE 4—No sleepovers. | |
| RULE 5—No meaningful postcoital conversation. | |
| RULE 6—Do not introduce to family (too late!). | |
| RULE 7—No gifts given or received. | |
| RULE 8—When it’s over, it’s over. | |
| RULE 9—No regrets or shame. |
“Good morning,” Lia greeted Sam with a bright smile when he came downstairs the following morning. He looked exhausted, and she figured they had probably overdone it the night before. The man was recovering from some pretty horrific injuries, and while he had performed admirably last night, four times had perhaps been a bit extreme.
“Hey.” He nodded, grabbing a long wooden spoon and inserting the end of it between his cast and his wrist. His eyes practically rolled back in his head when he reached the itch that had been bothering him. “God, I can’t wait for this fucking thing to come off!”
“When is your doctor’s appointment?” she asked. He dragged the spoon out and dropped it on the table before sitting down and looking at her.
“Next week. Wednesday or Thursday.”
“I need to know exactly where and when so that I can rearrange my schedule,” she said, dropping a coffee in front of him. He groaned appreciatively and hooked his palm around the mug to drag it closer. He inhaled deeply, just savoring the aroma for a long moment before lifting it to take a sip. He opened his eyes and met hers over the rim of the mug.
“Your coffee is the best,” he complimented, and she smiled. His gaze raked over her, going from her sensible beige kitten-heeled Mary Janes, up over her legs, farther up over the knee-length skirt of her pink gingham dress. It was a simple, strappy dress with a sweetheart neckline and small buttons all the way down the front, from neck to hem. She’d combined it with one of her favorite lacy white cardigans.
“You look pretty,” he observed, and she dropped her gaze. His words made her feel shy and a bit self-conscious.
“Thank you.” She picked up a damp cloth and started wiping down kitchen surfaces, busywork to keep her hands occupied. “I see you’ve managed to dress yourself today.”
He glanced down at himself and grinned unrepentantly.
“I figured I was busted.”
“So busted,” she said with a mock glare. “So what was the point of the shirt sham?”
“Shirt sham? I like that,” he said with a chuckle. “I wanted to make you hot for me. And I thought if you got to see my pecs and abs every day, you’d start throwing yourself at me.”
“Pecs and abs?” she scoffed, trying to hide her smile. “In case it’s escaped your notice, you’re as thin as the proverbial rail at the moment.”
“Wow, does my fragile male ego mean nothing to you, woman?” he asked woefully, and she rolled her eyes. “I’ll have you know, my manly form is making a comeback thanks to your smashing meals.”
“Good to know,” she said, unable to fight the smile any longer. “Then you’d better eat up.”
She placed his full English breakfast on the table in front of him, and he looked down with an expectant grin. The smile faded abruptly and Lia looked at his plate, wondering if there was a hair in his food or some other bit of nastiness that she hadn’t noticed.
Sam stared down at his perfectly delicious-looking, perfectly ordinary plate of food. No faces or flowers this morning. Just two eggs, bacon, mushrooms, sausages, and toast. For a second he wondered if she was upset with him over something, but then he remembered his dickishness of the previous morning. She was just giving him what he’d demanded—edible food without any pointless, pretty fripperies.
And yet . . . he felt ripped off. He didn’t understand why he felt that way, and he damned well didn’t like it.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, and he blinked and forced a smile.
“Yes, this looks marvelous,” he enthused, stabbing his fork into a mushroom with more force than was necessary. Some stupid, irrational part of him wondered what she would have created for him if he hadn’t ranted at her yesterday and felt bereft that he would never know the answer.
The food was amazing as always, and he savored every bite, watching her while she bustled around and cleaned the room. She looked fresh and lovely this morning. Not at all like a woman who’d only gotten about four hours’ sleep and had spent most of the previous night thrusting away on top of him.
The memory of her riding his cock so damned beautifully made his throat dry, and the appendage in question hardened painfully. She had her back to him and her hands in soapy water. Sam got up and stalked toward her until he was directly behind her, his crotch just above her tight, round butt. His left hand went to her hip and pulled her firmly back against him.
“What time are we leaving?” he asked, bringing his mouth to her ear.
“We c-can leave anytime we like. It’s just the animal shelter today.”
“I want to fuck you,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Right here. Right now.”
“Ye-es.” The word trembled out of her mouth on a soft sigh and he nipped her earlobe before dragging the skirt of her dress up over her thighs and then over her peachy little bum. He groaned when he caught sight of the plain white panties. His hand roughly yanked the soft cotton garment down her thighs, leaving her lush, already damp nudity completely revealed to his gaze.
“Move to the island,” he commanded hoarsely, and she obeyed without question. The movement lacked grace, but they both stumbled from the sink to the island, Sam steering her with his hand. When they reached their destination, he placed the flat of his hand gently between her shoulder blades and guided her down, until she was leaning over the island, her cheek resting on the back of one hand while the other curled over the front edge of the countertop.
She didn’t say a word, merely waited, and he sucked in a breath at the picture she made. Prim, perfect Lia McGregor bent over the kitchen counter, dress hiked up, legs spread, and panties pooled around one ankle, ready and waiting for his cock.
Sam groaned, unable to go another second without being inside her. He was wearing track pants with an elasticized waist, and he shoved them down to his hips without any problem. He’d had the forethought to put a condom in his pocket that morning, and he didn’t know how the hell he did it, but he managed to get the thing on without her help.
He gripped his shaft and positioned himself at her sweet, hot little entrance before dropping his hand to her hip and pushing. She was ready for him, dripping for him, despite the lack of foreplay, and he moaned as all that tight hotness closed around him. She whimpered once he was fully sheathed, and the helpless little sound drove Sam quite mad with desire. He dragged himself out without much finesse before surging back in with a hard, almost violent thrust. Another little whimper from her, and he cursed.
“This is going to be rough, sunshine,” he managed to warn her tightly, and she clenched around him.
“Good.” Her voice was muffled against her hand. “Thank you.”
The thank-you sent him completely over the edge, and he grunted before losing himself completely. Years of experience, of technique, of laudable bedroom skills went flying out the window to be replaced by sheer, primal animal instinct. All he felt was the need to mate, to claim, to mark someone as irrevocably his. He felt her come, more than once, and he felt a rush of possessive pleasure that he could satisfy her like that. It was the resultant swell of pure happiness that sent him into his own blinding orgasm.
When it was over, when he came to himself again, it was to stare down at Lia, then at his surroundings in dazed shock. He didn’t feel right. He stepped away from her and turned his back to tug off the condom and adjust his pants. His movements were automatic but felt sluggish, like none of his limbs belonged to him. He was hazily aware of Lia moving behind him, heard her still labored breathing along with the rustling of fabric as she straightened her clothes and probably fixed her hair. But he couldn’t seem to move. He stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen, not quite sure what to do or where to go next.
“Brand?” Her quizzical voice seemed to come from far away, and he blinked and then blinked again. His confusion abruptly wore off as everything snapped into focus again. He’d been in the process of discarding the condom. He went to the upstairs bathroom to complete the task and then sat on the side of the tub for a moment to gather his faculties.
He shouldn’t have left her alone immediately after sex like that, he suddenly thought.
It was an arsehole move. He moved to the basin and dashed water on his face, roughly toweling it dry before hurrying back downstairs. She was at the sink again, and he frowned at her narrow back. How could she just go back to doing the dishes after that?
They should at least talk about what happened.
“Lia?” He kept his voice gentle. “You okay?”
She lifted her hands out of the water and dried them on a dish towel before turning to face him. Her eyes were serious, but she had a smile on her face; the effect was jarring and he was shocked to recognize that this was not a genuine smile. When had he become so familiar with her that he could tell her smiles apart?
“That was something else, Brand,” she said, her voice teasing, while her eyes remained completely solemn.
“I’m sorry. It was a bit . . . much.”
“It was intense, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.”
“Maybe we should talk about it?” She shook her head, another one of those horrible fake smiles on her beautiful lips.
“No. We shouldn’t.”
“Another one of your rules?” he asked, unable to disguise the frustration in his voice.
“Uh-huh. Number five, to be exact.”
“How many are there?”
“Nine.”
“I want to read them.”
“I’ll send you the abridged notes,” she promised. “I’m nearly done, let’s leave in five minutes.”
Because Lia had no other errands that day, they spent a couple of hours at the animal shelter. Brand went straight to Trevor, while Lia helped out with the adoption fair.
Her father was at the shelter today as well. He was a busy man who ran his own practice and the free clinic he and Daisy had started in Inkululeko, the township, but he spent a lot of his free time at the shelter, and Dr. Gunnerson-Smythe often called him in to consult on the more complex cases. The shelter simply didn’t have the time or resources to cope with complicated veterinary cases, and if not for her father, a lot of animals with potentially treatable problems would have been put down.
Lia and her father had waved at each other in acknowledgment but hadn’t really spoken all morning, each busy with their own tasks. Lia was interviewing potential pet families and her father was administering treatment to some of his patients, a task he would have had to squeeze in on Saturday, after his free clinic, if not for the holiday.
Lia lost track of her father and concentrated on her own task. It was a busy, tiring morning for her, and only after the rush had passed did she realize that she hadn’t seen Brand since their arrival. She stretched, ignoring the Brand-related aches and twinges in so many unfamiliar places, and handed off the last of the adoption questionnaires to Sarah, the receptionist.
“I think we did well today,” she said with a smile. “At least ten adoptions, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Minky found a home,” Sarah said, her eyes bright with excitement. Minky was one of their golden oldies, a plump ten-year-old miniature dachshund with soulful black eyes and a graying muzzle.
“That’s wonderful, who wants her?”
“An elderly couple. They lost their Labrador to old age a year ago, came in six months ago to fill out an adoption form, and then decided they weren’t ready. They came in again today, took one look at Minky, and fell completely in love. It was mutual, too—Minky looked like she wanted to crawl into the old lady’s lap and stay there forever.”
Lia was still smiling over the news when she went looking for Brand. The smile faded in an instant when she found him amiably chatting with her father. They were both standing outside Trevor’s pen, looking like longtime buddies as they talked and laughed. Her father saw her first and smiled fondly.
“Ah, here she is,” he said, and Lia swallowed down a surge of panic.
Here she is? What did he mean by that? Were they talking about her? Why were they talking about her? And how could Brand be looking at her with so much heat in his eyes with her father standing right there beside him? It was unnerving.
She smiled nervously and her father wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side, dropping a kiss on her head.
“Your mother tells me you’ve been helping Sam out,” her father said, sounding pleased enough about that.
“Yes, until his cast comes off.”
“She’s always been my sweetest girl,” he told Sam proudly, and the younger man’s eyes dropped to her painfully embarrassed face.
Brand, damn him, smiled, and Lia caught the wicked glint in his eyes, even if her father didn’t.
“Is that so?” he asked, his voice perfectly neutral.
“Daisy was a bit of an introvert, always focused on her studies. Daff was . . . is . . .” Her father smiled fondly and shook his head. “Well, I’m sure you’ve met Daff.”
Brand’s smile widened, and he laughed.
“Say no more,” he joked.
“But Lia, never a harsh word to say about anyone, always happy to help out. She’ll take good care of you.”
“Oh, she has definitely been taking very good care of me,” Brand said agreeably, nothing at all lascivious in his voice or in his words, but Lia still stared daggers at him.
“Your mother tells me Daff, Spencer, and Charlie are coming around for a braai later, Lia. Bring Sam.”
“I will.” Lia nodded obediently, even though the last thing she wanted was for her STF to hang out with her family. Her father shook Sam’s hand firmly before taking his leave.
“How was your visit with Trevor today?” Lia asked.
“Great, he sat a little closer than he did yesterday. Showed interest in the treats I brought but wasn’t ready to take them from me.”
“That’s good,” Lia said, even while she was still troubled over what it could mean if Trevor bonded with him and he left.
“So a braai is a barbecue, right?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Brace yourself,” she warned lightly. “You won’t know what to do with all the meat.”
“Sounds fantastic.” He grinned. He cast a furtive look left and then right down the quiet corridor that housed the rehab pens before leaning toward her and whispering, “Time to get back to the cabin for a quickie before we hang out with your parents?”
Lia sucked in a breath as her legs wobbled and her stomach flipped at the words.
“I think that’s doable,” she said, her voice emerging on an embarrassingly husky note.
“I think you’re doable.” He leered comically and she laughed breathlessly before taking his left hand in both of hers and tugging him toward her. He went willingly, and when she stepped into his arms for a quick, stolen kiss, he was the one who hiked in his breath and groaned helplessly.
Lia dashed home for a shower and a quick change of clothing after her and Brand’s afternoon quickie turned into an hours-long sexual odyssey. At the rate they were going, Lia was fairly certain their sexual chemistry would fizzle out in a matter of days. Surely something this hot and potent couldn’t last.
As she stood beneath the shower, she explored her body in wonder. It was the same unremarkable set of arms and legs and breasts as before, and yet she felt like she had never really known what it was capable of. It was ridiculous how sensitive and responsive this body was to Brand’s touch—she was almost dreading the prospect of the cast coming off, because he was already pretty lethal without the use of both hands.
Her phone buzzed while she was dressing, and she picked it up with a dreamy smile, expecting it to be from Brand. But the text wasn’t from him—it was from Daff.
Hey, Spencer tells me Daddy invited Brand (eye-roll emoji). Easier for us to drive him to the farm. Meet you there.
Lia beat back the swell of dissatisfaction at the message, telling herself she had no right to be disappointed that he wouldn’t be with her. It was a short drive and it definitely made more sense for him to go with Daff, Spencer, and Charlie.
She was still in her room when she heard Spencer’s truck drive up, and she ran her hands down the front of her skirt before heading downstairs to join everybody. She pinpointed Brand’s exact location in seconds, giving him an impersonal smile before moving her eyes along. She avoided even casting her gaze in his general direction after that, instead going up to her mother, Charlie, and Daff and joining them in setting up the picnic table.
“Aunty Millie, are we expecting more guests?” Charlie asked their mother suddenly, and Lia and Daff both looked at the pretty teen in surprise. She widened her eyes at them before pointing at the table. “There are extra place settings. You guys aren’t very observant.”
Lia’s eyes dropped to the long table, where two extra plates were set out.
“Are we expecting company, Mom?” Daff asked curiously.
“Not exactly,” their mother said with a smile, and Daff’s eyes narrowed at the cryptic response.
She was about to probe further when a couple of familiar dogs came scrambling through the open patio doors, rolling over each other in their eagerness to greet everybody present. For a moment Lia stared at them in blank confusion until Charlie’s delighted squeal snapped her out of her perplexed daze.
“Peaches! Cooper!” the girl screamed, dropping to her knees and opening her arms until the two dogs threw themselves at her and laved her with their overeager tongues. Charlie’s own dog, Toffee, huddled beneath the table, watching the commotion nervously.
“Oh my gosh,” Lia said in wonder as the implication of the dogs’ unexpected presence finally sank in. Her eyes flew to the door and her squeal was almost identical to Charlie’s when Daisy and Mason stepped onto the porch. The next ten minutes flew by in a confusion of hugs, kisses, and muddled talking as everyone demanded to know why they hadn’t been told about this visit. It was crazy and wonderful all at the same time.
At some point in the middle of the chaotic family reunion, Lia glanced up at Brand. He remained standing to one side, a beer in his hand as he watched the happy gathering with a grin on his face. Content to let the family get reacquainted before going to greet his longtime friend. He met Lia’s eyes, and that inevitable heat sparked between them. His smile turned sensuous, and he acknowledged the spark by lifting his bottle to her in a slight salute before breaking the short, intense staring contest.
Lia shook herself and focused on Daisy and Mason, whom none of them had seen in four months.
“We wanted to surprise you guys,” Daisy was saying, her voice breathless with excitement. “But we also didn’t want to say anything because I wasn’t sure I’d get the time off.”
“How long are you staying?” Daff asked.
“The entire week. The second semester starts the week after next, so we’ll drive back next Monday.”
“And since Daff moved in with Spencer, we’ll be staying at Daisy’s house,” Mason said and grinned at Brand. “In case you’re wondering if I’m evicting your injured ass.”
“How long have you been here?” Lia asked.
“We’ve literally just arrived. Mom and Daddy knew we were coming, of course,” Daisy said.
“You poor kids must be exhausted,” their mother said sympathetically. It was a long drive from Grahamstown to Riversend.
“A little. The clinic was open for a few hours this morning, so I was at work and then we did some last-minute packing and shopping before we left. It’s been a long day,” Daisy said, and Mason wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to drop a kiss on top of her curly head.
Sam watched the happy little family tableau with a smile. There was a lot of love and affection in this group. Mason and Spencer looked like they’d been a part of this family for years, they were so welcome and at ease with everybody. Sam felt the slightest dart of envy. It was a rogue, anomalous emotion that he couldn’t explain. He wasn’t a happy-family kind of guy. This wasn’t something he coveted or aspired to, but still . . . it had to be nice to be so accepted and loved. It had only ever been Sam and his mother, with the occasional stepfather thrown in the mix. He and his mom had been a great team—that was all he’d ever needed. He’d never desired anything more, and he didn’t see the point in wanting more now. Not when he knew he wasn’t suited for it at all.
Mason finally managed to extricate himself from the rest of the group and wandered over to Sam. He cast a critical look over Sam’s body before shaking his head and grinning.
“You look like shit,” he observed before stepping up to give Sam a quick hug, mindful of his injured arm.
“At least in my case it’s temporary. You always look like shit,” Sam countered. The banter with the guy, who was essentially his best friend, felt familiar, and they both grinned again.
“Fuck off,” Mason said without heat, reaching into the cooler behind Sam and helping himself to a beer. “How you doing, bro?”
“Been better,” Sam admitted. “But it’s not as bad as it was.”
“You settled in at the cabin?”
“Yeah, thanks for that. Are you sure you’re okay with me staying there? I can stay at Daisy’s place until after you leave again.”
“Nah. It’s cool. Daisy and I will only be using that place as a base. We’ll probably spend most of our time at Spencer’s or the in-laws’.” Mason’s eyes roamed over the assembled group, continuously circling back to Daisy. “Fuck, it’s good to be back home. I didn’t even know how much I missed everyone until we walked through that door.”
“You have a great family, mate,” Sam said and was shocked to hear that previous envy creep into his voice.
“They are pretty fucking fantastic. And I see they’ve welcomed you into the fold.”
“Temporarily.”
“This family doesn’t do temporary.”
“But I do,” Sam reminded, and Mason grimaced at him.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” he said, taking a sip from his beer. His eyes were back on Daisy and then fell to his brother, who was teasing their young sister, Charlie, about something. Mason’s face lit up. “’Scuse me for a second. Spence might need backup.”
Sam nodded and watched as Mason waded into whatever was going on between Spencer and their teenage half sister. The girl, with her almond-shaped emerald eyes, flawless brown skin, and thick black curls was exotically pretty but still bore a striking resemblance to her brothers. Mason tucked an arm around her waist and hoisted her up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She laughed and squealed at the indignity of it all, trying to maintain her adolescent cool while giggling like a child.
“It’s hard to believe she’s been in their lives for less than a year, isn’t it?” Lia said, and Sam glanced down at her, unsurprised that she’d finally, inevitably, made her way to his side.
“Hello there, Miss Priss,” he greeted softly, his eyes taking in her cap-sleeved, knee-length, sky-blue dress with the high neck and slightly flared skirt. “You’re looking very pretty and proper this evening, and you know what that does to my blood pressure.”
She kept her eyes straight ahead, but he could see her breathing change while a hectic flush bled into her skin.
“Maybe we should retreat to the barn?” he suggested wickedly. “I have very fond memories of that barn. We could do a reenactment. What do you say?”
“Be good. This isn’t appropriate behavior for this setting,” she said firmly, and he groaned.
“I love it when you speak etiquette to me, sunshine. It’s like you want me to take you to a dark spot around the corner, pin you to the wall, and have my nasty way with you.” She didn’t say anything, just turned her head and looked at him, and Sam bit back a groan at the expression in her eyes. So much mute longing, heat, and lust. Her pupils were dilated and her breathing was much too fast. She licked her lips, ran her eyes over his face, down his throat, then his chest until they dipped to his crotch. And stayed there. He felt her gaze like a touch and, embarrassingly, despite the crowd all around them, felt himself harden like a teenage boy.
Shit! His silly little game had backfired severely, because he suddenly found himself on the receiving end of an unspoken sensual assault.
“Later,” she promised, her voice low and throaty and meant only for his ears.
Sam groaned and willed his erection away as she walked away from him without a backward glance.
Lia was happy to spend time with Daisy and Mason again. She had missed her baby sister fiercely, but part of her couldn’t wait for the braai to end so that she could collect on the promise she’d been seeing in Brand’s eyes all evening. How could she still want him so desperately after last night and this afternoon? It was like a dull ache that faded but never truly went away. And every time she looked at him and met those smoldering eyes, the ache intensified sharply.
Her dad was the self-proclaimed braaimaster for the evening, and even though Spencer and Mason constantly tried to take over the grill, he kept them at bay with sharp, humorous reprimands.
“My house, my braai. You youngsters think you know everything. Stand aside and watch a true master at work.” He ignored the good-natured heckles from the younger men, talking his way through his barbecuing process as if he were tutoring children.
Meanwhile, the women were sitting around the patio table, catching up and fussing over Charlie, who pretended to struggle out of affectionate hugs even while everyone could see she loved the attention. It was a lovely evening and every effort was made to include Brand, even though he held himself slightly apart.
Lia knew that he couldn’t feel left out—her family was much too welcoming for that. She wondered if the entire scene was a little too cozy and domesticated for a man like Sam Brand. He had an in-built reserve that she had noticed at the wedding. He seemed quite happy to be an impartial, if pleasant, observer. He joked, participated in conversations, and was very at home with the men, but there was always an aloofness to him.
When dinner was finally served, everyone—barring Charlie, of course—had a nice alcoholic buzz going. Conversation around the table was loud and cheerful, and when her mother brought out a chocolate cheesecake for dessert, the atmosphere mellowed, everybody just content to be there and hang out.
“I have something to say,” Spencer suddenly proclaimed, his voice a little too loud and a little too nervous. Everybody immediately paid attention. Spencer wasn’t the type to willingly address a crowd. Not even family, so this was unusual to say the least. Daff had a perplexed frown on her face as she watched him get up and speak to the table. “This wasn’t planned, but it feels right because . . . because we’re all here.”
He turned to look down at Daff, whose eyes widened.
“Spencer, what are you doing?” she asked warily.
He grinned.
“Maybe, as gestures go, it’s not so grand . . . but you know me, darling, I’m not great at grand,” he said, and Daff gasped at his words. Her hands flew to her mouth when he dropped to one knee in front of her, and this time everybody else gasped. “Daffodil McGregor, I’ve been carrying this around with me for months. Everywhere I go, I’ve had it close to my heart. I couldn’t decide what type of gesture would most reflect my love for you, but then I realized that there just isn’t one big enough. You’re the beat of my heart and the sun in my sky. You’re my everything, and I love you.” His voice was starting to wobble, and his cheeks and ears were going pink, but he forged ahead, lifting a ring that Lia was too far away to see. “Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Daff just looked at him, eyes wide, face frozen, hands still covering her mouth. She didn’t seem to be breathing. She didn’t answer, and Spencer started to look nervous.
“Uh, Daff? Marry me? Will you?” She leaned forward to palm his face in her hands.
“You sound like Yoda,” she said with a little giggle before planting a huge kiss on his lips. “And yes, Spencer Carlisle, my big, wonderful man . . . marry you, I will.”
Everybody cheered and got up to engulf the couple in kisses and hugs. Lia’s eyes welled up; she felt overwhelming happiness for her oldest sister. They were a wonderful couple and belonged together . . . but . . . she also felt a stab of loneliness when she realized that this kind of relationship with someone was farther and farther out of reach for her.
She moved forward to kiss her sister and hug Spencer and then fawned over the beautiful rose-gold ring, with its pear-shaped peach sapphire. It was delicate and feminine and understated and simply perfect for Daff. The evening, which had been winding down, found new life, and talk turned to weddings and honeymoons. Lia kept smiling, kept enthusing, was happy to say yes to Daff’s request that she be her maid of honor. And all the while tried to keep the vicious talons of envy at bay. It was unbecoming and it was ugly.
Her face was starting to ache with the effort it took to keep smiling, and her head was starting to pound. She kept her gaze away from Brand’s, not sure she even wanted to lose herself in his arms tonight. All she wanted to do was curl up and cry and hate herself for being so petty and pathetic and stupid.
Sam didn’t know how none of Lia’s family could see how very much she was hurting. He knew how much she wanted what Daff and Daisy had. And he couldn’t understand how Lia, with her strawberry flowers, her gentle disposition, and her sweet, ladylike dresses, had not been snatched up by some grateful guy yet. Why was she having so much difficulty finding this Mr. Right of hers?
Sam knew the only reason she’d agreed to this thing with him was because she felt the right man was no longer on the horizon for her. She had compromised some unspoken rule of hers and had instead chosen to have some fun with someone she recognized was completely wrong for her. Sam knew he was being a selfish bastard in reaping the rewards of her broken dreams, but he was only human—and a weak one when it came to resisting her appeal. And he would continue to enjoy her until she either ended it or he left, whichever came first.
He watched her laugh, joke, and make suggestions, while the sadness in her eyes never dissipated. It was surprisingly distressing for him to see her like this. He didn’t want her sad. He wanted her stern or disapproving, happy or angry, turned on and consumed by desire . . . anything but this absolute heartbreak in her beautiful eyes. He wanted to take her to bed and distract her from the world and its disappointments.
But he couldn’t. Not right now. Right now he had to watch her put on a brave face and get sucked into planning her sister’s wedding.
The evening finally ended because Daisy and Mason were both absolutely exhausted. Everybody, with the exception of Dr. McGregor, who had his free clinic in the township, planned on meeting for breakfast at the farm in the morning, and Lia’s mother insisted that Brand join them. Daff and Spencer promised to bring him. Everybody departed in a flurry of goodbyes until it was just Lia left with her parents. Luckily cleaning up had been a group effort, so there wasn’t much to do but bid her happy parents good night.
When she was finally in the privacy of her own room, Lia sank onto her bed and wrapped her arms around her shuddering body.
“Get a grip, you idiot,” she scolded herself. “Your sister’s getting married—it’s a wonderful thing.”
What was wrong with her? Was she really this self-absorbed? She swiped at a couple of errant tears and loathed herself for being this way. There were other things in life. Marriage wasn’t the key to happiness, she knew that. She’d very nearly made the stupidest mistake of her life because of her eagerness to get married and start a family. If she’d followed through with that wedding, she’d be completely miserable now.
She would allow herself this one moment of self-pity, and then she would move on. She was better than this, stronger and less pitiful than this.
Her phone beeped, and she reached for it. A message from Brand.
I could send you pics of my dick so that you’d know exactly what I’m in the mood for, but even I’m not that crass. Shocking, I know.
She snorted and swiped at a tear with the back of her hand, then thumbed a response.
€===3?? She smiled through the sheen of tears.
LIA!! WTF? That is in no way an accurate rendering of my cock. It should be at least €=====3!!
She giggled, surprising herself with the lighthearted sound. He was incorrigible and unapologetically crude at times. But she was getting used to it and even finding it funny and refreshing. He was base and obscene and somewhat shocking, but she liked his honesty.
My apologies. Will have to reacquaint myself with the appendage in question, so as to refresh my memory. She blushed while she typed the words, hesitated for a moment, and then sent the text.
His response was almost instant.
Get over here right now! You should be here, riding my cock, not moping alone in your childhood bedroom.
How did he know she was moping? She didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to talk about anything meaningful. She and Trevor the boxer were in the same boat right now—both in serious danger of becoming way too attached to someone who would be leaving soon.
She reminded herself of Rule One and Rule Eight, possibly the most important rules on her list. No falling in love, and accepting that the end of their fling wasn’t a matter of if, but of when. Keeping things casual and physical only would be the best way to ensure that there would be no danger of falling in love.
I’m on my way, she promised. A quick shower and change of clothes later and she was sneaking out of the house like a teenager. Her parents weren’t nosy about her private life, but they would still be concerned if they saw her leaving at this time of night. And Lia would rather not be confronted with difficult questions she had no way of answering right now.
Sam was waiting for her by the front door like some overeager schoolboy. When he heard the car drive up, he flung the door open and watched her exit the vehicle. She had changed her clothing and was now wearing a flowery slip dress—risqué for her, as it was an inch above her knees—a pair of strappy sandals, and a green cardigan. He could tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and his mouth went dry as he wondered if she was naked on the bottom, too.
She didn’t say a word, simply launched herself at him, plastering her lips to his desperately, muffling his greeting as her tongue plunged into his mouth. His arm went around her and pinned her close, his hand landing in the small of her back and fisting the fabric of her dress. He was keen to discover if she was wearing panties, but she slipped out of his hold before he knew what her intentions were and pushed him back into the cabin. She shut the door and then turned to look at him again, her expression wild and unfocused. Her eyes drank in his face, and he opened his mouth to speak again, not sure how to react to this marginal aggression. He liked it and wanted to see where she was going with it, but he wasn’t quite sure if she was okay.
She was tugging at his tank, dragging it up over his chest and kissing his skin as it was revealed. They awkwardly managed to remove it completely before she was on her knees and yanking at his drawstring gym pants. She fumbled impatiently with the ties and finally got them undone. She shoved his pants down past his thighs and reached beneath the waistband of his boxers to free his rampant cock. She was moving entirely too fast, and he was about to pull her back up to take control and slow things down, when she took him into her mouth.
He groaned and fell back against the wall, thumping his head in the process. He didn’t even register the pain as she continued to lick and suck her way up and down his shaft.
“Fuuuuck. Don’t stop,” he implored, and she looked up at him with those gorgeous eyes. There was too much vulnerability in them—this didn’t feel right. It killed Sam, but he reached down and encircled her arm with his hand and pulled her up. She released him reluctantly, and despite the absolute pain he felt at the interrupted blow job, he gave her a gentle smile.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please let me.”
“Ssh,” he responded before claiming her lips again. But this time the kiss was softer, deeper, filled with the tenderness and reverence she deserved. When it ended she shook her head.
“No. Not like that. I want hard. I want rough. No gentleness. Not tonight.” Her words made him frown. Her texts had put him in a playful, sexy mood . . . he hadn’t been expecting another frantic coupling. They’d had plenty of those over the last twenty-four hours. He wanted fun and flirty tonight. But clearly Lia needed something else.
She kissed him again, and her hand dropped to his straining length. Sam hissed at her touch, but she quickly released him and turned to stand with her back against the wall.
“Here. Like you said earlier. Up against the wall.” Sam made a feral sound at the back of his throat and moved to cage her body with his, placing his good arm against the wall while he kept his cast out of the way for fear of hurting her with it.
“There’s a condom in my pocket. Put it on me, then wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist,” he urged hoarsely, and she obeyed without hesitation. Her back was supported against the wall while she hung on to him with her arms and legs.
He grunted in satisfaction and reached between them—gratified to discover she wasn’t wearing panties after all—to take his shaft in hand and position himself at her entrance. He braced his arm against the wall above her head for support and entered her with one long, delicious stroke.
They both cried out when he was fully sheathed, and he stood like that for a moment until she wriggled against him.
“Do it,” she urged. “Hard and fast, please.”
“Fuck me, it drives me wild when you say please,” he growled against her mouth and gave her exactly what she asked for.
It was hot and hard and fast and dirty. And it was over sooner than Sam would have liked. They ended on a rare mutual, mind-blowing orgasm that left them sagging against each other for a second before they ran out of strength and slowly melted to the floor.
Afterward they sat side by side, breathing heavily, with their backs against the wall.
“You okay, sunshine?” he asked after he’d finally managed to regulate his breathing.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I really needed that.”
Which didn’t exactly answer his question.
“Do you want to talk?” he asked softly. “About earlier? About the engagement.”
She turned her head and looked at him for a long, unfathomable moment, a small frown furrowing her brow while her teeth worried her lower lip.
“I have to get home,” she said.
“Lia . . .”
“I’ll see you at breakfast.” She leaned over and gave him a quick, wholly unsatisfying peck on the lips before pushing herself up from the floor.
“Lia. Wait . . .” She didn’t; she picked up her little cardigan and bag where she had dropped them at the front door and was gone before he even managed to get up off the floor.
He wasn’t sure he liked these fucking rules of hers. It was amazing how much he’d learned about her over the last few days and how he knew that this behavior, this reluctance to share her thoughts, was completely aberrant for her.
He had enjoyed the Lia who had already envisioned her unborn nieces and made up names for them. Who had happily shared her misconceptions about his job and had sweetly sympathized with him about his supposed breakup. He wanted that Lia back. Sure, the sex they had now was scorching hot, but it left him feeling oddly hollow when she wouldn’t exchange a single meaningful word with him afterward. He was confusing himself with these unprecedented longings. Sam didn’t like discussing feelings with women at any time, and especially not after sex. He didn’t want to know their thoughts and emotions, and he for damned sure didn’t want to talk about his.
So why the fuck was he so concerned about how Lia McGregor was feeling right now? It was bizarre, and he didn’t like it.