Loving Hard (Single Ladies' Travel Agency Book 3) Page 9

I’ve had sex. Lots of it. I’ve been in love, even. At least I think I have.

  But I’ve never experienced the sensation of lightning shooting through me into this particular place in my chest. I feel as though some small door inside me just opened, inviting light to cast a warm glow over my insides.

  Women are very good at expressing their feelings, at opening up, at revelling in sensation. But men seldom talk to one another about the excitement of a woman’s touch. We pretend we’re above it all; that we simply want to bounce into bed, get our rocks off and flee for our lives without risk of closeness. Intimacy is a sentiment most males frown upon.

  But I don’t. I never have. Conlon mocks me for it, but I’m confident enough to take it. I embrace sensation; I embrace lust and desire. Right now I feel close to Riley, and it means something to me.

  I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be connected to another person. To want to touch one another so badly that it’s all but impossible to hold back.

  I’d forgotten the hunger, the want, the need.

  But I’ve never experienced them so acutely as with her. Maybe it’s our rules that have done this to me. Maybe she’s forbidden fruit, so I desire her all the more.

  All I know for certain is that she’s beautiful, and I curse whatever circumstances mean that we can’t be together. I curse the Atlantic Ocean for existing, because it means that in a few weeks she and I will be very, very far apart. I curse her idiot of an ex for letting her go and injuring her as he did.

  But I thank him, too, for unwittingly steering her towards me. The fool has no idea what he’s done.

  “Your punishment?” I say, my lips curled into a smile I can’t seem to dismiss around her. “Well, about forty things come to mind.”

  “You have to pick one that doesn’t break the rules,” she replies, laughing. God, I love that laugh of hers. It sends a shock of pure, unadulterated bliss through my body that stirs my cock to life.

  “All right,” I say, “then tell me more about your ex.”

  She goes slightly pale and her smile fades. All of a sudden I feel like I’ve asked her for something terrible, when the truth is that I only want to be closer to her. If I can’t touch her, I want access to her mind.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I know you’ve already said a bit…”

  “It’s fine,” she replies. “If I look horrified, it’s because…” She looks away for a moment, as though she’s outright avoiding my eyes. Something about the topic has struck a serious nerve. Strange, because the other day she was able to speak of him without seeming too anxious.

  “Because?” I ask, leaning forward in an attempt to extract something—anything—from her.

  “God, this will sound awful. It’s just…I’d forgotten that I had an ex,” she says slowly, pulling her eyes back to mine. “I’d forgotten that I was on the verge of spending my life with someone. Wow, you must think I’m a horrible person for saying that..”

  “Not at all.” Actually, I’m rather pleased.

  “The thing is,” she says, leaning her elbows on the table and driving her fingers into her curly brown hair, “I’ve realized that I didn’t run away to England because I was hurting. I didn’t run away because my heart was broken.” She looks away again. I can feel the shame radiating off her like heat. “I ran away because I felt guilty.”

  “Guilty?” I ask in wonder. “But I thought your fiancé—Chuck, or Louis, or Putzy McGillicuddy, or whatever his name is—cheated on you.”

  “He did,” she says. “But you know what’s crazy?”

  “What?”

  “I’m sort of grateful now. He saved me from what would probably have been a terrible life in a lot of ways. I…I’m not sure anymore that I ever actually loved him, Galen.”

  That’s…quite a revelation. Wow. I’ve never really had this friends-only thing with a woman.

  It’s rather intense.

  “So it’s all for the best, then,” I offer, trying to see the glass as half full.

  “I know it’s for the best,” she tells me. “The truth is that I should have broken up with him ages ago. The moment he proposed to me, I choked, like I knew it was the wrong thing for us both.”

  “So why did you say yes, then?”

  Riley shrugs, her lips turning down in a frown of surrender. “I guess I felt obligated. Like I’d made a commitment, and I couldn’t get out of it without a really damn good reason. Because I felt like that’s what you do after a few years together. People were always asking me where the ring was. It seemed like fate was guiding us in that direction. Plus, my sister, Susan, she’s Miss Perfect. She can do no wrong. She’ll end up with a perfect husband, perfect children. Hell, she already owns a house with a white picket fence. I love her, don’t get me wrong. But for once, I sort of wanted to be the sister who got attention for the right reasons. I mean, do you think my family likes the fact that I’m a professional blogger who’s now single and living in a rental while I pull my life back together?”

  Suddenly I’m a little annoyed with her judgmental family, even if I’ve never met them. I press my back into my chair and cross my arms over my chest. “They should like it, if blogging makes you happy,” I say.

  “You haven’t met my parents, clearly,” she says with a cynical little chuckle.

  “Even so, I want you to know that I understand what you’re telling me on all fronts. There are only two reasons I’ve managed to avoid being pressured into marriage and children and all that normal rubbish myself.”

  “What are they?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “One,” I say, holding up my prosthetic hand and clenching it into a fist. “No one pressures the poor lad with one arm to do anything. The assumption from the beginning is that I’m too fucked to have a healthy relationship.”

  “Okay. Fair enough. I’ll make a mental note to get a new limb. And two?”

  “Two is Conlon, whom I hope you meet very soon. He has always been the black sheep of our family, and thanks to his multitude of dysfunctional fuckups, his philandering and his general arseholishness, I’ve gotten off easy. He’s saved me from judgment.” As I’m speaking, it occurs to me that there’s another reason. “Three,” I add, “is my father, who’s had his ups and downs. Well, this is jolly good. I’m just now realizing how utterly disastrous my family is.”

  Riley’s got the sweetest look on her face, like she wants to smile and cry at the same time. I think—I hope—it’s helping her to know she has a sympathetic ear. To realize that she’s not alone.

  “I suspect you’re fond of Conlon in the same way that I’m fond of Susan,” she tells me. “You want to punch him, but you love him.”

  “Pretty well,” I say, cracking a smile. “I want to punch him less than I used to, though. He’s a grownup now, what with the woman and serious relationship and all. He’s really fucking happy.” I take a swig of my beer. “I’m happy for the way his life has turned out. Adriana has been really good for him.”

  “Good. They say a healthy relationship can do that to a person. Though what the hell do I know?” Riley’s leaning forward, her arms inadvertently squeezing her breasts together. I stare at them for a second, temporarily dismissing the rules from my mind as my eyes trace the lovely line of her cleavage. Fuck, I want to slip my tongue over it so badly that I’m all but drooling on myself.

  “If I told you you were ogling me, would you plead guilty?” she asks. Her tone has changed, her voice deepening, like some sensual hormone has released inside her body.

  I nod wordlessly. “Totally worth it, though,” I say, not taking my eyes off those succulent orbs of perfection.

  “Then I’m afraid you’re due for another punishment, Mr. Davies.”

  “Name it,” I say, pulling my eyes to hers. Uh-oh. She’s got a look on her face that reflects my own desire back at me.

  “I want…” she begins, pulling closer. The way her lips move as she utters the words makes it very, very hard for me not to kiss her. I’m seri
ously considering it when a high-pitched woman’s voice pierces the air from somewhere to my right, utterly destroying the mood we’ve created.

  “Well, blimey, if it isn’t the long-lost Galen Davies!”

  Correction: a very familiar woman’s voice. A voice I didn’t want to hear tonight, or ever again, for that matter.

  Wincing, I turn in my chair and look to my right. A giant pair of breasts greets my eyes, so familiar that I could identify them in the dark with my hands tied behind my back.

  “Britney,” I moan, my eyes quickly dragging up to meet her own.

  Big Tits Brit, Conlon always called her. My on again, off again, on again, off again, ridiculous ex-girlfriend. Ours was an ill-conceived relationship, utterly unhealthy and dysfunctional.

  Aside from the sex, which was plentiful and relatively pleasant.

  As I stare at her, it hits me: she’s the last woman I shagged. Hers is the last pussy that I licked. The last nipples I sucked. I have been abstinent since the last time I was naked with Brit.

  It’s no wonder I’m so fucked in the head right now.

  I rise to my feet and give her a brief, loose hug, not knowing what else to do. The moment I realize that she’s squeezing her breasts into my chest, I pull away and throw Riley a guilty glance.

  “How are you?” Brit asks, pressing herself far too close to me. She hasn’t gotten the hint, apparently. Hasn’t figured out that since I’m sitting with another woman, perhaps it would be best not to shove her weapons of mass destruction at me. I always did have a weakness for her tits. Though now, oddly enough, they’re only serving to annoy the piss out of me. I don’t want them anymore.

  Actually, there are only two breasts in this world with which I’d like to acquaint myself, and both are positioned on the opposite side of the table.

  “I’m well,” I say. “Brit, this is Riley.” Quickly I gesture to my non-date who should definitely be my date. The woman I’ve kissed once, but would like to kiss a thousand times at least. The woman who’s not my girlfriend, but who should be.

  The woman who tests the very limits of my self-control.

  “Hi there,” Britney says, tossing Riley an all-too-quick smile before looking back at me. “I miss you, Gale,” she says inconsiderately, her lower lip going all pouty. God, she used to do that all the time and it would destroy me. She’d give me one pathetic look and we’d end up in bed, my mouth all over her…

  Nope. Not going to think about that. My balls could turn the most horrific shade of deep blue and I still won’t give her another thought. I want Riley. I have feelings for her. I am a one-woman man, even if I can’t have the damned woman.

  “I should go,” Riley says, rising to her feet to slip her jacket on.

  Shite. I can hear her voice catching in her throat. She’s upset, and I can’t really blame her. I’m not handling this situation well at all. In my defence, though, I don’t really understand what this situation is.

  “No,” I say, turning to her. But from the look on her face, she means it. I turn back to my ex. “Listen, Brit, we’ve got to leave.”

  “We, is it?” says Britney, her voice turning cold as she glares at Riley. “I see.”

  “It’s not like that,” says Riley, zipping up her jacket and flinging her purse over her shoulder. “Not at all. We’re not sleeping together. We’re not even dating. Bye, Galen.”

  She storms towards the door as I stand there, torn between two women, neither of who is my girlfriend, but both of whom are currently making my life a living hell.

  Well, this is not how I envisioned the evening turning out.

  Twelve

  Riley

  “Riley!”

  I can hear his voice behind me, but I don’t want to turn around. I don’t want to pretend I’m okay, because I’m not.

  I’m halfway down the block already, after sprinting out of the pub. The tears are streaming down my cheeks, unrelenting evidence that my attachment to Galen has grown way too intense. I know those tears shouldn’t be there. It’s ridiculous for me to feel anything. He’s my tour guide, for crap’s sake, not my lover. He’s not mine, and that’s mostly because I said from day one that he couldn’t be. If anyone was responsible for coming up with the stupid rules, it was me.

  Ten months, I keep telling myself. Ten months, then I can have whatever I want.

  Fuck, why did it drive me so nuts to see another woman pushing her massive chest into his face? Why did I hate that so much, if I’m not even supposed to like Galen as anything more than a friend?

  Stupid question.

  I know the answer as well as I know my own name.

  Because I don’t want to wait ten months. I want him now. I want to know that he’s as attracted to me as I am to him. I don’t want to have to think about other women. I don’t want to compete.

  I want him to be mine.

  He’s caught up to me; I can hear his footsteps behind me now.

  “Riley, please stop fleeing from me like you’re Usain Bolt going for another sodding gold.”

  When I don’t stop, I feel his hand grabbing my right arm. He’s not letting me go, and after a very weak attempt to free myself, I let him halt me in my tracks. I feel the heat of his body as he presses himself into my back.

  “She’s my ex-girlfriend,” he laments, his breath stroking heat on my neck. “Very crucial emphasis on the ex. She’s nothing to me at this point, and never really was.”

  “It’s fine, it doesn’t matter,” I tell him, refusing to turn around for fear that he’ll see the streams of mascara that are no doubt streaking my cheeks. “It’s totally fine. I just thought I should leave you two alone. It was pretty obvious that she wanted you to herself, and who am I to get between…?”

  “I didn’t want to be left alone with her, or anyone,” he interrupts. “Damn it all, Riley, I don’t like you leaving me.”

  “Well, that’s what I do,” I reply, allowing myself to lean back into him a little, my body surrendering. My heart’s beating hard and fast now. It feels far too good to touch him like this, to speak intimately with him, like we’re alone in the world.

  But I’m not supposed to be intimate. I’m supposed to keep my distance. “The plan is I leave you, and you leave me,” I moan. “That’s our deal. So I think I should go back to my place.” His hands are on my hips now, his broad chest easing into my shoulders. There’s something else, too. Something gorgeous and incredible and very, very hard, springing to life in his jeans. I can feel a massive erection pressing against me, and it only makes me want him all the more.

  Never has a woman been so full of lust and devastation at the same time.

  “Go back to your place alone, you mean,” he says. He doesn’t ask. He just says it.

  “Alone,” I repeat.

  “Fine. But before you go, answer me one question.”

  “What question?” I ask, my breath hitching in my throat.

  “What were you going to ask me for back there, when I broke the rules? What is it that you wanted from me?”

  If only I could give him the answer.

  A kiss. That was what I wanted to say. I want another kiss. I want to taste him again, but this time I want more than that. I want him naked. I want him inside me. I want to give myself over to the feeling that the ground has dropped out from under us.

  “I can’t remember,” I lie.

  Galen lets go of me, slipping around me so that he can look me in the eye. “You do,” he tells me in a quiet, commanding voice. “I know you do. I can read you like my favourite book. But I don’t know how your story ends, Riley. You’re the one in control of that.”

  “If you can read me so well, tell me, what did I want?” I ask him miserably.

  “Hmm.” He presses the tip of his index finger to his chin as though he’s thinking hard. “I can’t say that I know. There is one thing that I am sure of, however.”

  “Oh yeah?” I ask. He’s being cute, and it’s pissing me off. Stop it. Stop charming me wh
en I’m trying to convince myself to walk away.

  “You want to come to lunch with me tomorrow.”

  “Lunch?” Okay, that’s not even remotely what I expected him to say. “Why lunch?”

  A sly smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “It turns out that Conlon and Adriana will be in town. Conlon’s got a meeting first thing in the morning with his board, then we’re doing lunch. I want you to come out with us. I want you to meet them. I would have asked you earlier, but we were so rudely interrupted…anyhow, please say yes.”

  My heart’s pounding like crazy. I’m being assaulted by nervousness, flattery, affection, terror, all rolled into one insane, nausea-inducing emotion.

  He wants me to meet his genius brother.

  Oh, God. I want to. I really do. But it’s a horrifying thought, too. What if Conlon doesn’t like me? What if he thinks I’m a screwed up mess of a woman?

  “Wait. You’re talking about the Conlon who designed your arm? The one who will think we’re shagging?” I ask, wiping the backs of my hands over my cheeks to minimize the mascara damage. “The Conlon who will think you’ve fallen in love again and mock you endlessly?”

  “The very same,” he nods. “So, what do you say?”

  “You don’t care that you’ll have to explain that you’re nothing more than my glorified tour guide, who, by the way, has taken me to almost nothing but pubs this whole time?”

  Galen chuckles. “So, you’re saying I’m an excellent tour guide, then. Conlon will approve whole-heartedly. As for the other bits, I don’t care what he thinks of our relationship. I just want him to meet you. You two would enjoy each other, and you’d love Adriana.”

  “Fine, then,” I reply. “I’ll come to lunch.”

  I must be insane. Yes. Definitely insane. But for some reason, I really want to meet Conlon. I want to meet Adriana. I want to know that relationships can be good, even between a woman who’s come over from the U.S. and found herself involved in a totally inconvenient romance with an Englishman. I want to know that some people have happy endings, even if there’s no hope for me.