The First Touch (Templer Series) (2 page)

“Get your keys ready and I’ll take you in” he gently puts a hand on my arm to stop me as I nudge the door handle open. I shake my head again but do as I’m told. The sooner this guy is out of my
hair, the better, because he’s a complete pain in the ass.

Chapter Three

Once
we’re inside, he carries me across the lounge to my sofa, and lays me down gently. He crouches beside me and lays a hand on my ankle.

“Freezer?
I’ll get some ice” He stands and nods in the direction he assumes is the kitchen. Not hard to work out in such a tiny cottage. Before, I have a chance to argue, he’s up and off out of the room. Seconds later, he has a bag of peas wrapped in a tea towel and striding back into the room. Crouching again, he places the ice wrap onto my ankle and I visibly wince as the shock of the coldness hits the swelling on the ankle. He swallows hard and instinctively grabs for my hand. The touch of him, flesh on flesh, sends a familiar jolt of tingling up my arm, strong enough to feel in the depth of my stomach. I intake sharply, jerking my hand away from him. I need him to go. I can feel the flush stinging on my cheeks.

“I think you should leave me now. Please.” I avoid eye contact and twist my fingers in my lap.

“If you’re really sure…you are ok?” I can feel his concerned eyes seeking reassurance but I don’t look up. I nod, wanting him gone.

He stands with a shrug, and continues to look at me, breathing deep in a sigh, before placing my car keys on my mantelpiece, closing the door gently behind him. Suddenly, I feel weary and overwhelmed and I don’t really know why. I hop and struggle up the stairs to my bedroom, shake off my clothes, and climb into bed. Moments later, sleep overtakes me.

Lips plump and slightly parted brush gently across my bottom lip, a tongue soft and warm strokes there, and I feel my own lips part to accept it. The tender touch as both our lips connect sends a soft groan from my mouth. Gentle pressure now, his tongue searching for the gap in my lips, seeking it and entering. His tongue dancing and circling my mouth sending heat to the core of my sex. I feel myself arch towards him, craving more, lifting my hands to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer to me. Wanting, needing more. I feel the heat of his breath as he groans softly, and for a split second my eyes flick open, meeting the deepest blue eyes….

My eyes snap open. I’m clammy, warm and breathing heavy.
The first signs of morning light breaking entry into the room. I slide a hand down past the small round of my stomach towards my clit and the folds of my sex. My clit is super sensitive to my touch and I’m wet. I circle a finger across my clit and instantly I arch with need. Orgasm is but moments away, a few more strokes and I will feel the release as tightness is already building within me. My eyes squeezed tight throw another image of those blue eyes into my mind and just as suddenly I stop, sit myself up and swing my legs out of the bed.

I gingerly put weight on my right foot. It’s still delicate but not nearly as painful so I’m able to shuffle into the bathroom. I need a cooling shower to scrub the images away from my dream. Ten minutes later, I’m dried and into a long sloppy t-shirt and boy shorts. I scrape my long hair into a
clip pilling it into a pineapple knot on the top of my head. My fair eyelashes framing my green eyes are crying out for some mascara and definition so I indulge myself.
Who cares if it’s only me who will notice?

I hop, shuffle and hop again down my stairs needing coffee and some food. I’m famished
, realising I haven’t eaten since lunchtime yesterday. Before I can get the coffee pot going, a sharp knock at the door makes me jump. Muttering to myself, I shuffle towards the front door. Who the hell is here at eight o’clock in the morning? Too early for the postman. I’m lucky if I see mail before midday most days.

“Hang on…I’m coming!” I shout out.

I swing the door open and stop dead. I open my mouth to utter a swear word but emptiness fills the air.

“Morning.”
He flashes me a huge smile and holds up a paper bag, thrusting it in my direction. I am aware I am still standing open mouthed and make every effort to not look like a fish. I don’t succeed.

“
I wanted to check you were ok after yesterday. I brought breakfast as a bit of a softening blow to my…um…well, I thought you might like a bagel” he smiles again but sheepishly this time.

“What the
.. It’s eight o’clock in the morning!!” I’m exasperated and can feel anger flushing from my neck upwards into my face.

“It’s just a bagel and another attempt to say sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you again. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come” He
snaps sharply, his jaw tensing. He peeks at me through thick, black lashes and makes a turn to leave.

Now I feel unduly rude, and uncomfortable, suddenly remembering my dream from earl
ier. Again, I want him gone but find myself asking..

“What’s in the bagel
s or do they toasting?”

“Smoked salmon and cream cheese.
But I forgot the coffee. Sorry” He turns back toward me and cocks his head to the side, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I can do coffee.” I fake huffiness and open t
he door wider to let him squeeze past me.

H
e lowers his head to enter the door, brushing past me. I inhale deeply as we briefly touch and I feel the surge of electricity that I really don’t want to feel. The same earthy, musk scent of yesterday reaches my nostrils as I scuttle around him. I’m edgy again as I feel warmth in my stomach, pushing down to between my thighs, and I don’t want to feel this.

“I
– I – I’ll get the coffee pot on.” I stutter like a silly teenager. “Please sit, I won’t be long” I glance in his direction, taking in his height. I was right, about 6ft 2 inches. He’s dressed casually in distressed jeans and a white shirt, left hanging loose. It moulds itself across his wide shoulders emphasising the muscular framework underneath. His skin is golden tanned and a hint of shadowy stubble is etched on his square jaw. He is quite possibly the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

I grind the coffee beans and flick on the kettle. Reaching for two mugs, I’m muttering to myself and shaking my head.
I don’t care how beautiful you are. I need you gone, and soon.
I turn to the fridge and almost jump out of my own skin as I swing into a solid chest. My breasts collide with him and I mentally berate myself for not wearing a bra at this very moment, my nipples suddenly twitching erect through my old t-shirt. It’s only in this flash moment that I realise that I’m only wearing boy shorts panties as well.
Christ, I’m virtually naked in front of this stranger!

“I didn’t mean to startle you…I thought you might want a hand. You’re still unsteady on your feet. Are you still in a lot of pain?”

“It’s much better, thank you.” I mumble. “And I’ve just realised I’m not dressed fully”
Fuck, did I just say that out aloud?
I can feel the cringe creep across me but I feel welded to the spot.

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed…..honestly” he laughs and as I peek up, I see his eyes are wide and playful.

I rush through finishing the coffee, slide a bagel each onto tea plates, and usher a motion to him to return to the lounge. Sitting cross-legged on the sofa, I sink my teeth into the bagel, suddenly just needing food more than fuelling more embarrassment. I can’t be more self-conscious than I have been over the last few minutes, and as I’ll never see him again, I give in to it, accept my humiliation and dive in to the delicious smelling breakfast. Oh, this is seriously good, and I’m unaware as I release a loud groan.

“This is….are you ok?” I shoot him a puzzled look and he’s shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes wider than ever and staring fully at me.

“I’m good…good” he coughs brushing an invisible crumb from his chest.

“Oh, ok…I was just saying…this bagel is seriously good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Look, I think I need to shoot…um, get to work” he stands swiftly to his feet, dropping his half eaten bagel back onto his plate. Quick strides and he’s swung my front door open. Turning back towards me, he shuffles slightly.

“I still feel crap about yesterday. Can I apologise properly? And then I’ll be out of your hair for good, I promise.”

Raising my hands in frustration, I shake my head at him “I don’t need any more apologies…please…get to work, I’m fine.”

“Please? I’d like to say sorry properly. Cook you a meal. I do a mean
steak. Do you like steak?” Again, his head lops to the side and the impish grin is back.

Now I’m shaking my head vigorously. “No, no…I don’t….don’t”

“It’s not a date…just a meal. Then you’ll never have to see me again.”

I sigh deeply and somehow I hear myself reluctantly agreeing to see him again
. Tomorrow night. At Seven Thirty.

“I’ll get Thomson to pick you up, ok? Seven Thirty. That way if you want a glass of wine, you don’t need to worry about your car or driving.
Until tomorrow then” and before I can utter a response, he strides down the path and is gone.

Why would his friend pick me up? But then he called him Sir yesterday so is he an employee or colleague?
Maybe I’ll ask him tomorrow night.

Chapter Four

I stare at my reflection in the full length mirror in my bedroom, twisting for a back view, and turning back again to face myself.
It’s 7.00pm so I have another half hour to decide the finishing touches, accessorize, or change again. This is my third outfit. I’m having dinner with the most beautiful man on the planet, and pride makes me want to at least try to look my very best. I know I’m not beautiful, and certainly couldn’t compare to Mia my stunning former top model best friend forever, but I am pretty, or so I have been told.

I step closer to the mirror and stare at my face, wrinkling my nose at my damn smattering of freckles. I have chosen to leave my hair down, straightening it within an inch of its life, so it swings curtain-like to a few inches past my shoulders. The hair mask has done its trick and it shines with pearl blonde highlights. I have done a smoky eye, not too much, but enough to draw out the green from my iris. My lips are nude, bar a slick of rose gloss.

I settle for the third outfit. A simple black wide leg trouser pant and a matching black silk halter top. At five foot five, I can just about get away with a wide trouser, without drowning my frame. I search for suitable foot wear. Simon, my cheating, miserable ex, was generous with gifts and showered me with expensive shoes and handbags
probably to distract me from his screwing around!
So I plump for the Oscar de la Renta gladia cut out leather sandals teamed with my black Marni clutch.

I start to make my way down the stairs as a polite two taps on my door stops me momentarily. Suddenly, I feel nerves drying my mouth and consider backing out. I’m still raw from Simon and it feels too early to be in the company of another man.
It’s not a date. Not…a…date.
Another two taps on my door. I take another gulp of air and blow out harshly, opening the door. Another gulp of air and I’m gawping, yes, gawping…

Thomson is stood, suited and booted, gesturing toward the
Gullwing door of the passenger side of a SLS AMG Mercedes. It is sleek, very sleek, and I’m smart enough to know it’s VERY expensive. I’m still gawping, catching the glint of a smirk on his face.

“Good evening, Miss Teague”

“Um, good evening, Thomson” I finally breath out words and slide into the car. The inside is sleek pale grey leather, soft and warm to the touch, the seat almost wrapping itself around my small frame.

We head out of the village and there is silence between us. I’m mentally still taking this in.
Whose car is this? Is it Drew’s?
Finally, a question escapes from my lips.

“Um, is this your car?”

“No, Miss Teague, this is Drew’s driving car” he’s staring directly ahead at the road.

“So he doesn’t drive the campervan every day then?”

A small almost laugh before “No, Miss, only to the beach” he’s abrupt but polite, obviously not a conversationalist. I press for more.

“Do you work for him? What does he do for a living?”
Mental note to self…why didn’t I Google and Facebook search him before agreeing to get in this car…I’m so stupid….I broke rule number one

“I am employed by Mr
Templer, Yes, Miss”

“And the next part…you didn’t respond to that? What does he do for a living?”

“Perhaps you should have Googled him, Miss” again abruptly but this time throwing me a side glance. I flush as though he has managed to read my mind.

“Ok, then. Where are we going?” I’m huffy now and a bit more than edgy.

“Mawgan Porth”

What!
Mawgan Porth? That’s just over twenty five miles away! What if…what if I need to run….
I’m mentally berating myself again.
Stupid.
Stupid.
Suddenly, I feel a need to feel safe and reassured.

“
If…if I want to leave early…will you return me home as soon as I ask?”