T H E N
Three Months Ago
I couldn’t go anywhere in this fecking town without seeing Autumn.
She was in the library. She was sitting in the courtyard. She even walked past the bloody pitch on her way home.
Not that I’d noticed.
Much.
She was at McKinney’s. A bloke can’t have a bleeding pint with his mate without her showing up. Everywhere I go, she’s fecking there. Looking like she did, all pink cheeked and full lipped.
Freckles covering her face, her neck.
Jaysus.
Just thinking of those freckles, and knowing how they scatter down her neck, across her collarbone, to her gorgeous round tits, had me harder than bleeding steel.
I’ve tried to stay away. It’s for the best, if I’m being honest. Take the book sale for instance, I managed to keep away from her all day, though I will admit I couldn’t keep from watching her. But I managed, you see, and felt right grand about it. But then Joe put her on the spot, asked her about her birthday and what did Autumn do? Bleeding caved. Let him talk her into something she didn’t want any part of. Fecking bitty martyr, that one.
I told myself I’d hang back. I told myself that if she knew the truth, knew about my family, about me and Joe, then she wouldn’t be too keen on me chatting her up. She wouldn’t want me kissing her. She wouldn’t want me touching her. Christ. Just the memory of what she had let me do to her that night at her apartment made me want to skewer my eyes out every time I thought on it. I wanted to drive the taste of her skin off my tongue. I wanted to give her the space she needed, until Joe got off his arse and told her the truth.
But stay away from her completely? That wasn’t bloody likely.
I thought I’d have a nice, quiet night with Donovan. We had a shedload of shite to finish for our Modern Analytics project. So this night out at McKinney’s was meant to be a means for us to bounce ideas off each other. Then Autumn walked in with that skirt curving around her glorious arse, and that fitted shirt showing off her glorious breasts, and all thought of work with Donovan went to hell.
I watched Autumn down two small glasses of wine. She sat with her back straight, with her beautiful gray eyes flicking up to meet mine in the mirror. She knew I was there. She knew I saw her, but she didn’t speak, didn’t bother to frown at me, scowl, shoot me the bird, nothing. I should have been fine and good with that. After all, I did give her the toss, much as it fecking killed me to do. But to have her ignore me completely? That’s a ruddy load of shite I didn’t want.
She talked to the bartender, Sam, I think. That tall bastard smiled too much at her, laughed too loud at her jokes, and I had to curl my fists under my arms to keep from reaching out to wallop his face.
“Deco, come on man, what are you staring at?” Donovan said, punching me on the shoulder to pull my attention away from Autumn.
“Sorry, mate. Just got distracted.”
“Yeah, I see that.” Donovan pushed his notebook into his backpack, clearly resigned to my not being able to concentrate. “Stop being a pussy. Go talk to her,” he said, but I waved my hand, dismissing him.
Then that uppity caffler Morrison ran in and sidled right nearly on top of Autumn. I didn’t realize I was grunting at the pair of them until Donovan jabbed me in the arm.
“Be cool, man,” he said, nodding toward the bar. Morrison looked right at me, gave me his usual pouncy glare, but Donovan hit me again and I looked away. “You can’t fight him, dumbass. You’re already suspended.” He popped me in the back of the head when I looked over at Autumn again. “Let it go, man. She’s not worth it.”
“Fuck you, she’s not worth it,” I said, ready to rearrange Donovan’s face. How the hell could he think that? Hadn’t he seen how gorgeous she was? How sweet? How when she smiled every inch of her face lit up? My frown was heavy, pulling down my mouth when Donovan laughed at me. Barmy arsehole was fucking with me.
I was about to tell him off, let him know what an amadan he was being, but then Autumn stood, let fecking Morrison touch her lower back and she disappeared down the hall. She didn’t even look back at me, didn’t spare a single glance in my direction.
To hell with that.
Donovan tried to stop me when I left our booth, but he was three full inches shorter than me and weighed about fifty pound less. He wasn’t going to stop me. I wasn’t an idiot, though. I waited until Morrison was distracted, until he and that Norwegian-looking bartender friend of his were deep in conversation before I slipped right pass them and down the hallway.
She was leaning over the sink when I walked in the bathroom. Didn’t even blink when the door closed. But then she straightened up and we locked glances in the mirror.
“I don’t have time for this,” she said and I could tell she was hacked off at me being there. I didn’t give a shite if she was. There’s no way I could let her leave with Morrison.
“No, you don’t.” I took a step to stand right behind her. She smelled like vanilla and I had to dig my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her. “Uppity bollocks is waiting for you.” I tried not to glare at her, to make my face indifferent and I was immediately glad she couldn’t read my mind. If she knew how much I wanted her, she’d slap me silly. I tried for distraction, for anger. It was easier to pick a row with her than for her to catch on to what I was thinking. Besides, she looked fecking beautiful when she was screaming at me with her cheeks pink and her breath catching into a growl. “What happened to not reliving the past, McShane?”
Autumn served me with a vicious glare and I loved seeing her anger surface, those small bits of her simmering. She tossed her paper towel in the bin and tried to leave me, but I trapped her against the wall, stood too close. I couldn’t help myself.
This had never happened to me. I’d never been so bleeding out of my head over a girl. Normally, I got bored. I didn’t let myself linger too long when the excitement had tapered off. But Autumn, Jaysus, I didn’t think I’d ever be tired of her. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to not touch her, to not want her. I knew I’d likely seem like some pathetic stalker, but I couldn’t fecking control myself around her.
“Please leave me alone,” she said.
I looked in her eyes, at the soft features of her face and they gave her away. She wanted me touching her. I could feel it, see her pleading eyes, her mock disgust at me in every crinkle around her eyes. She moved right and I followed her, rounding my arms, flattening my hands to trap her against the wall. What the hell was I doing?
He was out there, Morrison. I’d seen the way he gawked at her, how he stared after her like he wanted to devour her. Autumn’s lips were full, tempting and I wanted to taste her. Right then, right there, with a crowd of people outside the room, with Morrison waiting to take her away from me. Her eyes shifted, up to my mouth and I knew she didn’t want him, that she hadn’t stopped wanting me. Her skin was soft, delicate when I touched her cheek, then let my fingertips slide down to that impossibly delectable bottom lip.
“You can’t go with him.”
“Why the hell not?”
This time I didn’t like her anger. That wasn’t what I wanted. I just wanted to see her, to feel her, to remind her that I hadn’t disappeared, that I wouldn’t. Morrison didn’t know how to touch her. He couldn’t know what she needed. He was as much use as a back pocket on a shirt.
When she tried half-heartedly to push me away, I leaned in, rested my forehead against hers. It took all my composure to rein myself in. My heart pounded against my chest and I felt my pulse working like a jackhammer in my throat.
I inhaled, closed my eyes, but couldn’t break the sensation of our bodies touching, of her perfect tits rubbing against my chest. When she tried to go for the door, I slammed it shut, locked it. I needed a moment to make her see reason. To explain… fecking Joe, I couldn’t explain. Shite. Not yet.
“He’s not the one, love.” She had to realize that. That idiot wanker? No way was he good enough for my McShane. “You know that. Deep in your gut, you know it isn’t Tucker.”
“Then who is it?” She practically screamed that bit. “It’s not you. You’ve told me that a thousand times. This…thing, this whatever we had, is over.” I tried to think of some reasonable excuse for pushing her away, one that would still shield the truth that wasn’t mine to share. There wasn’t any. In every one I came off like a bleeding arsehole. “No, Declan. It was your choice.” She paused, took a breath and for the first time I saw her anger slip away. Behind it was the loss I thought she felt. She was hurt. I’d hurt her, I knew that, but she’d never let me see it before. I had been unfair, have been since the first time I saw her with that bollocks. The day after I broke it off with her. Until now, she’d guarded herself, hadn’t let me see a bit of the hurt I’d caused her, not really. But it was clear in those gray eyes. How she wanted me. How she missed me. Fuck me, I wanted her too.
Autumn yanked on my collar and I was so fecking close to grabbing her, to taking her right then and there. But then she spoke and her voice cracked and I was too much of a shite to do anything but let her touch me, let her do with me whatever the hell she wanted. I let her control me. Fecking gladly. “I wanted you so badly. I still—” She squinted her lids tight as though that last bit slipped out of her mouth. Fuck this. She wanted me and right then I could give a good shite less why I needed to back away. I leaned forward, couldn’t help but touch her neck, feel the warmth on her skin; skin that I’ve tasted. Skin that I wanted to taste over and over again. But before I could, she jerked away from me, tried to put distance between us. “You rejected me. I’m not going to play games with you anymore.”
“I can’t…if you knew—”
It was on the tip of my tongue. The truth about Joe, about my life back home. It almost came out, but when I looked at her again, saw how her eyes had gone all glassy, I was right back to feeling like a prized git. If she knew, she’d hate me for touching her. She’d hate herself for wanting to touch me right back.
“Help me understand then.”
I sagged against her, dropped my head to her shoulder so that I could take a breath, so I could sort out what way was best to put her off, just once more. But my mind was fecking blank. There was nothing there but her smell, the way her curves felt in my hands, how she made me weak. “You don’t know how hard this is for me.” I straightened up, hoped that she could see how desperate I was when I looked at her. “I want you. God, do I want you.”
“Declan. Please. You have a girlfriend. You shouldn’t say things like that when you have Heather.”
What the bleeding hell? “How do you know about her?” I was determined not to budge when she tried pushing me away again.
“Was I not supposed to find out? She threatened me to stay away from you.”
Fecking Heather. What the hell did she say to Autumn? I’d told that girl a thousand bloody times I wasn’t interested, but she wouldn’t give me any space.
Autumn had to see right through Heather’s lies. She was cleverer than that. I had to make her understand, to see that I would never want someone like Heather. That time, when I touched her, Autumn didn’t flinch away from me. “We’re not together. I don’t want her, Autumn.”
I hoped I wasn’t holding her too tight. She squirmed away and I knew I should have let her leave. I knew she didn’t need me messing her about. But then a flash of Morrison touching her back, of her letting him touch her, vanished all reason and sense from my head.
“Tucker’s waiting for me,” she said, and it sounded like a taunt.
She couldn’t be seriously considering Morrison. She hated him. She told me so. “No.” My palm stung when I slapped it against the wall. “Don’t leave.”
I couldn’t make out what she was thinking. Knowing her, it wouldn’t be good. But the way her eyes shot over my face, the way they lingered on my mouth, how she struggled to keep that bleeding angry scowl on her face, only made me want to be closer. I wanted to kiss her until we were both gasping. I wanted to fill all the spaces her father and Morrison left bare. I wanted her to touch me until my body was spent, until the sweat on our skin and our spent breaths filled the room.
Slowly Autumn’s face hardened again and I thought I really had lost her then. It killed me, just a little bit more the harder her features became.
“I’m going with him, Declan. I’m going out with Tucker. I’m going to have dinner with him. I’m going to dance with him. I’m going to let him hold me.”
I pulled my fingers from her skin. Her words seared me, had me second guessing her completely. She must have noticed this, must have seen how the idea of her with Morrison had me filling with rage, had my hands shaking as though I’d been fecking electrocuted.
“And when the night is over, I’m going to let him kiss me, let him touch me if he wants. I’m going to do all of that because he wants me and he isn’t afraid to show me how much he wants me. Because he isn’t a coward.”
Like bloody hell. No fecking way would I let that happen. Before I knew what I was doing, my fist slammed against the wall. It ached like a bugger, but Autumn didn’t blink, didn’t flinch at my reaction. She tried moving again, to step away from me but no way in bleeding hell was I going to let her leave all smug like that.
“Does he touch you like I do?” She couldn’t answer, seemed unable to do much else than close her eyes. Autumn moved against me as though she was uncomfortable, as though me just touching her, pressing against her, was setting her body on fire. I pushed her further, loving how she tried to deny what was brimming between us. “Does he kiss you like I do?” I wouldn’t let her answer. Autumn wasn’t the sort of girl who appreciates pathetic, insincere words. She liked when people were direct. I’d give her fecking direct.
My tongue slipped right into her mouth and she didn’t deny me. In fact, she was eager, anxious, responded to the low groans that worked up my throat. For a moment, I forgot that she was not mine, that I had to push her away. All I felt was her lips, her soft, warm tongue buried in my mouth, the way her hips pressed against mine and it was fecking perfect.
But perfection ended, was extinguished when she again pulled away. Bloody stubborn woman.
She closed her eyes again when I wouldn’t give her an inch of space, tried denying what I was doing to her body, I could tell. I wouldn’t let her deny this. Not again. Her skin was like silk when I cupped her chin between my fingers. They were calloused, shouldn’t have been touching her, weren’t worthy. “Look at me,” I said, my voice sharp. “Fecking look at me, Autumn,” I whispered.
She managed to resist, just a few blinks more before she finally watched me. I didn’t know what expression I was giving her. It was still guarded, hopefully still hiding all the things that were racing in my mind. I wanted her. Badly. But it wasn’t just her body. I thought I fecking loved her, God help me, and the idea of her not wanting, not loving me back made my control, my composure, pathetic things.
Autumn’s body was hot, her skin flushed. If she didn’t want me, she’d say so. She’d work that biting knee up into my bollocks like the first night I tried to kiss her. But she didn’t. Her fingers clawed into my arms, her breath came out heavy, desperate. “You want me. You want my skin on yours, don’t you? You want to feel my hands on your body.” I touched her, tentative at first, then out of control, a slow rub against her hardening nipple. She didn’t slap my hand away. In fact, her back curved a small fraction, pushing against my fingers. “I can feel it. Your body aching for me just like mine aches for you.”
“I…I don’t want…want you.”
She was lying. That hard nipple rubbed against my fingers again, her hips moving like she wanted me to bury myself inside her. God, just the thought of that had me grabbing her wrist, pulling her palm against my aching, hard dick. I wasn’t sure what she’d do. Hit me? Knee me again? But she didn’t jerk her hand away. She didn’t do anything except work those clever fingers against me and shite did it feel good.
Her fingers on my dick like they knew exactly how to touch me; I fecking loved it. “I want you too, love. So much. I want you wet and willing and desperate for me, just like I am for you. All the time. Every second of the bleeding day I think of that night in your bed when all I wanted was to be buried inside you. It hasn’t stopped, no matter what I say, it won’t stop, this ache for you, only you, McShane.” She shook, arms trembling, touch faltering until I felt cold, missed the searing way she rubbed against me. She couldn’t do that, couldn’t stop. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Let me have you, be with you.”
“No, Declan. You only want me now because I’m seeing Tucker. I’m tired of you fucking with my head.”
Fecking Morrison again. “You’re not with Tucker, not now. I just want…I need…” my breath caught, clotted in my throat and all that I felt, all the emotions and heat Autumn worked over me, in me, spilled out like a flood. I wanted so many things; her, us, to be free to touch her, to have her, to be claimed by her. My mind was stupid with a jumble of thoughts, of things I was desperate for. And I didn’t think, barely breathed, and that primal bugger took over, moved my hands down her legs, pulled up her skirt over her hips.
I knew she was wet. She wore a thong, fuck me. A bitty strip of fabric barely covering her tight body and my fingers moved on their own, my heart pounded nearly as hard as my dick throbbed.
She was killing me.
It got worse when I cupped her. Worse still when she moaned. “Feck, McShane.” The thin fabric of her thong was in my way and so I pushed it aside, felt over those soaking lips. “You don’t want me, is it?” I slipped a finger inside her and instantly shuddered. She was so warm. Was she gripping my finger on purpose? Was that just an instinctive reaction? I didn’t fecking care either way. God, she felt so good, so wet, and the way her body reacted, how tight she clamped around my finger, how she milked it, told me all I need to know. Didn’t want me? Those gorgeous, heavy lidded eyes and her wet heat told me that was utter shite.
“You want me,” I said. “God, how you do and I need you, love. I need to feel you wrapped around me, clutching against me. Only me. That arsehole couldn’t do this to you. You wouldn’t want him to. Not like this.” I pushed in deeper to hear that low moan of hers, but she was holding back, refusing to respond. I licked a hot path on her neck, pushed my weight on her and finally, she released a heady sigh. Morrison couldn’t get that response from her. No bleeding way could he have her purring like that. “I know you don’t want him like you want me.”
I thought she had gone over completely, that she would agree that she would stay with me, forget whatever it was I said to push her away. Right then, I wasn’t thinking about anything other than the way she felt, how she smelled, how much I wanted to keep my mouth over hers. But then, oh god, then she turned her head away. She straightened, refused my kiss.
“No, I don’t.” I knew it. I knew she didn’t want him. Pouncy bollocks could never touch Autumn like that. She took a breath, set her shoulders, then pushed me back, staggered me and I immediately missed the feel of her body squeezing around my finger. “Not yet. But I will. I swear to God I will.”
If she’d hit me, it would have hurt less. She didn’t look at me when she fixed her skirt, when her trembling fingers stumbled over unlocking the door. She was going with him. She was going to walk out of that door and be off with Morrison. She let me touch her. She let me feel her up and she was still going to walk away from me.
“You don’t love him,” I said, holding my breath, waiting to see if she’d deny that.
“I don’t love anyone, Declan.”
And as Autumn left the bathroom, she took my breath, and little bits of my heart right with her. She left me alone with the memory of her warm body and smell of her burning in my mind.