Making Sense (15 page)

“Can’t wait,” she said, knowing she wasn’t far from coming and wanting him inside her. She sat up, undoing his shorts, and he lay back and let her, watching with a hot, lazy smile. Freeing him from his boxers, she stroked him briefly, making him sigh, and then manoeuvred herself on top of him until she felt the tip of his erection part her swollen lips. Then she pushed down with her hips, letting him slide all the way in.

“Oh, man.” He closed his eyes, and she noticed the frown line had disappeared between them, pleasure curving his lips instead as he focussed on nothing but her. Glad she’d been able to distract him, she start to move, sitting upright, her face catching the fragments of sun that fell between the leaves. He reached up a hand to unclip the clasp holding up her hair, and she shook her head and let the blonde tresses fall around her shoulders and tickle between her shoulder blades as she tipped back her head.

She rode him slowly but firmly, desire growing in her belly as he continued to play with her nipples. Clearly, though, she wasn’t fast enough for him, because eventually he held her and flipped her over, supporting himself above her so he didn’t press her into the hard ground as he began to thrust inside her.

She stretched out beneath him, raising her hands above her head, feeling decadent and wicked having sex in the afternoon in the middle of a vineyard where anyone could come across them. But at that moment, hazy with wine and lust and longing, she didn’t care. She looked up at him, knowing she hadn’t quite absorbed everything he’d told her earlier. She’d have to process it later, though, because now she was having trouble concentrating on anything except the feel of his pubic hair against her sensitive spot and the pleasure-pain that seared through her as he sucked her nipple hard. “Nate…” It wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me harder,” she said.

He raised his head to look at her and gave a short laugh, his eyes firing with desire. She watched as he brought two fingers up to his mouth and licked them before moving them down to her butt, lifting her so he could slide his hand underneath. He watched her, eyes dark as he explored gently, his lips hovering over hers as he teased her tight opening and then slowly slid a finger inside.

Freya closed her eyes and moaned, everything tightening in reaction to the unusual, erotic sensation, and he plunged his tongue into her mouth, continuing to torment her with his fingers as he thrust inside her, pulling her to him so he ground against her as he moved. It wasn’t long before her orgasm swept over her, and she cried out as he continued to thrust, his fingers matching the pace of his hips, drawing out her climax as he covered up her loud exclamations with his hot, hungry mouth. Within seconds, he followed her over the edge, swelling deep inside her, and she scraped her nails lightly down his back, enjoying the way he shuddered and gave short, jerky thrusts of his hips, accompanied by low, guttural groans.

Afterward, he lifted himself off her, and they lay side by side, looking up at the oak leaves and sighing as the light breeze blew over their damp skin.

“There are a lot of stones in this grass,” Freya complained as she reached under and plucked a particularly annoying rock from beneath her back.

“Sorry.” He rolled onto his side and stroked her cheek. “Next time I’ll make sure it’s a bed, I promise.”

“Next time?” His comment surprised her, and she arched an eyebrow.

He blinked. “That kind of slipped out. I didn’t mean—”

She laughed and pressed a finger to his lips. “Forget it. Nate, you’re hot, sexy and great in bed. Any time you want to let off some steam, I’m there for you. Otherwise, we’re just friends, and nothing else matters.”

He studied her for a moment and then leaned forward and kissed her. “You’re a very special lady,” he said huskily. “Thank you for listening to my sorry tale today.”

“You’re very welcome. And one day I hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me the whole story.”

Nate thought about Freya’s words all week. And as the days passed, the more he realised he was completely torn in two about her. One half of him was entranced by the beautiful blonde nurse who had proved herself to be as caring and considerate as she was beautiful. No, that was a lie, he thought on the following Friday morning, as he pushed his paperwork to one side and walked over to the window, looking out across Ash’s garden. He had to be honest with himself. The whole of him was entranced by her. He thought about her all the time, picturing her bright blonde hair, her curvy figure, remembering the softness of her pressed against him. That wasn’t in question.

Neither did he regret sleeping with her. How could he? Freya combined innocence with a passionate wonderment about sex, like a tourist new to a country who, once there, threw themselves into learning the language and trying out all the food with vigorous enthusiasm. He’d loved how she’d drawn him into the trees at the vineyard and promptly encouraged him to go all the way, warm under the sun and hazy with wine. And he loved her light, carefree attitude, her sheer delight in him and what they had together, her happiness to live in the moment.

He’d been surprisingly touched by her understanding of his gift and his past, her willingness to listen to his sad story and her gentle assurances that she was on his side and wasn’t asking anything of him. She was perfect for him at the moment—like warm sunny weather on a wedding day, or an ice-cold beer when you’d spent an hour mowing the lawn at the height of summer.
 

Wait a minute—what was he worried about again?

He leaned his arm on the window and his forehead on his arm. The problem was that he wanted more.

He closed his eyes. This was not good. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Having sex with Freya had been about comfort, a brief indulgence that they were both supposed to forget about the minute they walked away. Lord knew he’d done it enough times in the past—sought solace through sex, reassurance that somebody in the world needed him for something other than his “special gift”, without the problem of commitment and heartache. And usually it worked. Sex was good. It relaxed the body, focussed the mind briefly, provided consolation when the stress of daily living proved too much. And sex with Freya had been no different—better, even, because she made him feel good about himself, and her warmth and friendliness gladdened his heart as well as his body.

And there was the problem. Somehow, his heart had got involved.
 

Crap.
 

“Headache?” said Ash, coming into the room behind him.

Nate mumbled something under his breath, walking away from the window. Luckily, he had something else to show Ash to distract him from any impending talk of his love life.

Sex life.
Sex life, Nate. Not love life. Two totally different things.

“I had a letter,” Nate said, picking it off the desk and passing it to Ash before starting to prepare them both a cup of coffee. “This one was sent to me, not you.”

Ash opened it and flicked his gaze over it. Then he slid it back into the envelope and perched on the edge of the desk.

Nate turned the espresso machine on to heat up and turned to study Ash, blinking at Ash’s steady, slightly amused gaze. “What?”

Ash grinned. “What have you two been up to?”

“Eh?”

“You and Freya?”

Nate scratched the back of his neck. “Who told you?”

Ash just smiled. “She’s all around you, mate. Like perfume.”

Nate gave him a wry look and turned to make the coffee. “I forget you’re psychic.” He suppressed the shiver that threatened to run up his spine at the thought of Freya’s presence around him, pressing against him, warm like her body.

“So…are you two dating?”

Nate put the two cups under the nozzle and started the machine. “We’re having sex, if that’s what you mean.”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t, but thanks for that information.”

“Are you going to go all disapproving father on me?”

“Hey, I’m not that old. And I hardly think Grace and I can pass judgement on anyone for having sex too quickly in a relationship. We were at it the first time she came around the house.”

Nate laughed. “Really?”

Ash accepted the coffee from him, grinning. “Yeah. I think we both knew from that very first time that it wasn’t going to be only the once, but we pretended it was only a casual thing for a while.” He sipped the hot coffee, watching Nate over the rim of his cup.

“Very delicately put, Mr. Diplomat. But I’m not planning on letting it develop into anything more.”

“Oh, why not?”

Nate drank his own coffee. “Someone else relying on me is the last thing I need at the moment.”

Ash studied him. “Funny, because I think that’s exactly what you need.”

“Huh?”

“It’s time, Nate.”

“For what?”

“To stop running.” Ash gestured at the letter. “To sort that out. To make a life for yourself here. To accept that you are allowed to have a happy ending, and make decisions about your life yourself.”

Nate’s throat closed up and he put his cup on the bench. “I’m not ready.”

“You are. You just need to accept the fact.”

Nate scrunched the letter up and threw it in the bin. “Why do you keep pushing me? You know what a mess I am.”

“I know what a mess you
were
. And I think you’ve healed, but that you’re clinging to the memory of the pain now, afraid to let it go in case you get hurt again. Which is understandable, but you have to get back in the saddle at some point.”

“I was never in the saddle,” Nate mumbled. “I just held onto the horse’s tail and got pulled along behind in the dirt.”

Ash tipped his head and studied him patiently. “Being a true friend isn’t about sweetness and light. And it’s not always about saying what your mate wants to hear. I’ll leave it for now, because I know when you get that look on your face, you’re shutting off from me and that’s fine. That’s your prerogative. But don’t think I’m going to give up. I’ve invested in you, and I want to see you settled and happy. And I think Freya’s going to be a key part of that. But not until you’re done with the past. You need to settle that first, Nate, or you’ll be carrying too much baggage with you into your next life.”

“Are you talking about karma now?”

“You know I’m not, and don’t change the subject. You need to sort out this thing with your family. And then you’ll be ready for Freya.”

Nate glared at him. “Freya’s got her own issues. She’s not interested in a relationship. Sometimes two people get together for nothing more than sex, Ash. It doesn’t always lead to hearts and flowers.”

Ash finished off his coffee and rinsed out his cup. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. But that’s all I’m seeing around you two. Hearts and flowers. And the sooner you realise that, the happier you’ll be.”

Nate swore at him. Ash laughed and walked off.

Nate sat at his desk and put his head in his hands. It was reassuring that Ash had such faith in him, but Nate knew it was misplaced. He was a rotten seed, weak, cowardly, afraid of his father, unable to stand up for himself. Too scared of the past to move forward into the future, wanting only to exist in the present. Freya was everything to him at the moment—she occupied most of his waking thoughts, and he hungered for her, as he’d never hungered for a woman in his life. Not just to have sex with her, but to hold her, be soothed by her, lose himself in her. But it was a phase. He went through it occasionally with chocolate. Craved Twixes like they were going out of fashion, and ate several a day for weeks until suddenly one day he’d get bored and change to Moro Bars. He had to recognise this for what it was—a crush, an infatuation. And he didn’t want to hurt her by pretending it was anything more.

Nate glanced out of the window. It was a beautiful day, humid and hot, perfect for the barbecue and pool party Ash and Grace had planned for the early evening. Freya would be there, and it was important that he maintained some distance and kept things friendly but cool.

Would she be wearing a bikini?
 

He lowered his head onto the desk. There was no hope for him—none whatsoever.

Chapter Thirteen

“Definitely the blue one,” said Mia, nodding appreciatively at Freya’s choice of swimwear. “You look hot. Not that I’m turning into a lesbian or anything, but I’d do you, given half a chance.”

Freya laughed and slipped on shorts and a T-shirt over the top of the bikini. “Things not going well with Ross?”

Mia shrugged. “It was never the romance of a lifetime. He was convenient, you know? I mean, I know that sounds callous, but it was the same for him. We were under no illusions about our relationship.”

“So it’s definitely over?”

“Yeah, I reckon.” She didn’t seem devastated. “Anyway, enough of my miserable love life. Tell me about yours.”

“Mine is no less miserable, believe me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me about hunky Nate sexing you up in the vines.”

Freya stared at her, startled. “How did you know about that?”

“Honey, everyone knew about it—we were just too polite to say anything when you came back from your refreshing walk with grass stains on your butt and oak leaves in your hair. And the smug smile on both your faces.”