Where the Streets have no Name (7 page)

BOOK: Where the Streets have no Name
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“Jaysus, lass,” Daniel breathed at her jaw. He kept thrusting against her core, lips dancing over her jaw. “We…we shouldn’t…”

Don’t stop!

One last lingering press then he jumped off her. “I…” Daniel scrunched his face. He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

He stormed to the other end of the caravan and
pulled the sliding door shut. It didn’t have the same sound as slamming a door, but the effect was much the same.

He was sorry.

He didn’t mean it.

He was stuck with her. That’s all she was to him; a burden.

Amelia did what she always did when the world came crashing down around her. From her purse sitting next to her bed, she pulled out her laptop and headphones, cranked some serious mind-numbing metal, and got to work designing her next game. Immersing herself in work made everything better.

Usually.

Not this time.

 

 

 

What in the goddamned bloody hell had he been thinking? Daniel scrubbed a hand over his jaw. His cock throbbed
. No, it feckin’ ached to be back where it’d just been. God, but she felt so hot. So damned lovely wrapped around him. Taking what she wanted…needed.

You’re the biggest arse in the history of mankind
.

He wanted her.
Didn’t just want her, no, he needed her. Her affections acted like a balm healing the cracked and broken shards of his heart and soul. No amount of hiding from her was going to change that simple fact.

I should go back out there and explain.

But what if that made things worse? What if, by getting hot then cold around her, he made her suspicious of him and she went digging around in his past? Could she do that?

Damn, but he didn’t even know if it was possible. He never claimed to be the brightest student and who knew what kind of advancements the world made while he was locked away. For most of his incarceration, Daniel had been kept in solitary. The corrections officers told him it was for his own good; to give him time to think about what he’d done.

Aye, he learned no one could be trusted. Not even his own countrymen.

He wanted to trust Amelia. So far she gave him no reason to distrust her
. So why did she tie his insides up in knots and make him lose his mind?

Daniel stopped pacing and grabbed his hair by the roots, fisting a handful of overgrown locks in each hand.
He couldn’t remember when he started pacing in the first place. She did that to him, took him from the present and dragged him elsewhere. A fantasy land where he wasn’t a colossal screw up who ruined everything he touched.

They were dead because of him. His entire family. If only he’d just sat on that goddamned chair a little longer, he’d be dead and they’d still be alive.
If only he chose not to follow that gorgeous lass he spotted across the street. If only he hadn’t gone up north in the first place. If only he’d listened to his Ma…

All the ‘if onlys’ in the world weren’t capable of bringing them back. Nothing could undo what was done–

A crash in the main caravan area stole his attention back to the here and now. Next came a sorry attempt at a curse word. That she could make him smile when his heart lay on the floor, twisted and torn, was no small miracle.

Pushing the sliding accordion-style door open, Daniel stepped into the hall/kitchen to survey the area. The sight had him hiding his laughter while he rushed ov
er to help Amelia up. The table/bed had somehow come apart, leaving her on the floor.

“Ugh, okay, I think we need to stop with the fried foods. My
butt is getting way too big.”

He pulled the lass to her feet, grinning.

“Oh, you think this is funny?”

“No, sorry.” Lifting her into his arms, Daniel carried Amelia to the sofa lining the wall across from the table/bed
where he set her down gently. “I’m sorry, Amelia. My head…it’s not in any right place at the moment.”

He looked into her eyes. Where he expected anger he saw understanding.

Did she know?

No. She couldn’t.

“I think we should make up some pizzas, get drunk, and go to bed,” Amelia said. “Can you pass me my laptop?”

He’d never seen such a small computer. Like a book. His Ma and Da couldn’t afford a computer when he’d lived with them
.

Daniel handed her the laptop and set about heating up two pizzas for them. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he watched her fingers fly over the keys. What was she doing?
What did she do for a living? Was she a student? She said she was twenty-five which meant she could be.

No matter. If he asked, she’d tell him, but he kept his nose
from her business. Not that he didn’t want to know, but to give her some privacy. If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him. Right?

Damn his head and the mess inside.

I should apologise again
.

But what did he say?

“Amelia…”

She couldn’t hear him. She’d put on a set of headphones, blocking him out.

Serves you right
.

With a sigh, Daniel turned his attentions to the pizzas in the oven. The timer was set, but he’d never cooked a meal is his bloody life, save for toast. Ma wouldn’t let any of them near the oven
for fear they’d burn the house down. Now he wished she’d given him just a cursory lesson. What if he burned the pizzas?

There was the crux of it all. He was nothing but a pathetic waste of space. Amelia was everything good and sweet and beautiful. He had no right touching her, kissing her, even wanting her.
But damn it all, he did.

 

 

Today the skies were overcast but the clouds looked high and fluffy and bright. Daniel
woke with a thick head, a stiff cock, and a sweet sleepy lass in his arms. The previous evening came back to him in short burst. Flashes of memory.

Burning the pizzas.

Aye, he had done. Not too bad. They were still edible.

Too much whisky.

Holding the lass while she cried over her Poppa.

Daniel swiped a hand over his aching brow. Shite…what else had he done?

Amelia moaned, burrowing her face into his chest. Silky-smooth locks brushed under his nose, scented like wild flowers and berries. He inhaled deep, preserving her scent to memory.

“My brain hurts,” she whimpered and hid her face deeper in his chest.

Resisting the urge to laugh took all his strength. His head wasn’t faring much better this morning. “Hard spirits’ll do that to you.”

“The room is spinning…
I feel… Ugh… I…”

Ah shite – she was about to be sick!

Daniel jumped from the bed, searching for something she could be sick in. His foot landed in a big plastic bowl. Perfect.

Just in time, he brought the bowl to Amelia and sat her up, holding her hair back and her face over the bowl in his lap. Her share of the pizza came back up. Her body tightened. She retched again. Groaned.

“Oh God…sorry!” She slumped against his chest, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry, Daniel.”

He kissed the top of her head, ignoring stabs of pain in his head and clenching in his gut.
He wasn’t faring any better than her at the moment. “Don’t you worry, lass. I’ll get rid of this and be right back.”

He’d dealt with his fair share of sick as a lad, helping Ma look after the girls when they were ill. But where to get rid of this? Down the loo? In a caravan? He didn’t know enough about plumbing and wasn’t about to wreck the thing. He hadn’t the money to pay for a new one.

Outside. Aye, he’d dump it outside and let the pouring rain wash it away.

Careful not to get splashed back with it, he dumped the bowl out the door and let it fill with a little rain to rinse, then brought it inside and cleaned it in the sink.
Never know
, he thought.
Might need it again
.

He dried the bowl and filled a glass with water, bringing both back to the small bedroom with him. At what point did they get to bed last night? And how did they end up together? Hadn’t he planned on staying away from her so he wouldn’t attack her again?

“Drink this, Amelia.” He wrapped her hands around the glass, bringing it to her lips.

Slowly at first, sh
e sipped the entire glass down. “I feel awful,” she mumbled, settling into his arms.

Daniel held her in his arms, letting her hair
fan out over his chest. Peace settled in his heart for a moment and he held her closer, like holding onto her was the glue keeping the cracks in his heart together. She turned in his arms, burying her face in his chest, curling her body around his.

Emotions stacked on top of one another
, some vying for attention and others trying to hide. Desire coiled in his gut mixing with a strong dose of fear. What if he fell for her during this trip? His stupid heart would break once she left and he’d be left picking up the pieces of himself all over again.

Amelia sighed. Her fingers inched over his stomach and he chuckled.

“You’re counting them,” he accused.

“Nuh-uh,” she denied.

He laughed; she continued groping his abs and he let her. “How are you feeling?”


Crap. Self-inflicted though. I might feel better after a shower.” She pushed herself up, avoiding his eyes.

“Aye,
” Daniel said, making no move to push her to talk.

He helped her to the small loo
and shut the door behind her. The water turned on. He tried not to but his damned bloody head pictured Amelia sliding out of her jeans and fitted long-sleeved top. Unhooking the clasp on her bra…letting the flimsy scrap of lace covering her pussy fall to the floor.

Daniel shoved a hand through his hair. A thin layer of sweat
covered his brow. They both felt like a pile of shite and here he was picturing the poor lass undressing.

Wait a minute…

How did he know she had flimsy lace panties?

Letting out his breath sharp burst of air, Daniel set to work boiling the kettle. Amelia preferred coffee – that much he knew – and thankfully the caravan came stocked with a small selection of instant coffees and tea bags. They’d bought a small jug of milk from the shop yesterday too. He arranged the breakfast items on a large plate, setting it on the table with the rest of the dishes, and sat down nursing his tea.

Just what the hell happened last night?

Amelia hopped from the loo cleaned and dressed
, fresh-faced and looking so damned beautiful she squeezed at his heart.

He met her halfway and helped her sit. The scent of strawberries from her freshly washed hair was a shot of lust straight to his groin.

“Stormy out there,” she said. Her chin jerked to the window.

“Aye.”

Silence stretched between them, sitting across from each other at the table, watching rain lash at the caravan windows.

“I’m so sorry about last night. You can probably tell I’m not a big drinker.”

“That’s an understatement, lass, but you’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“Sure I do.” A deep blush spread over her cheeks.

He wanted to reach out to her, feel the silky smooth skin; offer her what little comfort he could. For what? Something must have happened last night…something to make her skittish. Embarrassed. Why?

He studied her
for a moment. At the same time he sorted through his head for a memory from the previous night. Anything to help him figure this out so she didn’t have to embarrass herself further. Not a single thing came to mind.

Curiosity overcame him. “And why is that?”

Amelia bit her lip. Her eyes went wide. “You…you don’t remember?”

This felt like a test, and damn if he wasn’t the worst student. Daniel never paid attention in class. And now he’d gone and done it.

…whatever
it
was…

BOOK: Where the Streets have no Name
9.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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