Distraction: The Distraction Trilogy #1 (22 page)

Isaac

“NO!” My mum yells the second I walk through the door. “I don’t… I don’t remember how to do this!”

“Judith,” I hear Eloise plead and the sound of something smashing on the floor instantly makes me race into the kitchen.

My mum stands by the stove, her hair in a mess with tomato juice all down her front. Eloise stands by the fridge, tomato juice splattered all over her face and torso. My dad looks helpless as he tries to apprehend my mother, who is shrieking and crying and grabbing everything within reach.

“Mum,” I yell, as she grabs another plate and throws it. It barely misses Elle’s shoulder as I grab the girl and shield her with my body. “Stop it. Dad! Grab her!”

My dad wraps his arms around the distraught woman and slides to the ground, with her writhing and screaming like a mad woman. I feel fingers grip the front of my T-shirt and look down at a trembling Elle, who’s tucked into my side.

“I know how to make cookies,” my mother sobs, finally calming. “I know how to make cookies. I’m not stupid.”

“Nobody is saying you’re stupid, Love,” my dad whispers, smoothing her hair down with his hand. “Nobody is saying that.”

“What the hell happened?” I ask, my arm around Elle’s shoulders.

My dad nods to Elle. “We’ll talk later. Take her home.” He looks at Elle with concern. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Elle shakes her head and manages to croak out the word ‘fine’.

I don’t want to leave. I should stay here with them, but my dad insists.

“Come on,” I say to the shaking female in my arms. “Let’s get you home.”

“Okay.” She lets me lead her from the house and to my car. I help her get strapped in before climbing into the driver’s seat and gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands. “She just wanted to make cookies.”

I look at her, my nerves shot and my body exhausted from the stress. “What happened?”

“I told her she couldn’t make cookies with pasta sauce. I tried reminding her how to do it, but… she… well you saw.”

“I didn’t think this would start yet. I thought we had more time.” I blow out a breath and rest my head against the steering wheel. I’m consumed with grief and for some reason I’m not afraid to show it around this woman. “It’s getting worse.”

Eloise’s hand hovers over my shoulder for a few seconds. I don’t move. When it finally lands on my shoulder, I hold my breath. It’s a small comfort, but it’s nice to know that I’m not going through this alone, no matter how selfish that might seem.

“We should go. I should get you home. You look… well…” I sit up reluctantly, hating when her hand falls to the console and her eyes take in the mess of her top.

“Can we… drive?” I’m shocked by her words and how hesitantly she says them. “It’s just… I can’t go home right now. Not like this.”

“You smell like spaghetti,” I comment before I can stop myself and her hand slaps at my arm. “Come on, I’ll take you to mine. You can get cleaned up while I come back and deal with my mum and dad. Just…” What am I doing? “Don’t answer the door or the phone.”

“Got it.” She grins, snatching the keys to my flat from my hand. “Thanks, Isaac.”

“Why can’t you go home?” I start to drive, being mindful of the icy roads.

She shrugs and turns to look out of the window. “My parents kicked me out for the night. I’m supposed to be staying at Hayley’s, but she’s at her little sister’s play until six.”

I laugh for a second before she shoots me with a look that could kill if it were possible. “Okay, well, don’t snoop or anything. I’m not the tidiest man in the world.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

When we pull up outside of my building and she heads inside, I start to wonder if I just made a huge mistake.

Eloise

He wasn’t wrong. He’s definitely not the cleanest guy. I’ve never seen so many empty takeout cartons and boxes in one room. This place is… well it’s a bit of a dump. How the fuck does he live like this?

He said don’t snoop, but he didn’t say don’t clean. Although, under the pile of clothes littered across the living room and hall and dirty towels… maybe there are some things hidden that he doesn’t want me to see.

Seriously though, I can’t shower here when it’s like this. It’s just unthinkable.

I start by digging out a roll of bin liners from the cupboard under the sink, not shocked to see they’ve been unopened. I’m not sure he’s ever used a bin in this place.

Once the rubbish is disposed of, I clean the kitchen, grateful that there aren’t many dishes to clean as it means I can spend more time cleaning the empty cupboards.

Once that’s done and the floor is mopped, I grab the laundry basket and fill it, disgusted when I find even more discarded clothing in his bedroom. He’s so lucky the washing machine is a nine kilogram. I can fit most of it in one wash.

His pockets are full of wrappers and used scratch cards. A pair of his jeans even holds an open but unused condom, still in its wrapper. That is so gross.

By the time I’m done two hours have passed and I’m wondering if I have time to shower.

“Dear God,” I say, almost hurling in disgust at the sight of the shower and the toilet. “How the hell does he get clean in here?”

I ruin my clothes with bleach and I don’t even care. I go through two bottles of the stuff and get severe cramp in my arms from the scrubbing, but I still don’t care. By the time I’m done, the bathroom is sparkling and the laundry is done.

I switch the washing into the dryer and place another load into the washer.

He said don’t snoop, but I’m sure he won’t mind me looking for a clean towel.

Unfortunately I don’t find one. I do find a hairdryer, though, and a clean T-shirt in his closet. I’ll have to make do.

I have to admit that the showers my dad installed in all of his homes are bloody brilliant. They’re so powerful, it feels like I’m stood under a waterfall. Why hasn’t he installed one of these in my bathroom?

I’m definitely bringing that unfairness up to him when I’m allowed back into my home.

Isaac

Using the spare key, I let myself into my apartment and the first thing I smell is bleach, lots of it.

“What the hell?” I’ve been gone five hours. I check my watch to double check that fact. Yep, it has only been five hours and I don’t even recognise my apartment.

Where’s the mess? Where are my clothes?

I hear the washing machine and the dryer humming. Well that explains the latter.

“Elle?” I call into the darkness as my hand flicks on the light.

The room illuminates, showing a freshly vacuumed carpet and dust free units. Maybe she left already.

“Elle?”

I push open the door to the bathroom and smell bleach mixed with the scent of my shower gel. She cleaned my toilet.

She actually cleaned my toilet.

How the hell did she do all of this in less than a decade?

“Elle?” I call, louder this time as I drop my bag on the ground and make my way to the bedroom. A sudden thought crosses my mind; what if she’s not dressed? She could have fallen asleep.

It doesn’t stop me from slowly pushing open the door until the light from the room spills over the bed.

My mouth goes dry and my brain implodes. I inhale a shallow breath and grip the doorframe for support.

She’s not sleeping. She’s lying on her stomach with her legs bent and her ankles crossed in the air above her knees. Her legs are naked. They look so smooth.

I recognise the T-shirt she’s wearing. It’s my lucky shirt and normally I’d be pissed that someone is wearing it, but I realise that it has only served me another dish of luck. I gaze upon her form, the way the shirt skims just below her curvaceous arse, showing the entirety of her shapely, bare thighs. Her hair is slightly damp and rests over one shoulder. She has my IPad in her hands and headphones over her ears. I hear the faint sound of music travelling from them and realise that’s how she hasn’t heard me. She’s far too enthralled with whatever she’s doing to have noticed me come in.

I imagine myself sitting beside her, kissing her ankle while my hand strokes up her thigh and back down again. I imagine her turning over and smiling as I lift the large top up and over her breasts, revealing her smooth figure hiding beneath.

I gulp, trying to get my mouth to produce an ounce of moisture, but I fail and instead my throat makes a strange noise.

Unfortunately at the same time I make the choked groan, the music in her ears goes silent and her head whips around to stare at me.

Neither of us move for the longest moment. I stare, my eyes lingering on her face and then on the curves that are accented by the way the top rests.

I’m not sure what happens. I’m not sure how it happens. All I know is that my legs are moving and my hands are ripping the headphones from her head. She gasps, fear and arousal swimming in her perfect fucking eyes as I toss the IPad to the side and wrap an arm around her body.

My mouth connects with hers as I pull her into a kneeling position, my arm tight under hers and around her back. She whimpers through her parted lips, her hands resting on my shoulders. I lick her lower lip, praying she gives me permission to taste her delicious looking mouth.

She does and the feeling it sends through me is almost painful. Fire courses through my veins, melting and tightening every part of me. It makes no sense. It feels unreal. I feel high. I feel like I’m on the strongest drug if drugs were to make you feel this way.

Everything melts away, reality, time, space, rules. Everything is gone in one simple thing.

She meets my tongue with her own, moaning sexily as I scrape my fingers down her sides, finally getting the chance to feel her shape, her heat.

We kiss for what seems like forever, but forever doesn’t seem long enough. I don’t want to stop. I don’t want this feeling to stop.

I pull her closer with one arm, keeping our mouths connected as I loosen my tie with my free hand and toss it over my shoulder. Her hands finally begin to explore, starting at my hair and neck, before sliding down and working at the buttons of my shirt. I feel her trembling. I can taste her nerves and her need in her kiss, which is strong but soft and so fucking perfect.

She finally relieves me of my shirt, her delicate fingers pushing it from my shoulders and down my arms with a little help from myself. I tear my lips from her mouth and greedily suckle at her neck, nipping and no doubt marking her perfect flesh as I go. Her head falls back and a shuddering gasp leaves her parted lips.

I grasp her breast through her shirt, loving how perfectly it fits in my hand with just a little left over. She’s perfect. She feels perfect. She feels breakable and so delicate and pure.

I take my time teasing her neck and collarbone, wanting nothing more than to rip my lucky shirt open.

Her fingers run through the light hair on my chest, following every ridge and dip along my abdomen and sides.

It’s my own hand that loosens my belt and pulls it free. It’s my own hand that tugs at the button of my trousers and pushes them down. It’s my own hand that pushes her back onto the bed and it’s my own hand that lifts the shirt up her body, revealing the one thing I’ve secretly and unknowingly desired for so long.

“Isaac,” she whimpers and her hands go to cover her breasts.

I shake my head, unable to talk. I’ve never felt so feral, so untamed.

I grab her wrists and pin them above her head, giving myself a second to admire her beauty, before finally pressing my bare chest to hers and pressing my tongue back into her mouth.

My hand pulls the drawer open beside the bed and searches for a foil packet. When I finally snag one, I sit back and rid myself of my boxers in a quick and well-practised move.

She leans up on her elbows, her eyes wide when she takes me in, her chest heaving as badly as mine. I slow down my movements after donning the condom. My hands trace her skin, her breasts, her stomach and thighs.

I want to taste every inch of her, but my desire to feel her at this point is too strong.

“Elle,” I say softly and her eyes come to mine as my hands part her thighs. I watch her cringe as I look upon her glistening folds. Her warm scent sends me crazy. I can’t control myself, but I need to. “Tell me to stop.”

She leans up, her arm hooking around my neck and the side of her nose sliding along mine. She pulls me down until I’m hovering over her, our breaths mingling and our hearts beating so loudly you can hear them. “Don’t stop.”

I almost lose it.

I push into her sharply and smother her cry with my mouth. Her back arches and her legs tense against my hips, but I don’t stop. Just like she said, I do not stop.

She feels so good, so tight, like a fucking glove made just for me. Her heat is unreal and her moisture just… perfect.

I groan and push deeper before slowly sliding out. She relaxes with a quiet whimper and falls back onto the bed. Her hands seek the sheets as I move my hips, plunging into her over and over again. It’s better than imagined. It’s more than I dreamed. My imagination was never this good and I have a good fucking imagination.