Warren chuckled, dragging her away from the leaves. He didn’t give a shite about a bit of a sting; his entire skin blazed with how he felt for her. “It’s fine.”
He made to kiss her again, but was met with her forehead as her eyes darted around the field. “We can find dock leaves.”
“Eiley.” He drew her attention back with a soft hand, enamoured, somehow, by her need to help such a tiny, insignificant discomfort.Thatwas who she was, he thought. Behind the anger and the upset was a gentle woman who would stop kissing him to take away a sting. “I don’t need dock leaves. I need you.”
A laugh whooshed from her as she melted back into him. She nibbled his lower lip tentatively, unsure, the nip of teeth distracting him from the rash around his ankle.
“Fuck, Eiley.” As much as he didn’t want to pull away, he was aching to do this properly. “We’re not doing this outside again. Get back over the fence.Please.”
Eiley’s climb was clumsier this time, and so was his. As soon as they were on the same side, he hauled her up, desperate to get her inside his van.
She squealed, a laughter he’d never heard from her before rippling out as she hooked her arms around his neck, legs around his hips. He led them back to the van while barely taking his mouth from hers, fingers sinking into the plush of her arse with perfect ease.
He set her down only when he had to open the van, key trembling against the lock. Her confusion returned, soon replaced with surprise when the door slid open.
She took in the small home he’d made for himself: a cosy double bed with tartan sheets, fairy lights around his shelf fixtures, a tiny kitchen corner to brew and wash up with a mini fridge tucked under the counter. It wasn’t much, but it kept him comfortable and meant his build funds wouldn’t be drained by rent and utilities. The only thing he missed washis own bathroom, but the station’s showers were right enough for now.
“Wait … youlivein here?”
“Aye.”
“For … fun?” Eiley peeked inside as though she’d never seen anything like it.
“It’s cosy. Cheaper than a flat.”
And temporary, he considered adding, but the truth cowered behind a locked door today. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t tell her that the house behind them was his yet. Perhaps because if he did, he’d also have to tell her what had led him here. Why building this house was so important. Why he’d chosen the place she only knew as the old, abandoned farmhouse. It had never been something he’d wanted to share. As a teen, he’d been known as that poor wee orphan lad who had watched his house burn to the ground. The sympathy had chased him everywhere – and the loneliness, because nobody could understand the sort of guilt that came with being the only survivor of a tragedy that devastating. Nobody knew how to talk to a boy who had lost everything.
He was grateful when Eiley stepped inside without further questions, and he followed, head ducked to avoid banging it on the ceiling.
“Efficient, too, under the circumstances,” he remarked lightly, though he wondered if she’d already changed her mind.
But Eiley turned around, eyes fixed on the outline of his erection jutting against his loose grey jogging shorts. “Comfier than a tree.”
“How long do we have?”
“I need to get back to my sister’s at four. She has the kids today.”
He glanced at his smart watch and grinned. “Hours to kill, then.”
She fell back onto the bed, already reaching for the hem of his T-shirt. He took a long breath, peeling it off and leaving it on the floor. If she cared about the dried sweat clinging to his skin, she didn’t show it, drinking in his bare torso with something like awe. Her feather-light hands roamed the planes of his chest and stomach. When she followed the dark line of his happy trail towards his waistband, his belly twitched against her, entire body helpless and overeager for anything she’d offer.
But he had other plans first, easing her fingers away gently. “Not yet, firecracker. Do you remember what I said the other day? What I wanted?”
A coy nod.
“Will you let me taste you?” It was a plea more than a question.
She tilted her head. “I … I haven’t been with anyone else but Finlay. Ever. I might be … rusty.”
God, he wondered what a man like him had done to deserve her. All of her. By the sounds of it, the answer was not a lot. Warren was desperate to give her every shred of pleasure possible. “We can go slow.”
“That’s not …” She looked down; gulped. “My body changed a lot when I had kids.”
He rested a knee before her on the bed, frowning. “You don’t think I’ll like what I see?”
“I don’t know. I’m still learning to like it. This is very, very new to me.”
How could she not see how much he wanted her? How fucking sexy she was?
