Shared Too (24 page)

“You better get them,” I said, standing and slotting more bread into the toaster.

“Yeah, I will in a minute.” He took a slurp of his coffee. “What are you up to today, baby?”

“I need to nip into the bay, call in at the gallery and drop off Quinn’s suit for dry-cleaning. Oh, and I have a parcel to mail to the girls.”

“We could go for a walk together this morning if the weather’s okay,” Liam suggested, nodding at the window. “Wrap up and go to the farm shop.” 186

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“Oh, if you do can you pick up one of their cheese boards?” Quinn asked, and turned to Eve. “I love picking at cheese when I get back late from the hospital.” I nodded. “Yes, that’s a nice idea. I want more sausages and some fruit pies for the freezer too.”

“The farm shop sounds lovely,” Eve said, taking a bite of the toast I’d buttered and put down in front of her.

Quinn glanced at his watch then scraped back his chair. “It is. I’ll take you next time you come over.”

Eve dropped the toast, stood and reached for her handbag. “Next time?”

“Yes,” Quinn said with a steely note to his tone as he pulled on his suit jacket.

“Next time.”

I studied Eve. There was a shift in her mood today. She wasn’t looking Quinn or me in the eye and she didn’t emit the same sexual interest she had before. Maybe she just wasn’t a morning person, but I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d been conquests which she’d succeeded in triumphing. Quinn had said “next time” and instead of lighting up she’d twitched the side of her mouth and glanced at the door.

“See you later,” Quinn said, pressing his lips to mine. “I’ve got surgery all day so I’ll be late by the time I’ve made sure everyone is stable.”

“Okay.” I touched his baby-smooth jawline. “I’ll get you the cheese and I’ll probably wait up.”

“Only if you’re not too tired.” He smiled and rested his hand on Liam’s shoulder as he stepped past him. “See you later, mate, have a nice walk.”

“Yep, we will.”

“And don’t forget your spectacles.”

187

Lily Harlem

Chapter Thirteen

Liam and I walked for miles with the dogs over the fields, following narrow hiking trails and climbing over stiles and stepping stones. The air was crisp but the sun treated our shoulders to a blanket of warmth even through our jackets.

At the farm shop we shared a pot of tea and Liam ate three cream scones to my one.

I couldn’t stop looking at him in his new spectacles. The black frames were such a contrast to his golden-blond hair and their rectangular shape sat neatly around the outline of his eyes, hiding only the bottom fraction of his thick brows. I didn’t think he’d ever get around to changing them to a different style, so it was just as well they suited him.

We bought cheese, sausages and fruit pies and wandered back the way we’d come.

As we got nearer to home, Liam stopped at a big oak tree and dumped the shopping on the leaf-strewn ground.

“I always wanted to do this,” he said, pulling out his key ring, which held a small folding penknife. He flipped it open.

“What?” I asked. I threw the dogs a stick and rubbed my cold hands together.

“A carving.” He began to scratch at the tree trunk.

“You can’t do that, not on the tree.” I glanced around, expecting an enraged farmer to jump out at us, hollering and shaking his fists.

“Of course I can.”

“I’m sure you’re not supposed to.”

“But it is
our
tree.”

“Is it?” I looked across the paddock and spotted the red-tiled roof of our farmhouse nestled in the slight dip of the hills. We were nearer to home than I thought, I’d been so 188

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lost in our conversation. He was right. It was “our” tree. If he wanted to carve on it he could.

I watched as he scraped out his initial and below it a roughly shaped love-heart.

Beneath he created a capital A.

“I’ve never done that before,” he said, stepping back and admiring his handiwork.

“I felt I was missing out by not having my initial carved into a tree trunk somewhere.”

“It’s nice,” I said, “And it will be there forever.” I took the penknife from him, stepped up to the tree and carved another heart next to my name. The bark was tough and it took a bit of scraping and slicing. Next to the heart I sculpted a wobbly Q.

“Perfectly engraved,” he said as he took the penknife from me. He didn’t put it away. “After last night, do you think Quinn will want more?” He paused. “Do you think one day he might even want to add an E to his heart?” I pulled in a breath and thought of Eve’s distant expression at breakfast. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “No, I don’t think that will happen.”

“You sound certain.” He flicked the penknife away and shoved his keys back into his jacket pocket. “Does that go for you too?”

“You don’t even have to ask that. You know I have no feelings for her—it was a bit of sexy fun, nothing more. Knowing you and Quinn were watching was half the turn-on, more than half the turn-on.” I shrugged. “Besides, I don’t think she’ll be back.”

“You don’t?” His brows lifted high.

“No, she barely acknowledged any of us this morning. Didn’t you notice?”

“I only have eyes for you.” He grinned as he reached for me.

“And for that I am extremely grateful.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him maneuver me so my back was pressed against the tree trunk. “But no, I don’t think she’ll be visiting again. She wanted Quinn, she got him, then she wanted me and that happened too.”

“And she knows hell would freeze over before I put my dick in her.” 189

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I pushed to my tiptoes and kissed him gently. “Eloquently put.”

“I say it how it is,” he whispered onto my mouth. “It was horny seeing you with another girl, doing something new, going with the moment, but it just made me want you more and I didn’t think that was possible.” He kissed me, deeply, passionately, breathlessly. It was as if he were consuming my soul, melting into me and still couldn’t get close enough. The terror and fear of yesterday had only served to intensify our already deep, almost desperate love for each other.

Eventually he broke the kiss and held me close, the cool, stiff material of his jacket pressing onto my cheek as he stroked over my hair, down my back and finally cupped my butt.

“Billy,” I snapped as I heard a doggy nose shuffling into the bag of sausages. “Get out of there.”

Liam released me and scooped up the bags. “Come on. It’s too cold out here to get naked but it’s nice and warm in bed.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” I asked. “You slept all night.”

“I’ll catch up later.”

“But I have to go to the bay. I’ve got dry cleaning and parcels and I’m supposed to be calling in at the gallery to see about―”

“Later,” he said determinedly. “You can go to the bay later. Right now I’m gonna celebrate walking out of that damn hospital with nothing more than a pair of glasses, and I’m gonna celebrate it the best way I know how.” He shifted the bags into one hand, draped his other arm around my shoulder and pressed a kiss to my windblown hair. “With you, baby.”

“Lose this,” Liam ordered ten minutes later, yanking at my red sweater as we climbed the staircase.

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I paused as he tugged the material over my head, then watched as he flung it with a flourish over the bannister. It floated like a clumsy bird and landed softly on the hall floor. With a well-practiced slide of his hand, my bra came loose. As it fell down my arms, he grabbed it and slung it so it caught on the handrail. I giggled, he grunted. My jeans were next, abandoned along with my knickers on the top step, tangled and inside out.

“Hey,” I squeaked as his big, cool hands circled my waist and lifted. “Not fair, you’re still dressed.” I wrapped my legs around his denim-clad hips and locked my ankles in the hollow of his back.

“Not for long,” he muttered. His breath was warm on my cheek and the urgency in his tone caused my naked pussy to jolt toward the hardness behind his fly. “Not for very fucking long,” he groaned, striding fast along the upper hallway into our room and dropping me on the bed.

He shoved one handed at his jeans and paused in a thorough kissing of the hollow of my throat to shuck off his sweater. His spectacles were knocked lopsided and he tossed them on the bed, forgotten. He lay over me, his weight heavy and reassuring as he slid his cock in the first inch of my wet, needy pussy. My internal walls fluttered and twitched trying to tug him higher and in a sudden, slippery rush he gave in to me, pushing and stretching and sliding upward until he was buried to the hilt.

I moaned long and abandoned, flames licking my insides, my body hot and aching for more. He set a steady pace and his expert rocking and caressing my sweetest spot brought me to a swift but deeply satisfying climax. I gasped into his mouth, suspended in a moment of pure bliss before contracting and shaking and shouting how much I loved and needed him. How he made me feel so wonderfully complete.

He came soon after me, long and profound, his head buried in the pillow and his groan of pleasure vibrating straight through my body. The muscles in his smooth, broad back jerked and writhed and shook. Still pulsing, he enfolded me in his arms, 191

Lily Harlem

holding me close and tight and murmuring such beautiful words of adoration that my heart swelled almost painfully with love and joy.

The aftershocks of my orgasm simmered nicely as we held each other and I sighed, feeling utterly content and basking in pure happiness. Liam was going to be all right.

Liam was staying here with me.

* * * * *

My jobs in the bay took until dusk. When I returned home and shooed the hens into their coop and fed the dogs it was as dark as midnight despite being early evening.

Liam was still in his office. I took him cheese melted on toast and a cup of tea. He smiled his thanks and I kissed his head, pleased that he had on his spectacles and the dark circles under his eyes were fading.

I set about tidying the kitchen and sorting out laundry. Betsy was under my feet, on the work surface then on the table and finally tried to nose her way into the fridge to lick an open pot of clotted cream.

“Come on,” I said, scooping her up and taking her into the living room. “Let’s catch up on
Eastenders
.” She purred her approval and nudged my chin with her fluffy cheek.

The dogs trotted behind me, thrilled to be indoors on such a cold night.

I watched my favorite soap with Betsy on my lap and Billy and Drake on the rug.

Caught the end of a romantic comedy film I’d enjoyed a few months earlier and worried my way through the news and weather. Fog and ice was forecast, never good for Quinn traveling home on the un-salted lanes. At quarter to midnight an old rerun of
Sex and the City
came on and I snuggled deeper into the thick, squidgy cushions on the couch and half watched, half dozed as Samantha got up to her usual tricks and Carrie fretted over Big.

Drake lifting his head and Billy’s throat rumbling a low growl forewarned me of Quinn’s arrival in the yard. Thirty seconds later the kitchen door clicked open and shut.

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I glanced at the clock. It was gone one, I must have dozed off. Rubbing my eyes, I heard the fridge open and the bang of a plate on the table.

Switching the TV channel to the twenty-four-hour news, I stretched my limbs, clicking out knots and kinks from sleeping curled in a huddle on the couch. Betsy jumped down from the couch and wandered out of the room as Quinn wandered in. He was carrying a plate of cheese and a glass of water. The dogs got up to greet him, their paws padding softly on the wooden section of the floor.

“Hi,” I said, stifling a yawn.

“Thanks for getting the cheese,” he said, ignoring the dogs. He wore the suit he’d gone to work in that morning, but I knew he’d probably only had it on a few hours. The rest of the day he would have been in his navy theatre scrubs. I liked him in his scrubs, they were sexy as hell, though I’d only seen him in them on a few occasions. The V of the top showed off the hairs on his chest, the short sleeves highlighted his powerful but graceful arms and slim, elegant wrists, and the lightweight material touched his long, lean body in all the right places—over his shoulders, his butt and his thighs.

“How did it go?” I asked. “With Rickard?”

He sat next to me, took a slug of water then placed it along with his supper on the table. “He’s on the ball, loved the setup and assisted all day without a single mistake. In fact he was a great help, had some interesting points to make. I’m very hopeful.” He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the arm of the couch.

“That’s wonderful,” I said, scooting nearer to him and resting my hand on his thigh. “But you look exhausted.” His jawline and over his top lip was dark with stubble and his eyelids looked heavy and weary.

“Yeah, I am.” He sighed.

“What’s the matter?”

He rested back in the chair and locked his hands behind his head. “Did you get into the bay?”

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Lily Harlem

I tilted my head and studied him. “Yes, I posted the girls’ parcel, went to the dry cleaners and met up with Brian Thomas from the Edinburgh gallery.”

“Was he interested in giving you hanging space?”

“Very keen. He likes the smaller prints. In his experience they have a faster turnover than the big ones. He mentioned January.”

“Yours would sell whether they were big or small, you’re by far the most talented artist I’ve ever met.”

“And how many artists have you met?” I asked with a laugh.

He frowned and folded his arms over his chest.

“Well, perhaps,” I said, running my hand up his thigh, “if Rickard works out you could come with me to the launch evening in Edinburgh. We could stay the night in a nice hotel, see the castle, explore Queen Street and you could meet some other artists.” His mouth tipped in a half-smile as he stared at the dying embers in the fire. “That sounds lovely.”