Hate to Love You (7 page)

James had branded me his, but in the process he had also made himself mine.

Our bodies soaked the sheets, obliterating all traces of Caroline’s perfume with the musky scent we made together. When I opened my eyes I saw the energy we made too, a shimmering aura of green sinking into blue before the two colours mingled and were absorbed back into our skin.

Gone, as if it had never been.

I’d never seen anything so beautiful. Or so heartbreaking. I wanted to cry but I held on with an effort. With the slowing of my heart rate came the determination to save the sadness for later, when it could join self-recrimination, guilt and “why the fuck did I do that?”

James shifted onto his back and pulled me into his arms. All I could feel at that moment was elation. Languor. He told me that I was the best he’d ever had, that my body was much more than he’d ever imagined. He loved me and would love me forever.

Love Caroline
, my mind threw at me.

I pushed away the thought and swirled my initials on James’s chest, my fingers as sensuous as the kisses he gave me. I would wait until he was asleep before I crept back to my room. There would be hell to pay when my deceit was discovered, and I wanted to savour this moment so I could cleave to it when my blackout dream became daylight reality. I cuddled into James, listening to his breath deepen.

Not bad for a glass of water
was my last thought before I too drifted into sleep.

Chapter Four

Blood is Just as Thin as Venom

I nuzzled into the warm tree that wrapped itself around my back. A long branch brushed its silken leaves over my arms, my waist and my thighs. They whispered their caress on my skin, infusing my body with little ripples of pleasure. My toes wiggled and the roots answered, tickling me as I bucked into the pleasant hardness at my bottom. I sighed as a thick root made its way to my—

Hey!
Trees don’t do that
,
do they?

I woke up to hot lips on my neck, a teasing hand on my breast and the insistent prod of hard, solid male pushing into me from behind. I pushed back instinctively, opening my thighs to ease his entry. We both sighed as the short jabs grew longer and deeper until he was fully sheathed inside me. My body was primed, slick from his caresses. Eager to climb straight back to the top of the cliff and get flung over the edge without even stopping to take a breath. It was the best wakeup call I’d ever had, impossible to ignore.

“So sweet,” James said, his voice husky.

My eyes popped open.
Shit!
What time was it? My heart thumped erratically and James covered it with his hand. I tilted my head back, not really knowing what I was going to say or do. He chose that moment to seal my lips with his. It didn’t help my heart rate any but it made my worries fade and my desire flourish.

“Shh... Your parents aren’t back yet.” He punctuated his words with another thrust. “Enjoy.”

Well
,
all righty then
. In truth I was so far gone I wouldn’t have been able to stop anyway. Our rhythm was fast, frantic even. As if we needed to reaffirm the intimate hold we had over each other. I was wrapped up in James, enthralled by his urgent need to relabel my most secret, private parts with the calligraphy of his passion.

There was nothing slow or gentle about how
I
reacted either, reaching my hand back to grab his buttocks and grind him into me. Beyond taking it slow and savouring the moment, I held him exactly where I wanted him. My pleasure hit its peak and I hurtled off the cliff, my breathless gasps joined by James’s.

Holy crap, I’d gone from not-so-inexperienced virgin to wanton woman in the space of one night. I wondered if that was normal and made a note to ask Marcia. Clutching James’s arm around my waist I settled back into him, spooned and protected. After a few minutes, the guilt and worry I had pushed away came rushing back to me.

What the hell should I do now?

For starters I had to get out of Caroline’s bed. Unfortunately, James didn’t seem sleepy. He wasn’t about to let me get up and walk away without a word. And for that matter, why the hell had I thought sneaking off would solve anything? Bloody booze. That’s the problem with vodka-fuelled choices for you; those stupid decisions always come back to bite you in the arse.

I considered taking a page out of Alex Novak’s book. Saying “thanks for the cock” and brazening it out. I discarded the idea immediately. I might have been able to brazen away that kiss earlier but sex was another matter entirely. I felt joined to James in a way that was new—and fucking scary to be honest. I turned onto my back, my hand on his muscular thigh as we lay there. Five, ten, fifteen minutes to hold him before I let go.

I had to tell him who I was.

That is, as soon as the hand on my nipple and the breath on my neck stopped sending the opposite message to my brain. Then I’d turn over, face him in the dark and...kiss him like my body was urging me to. I didn’t want to tell James anything anymore. His lips were still a drug I couldn’t relinquish, his cock the euphoria I craved.

I was sinking into sensation, losing myself all over again but I broke away with an effort, sitting up and clearing my throat nervously. In spite of my sudden bravery I baulked, gearing myself up for The Big Reveal.

He stroked my back. “What is it?”

“James,” I said hoarsely. “I need to—”

Virility, thy name is James. I guess after such a long time in the desert he needed his water. He pulled me down onto his chest and my legs automatically straddled his hips.

“Tell me what you need,” he said, lifting me up just enough to slip a fraction inside me.

Well, I needed all of him inside me and the sooner the better. A strangled sound came out of my throat, a mixture of frustration, hopelessness and pleasure.

“Are you sore?” he asked, sounding concerned.

I had to pause and think about it. My pussy was throbbing and I probably would feel sore after the night was over, but my overwhelming need was to feel every inch of him.

I tugged on his ear lobe with my teeth. “It’ll hurt more if I can’t fuck you.”

“Oh, God.”

His hips surged upward and I forgot about my soreness. Much to his delight my awkwardness had faded. I glided on top of him, increasing my pace according to how his breath quickened, slowing down to torture him until he grabbed my hips to grind me into him faster. Making him sigh, making him moan, making him cry out became my goal as I tried to control my own desire.

We were still at it when my parents returned. The front door shut with a bang and we heard the jangle of keys before heavy steps announced their approach. We froze to listen. I’d been so close to another orgasm I wanted to strangle them. They paused in front of our door and mumbled. All they had to do was twist the knob and I’d be discovered. The thought terrified me.

Much to my surprise, it also excited me.

James swore softly and carefully lifted me off him. Disappointment washed over me but I couldn’t blame him; I had other things to think about. My brain scrambled into overdrive, looking for a way to hide myself in case the door opened. If I lay on my side and arranged my hair over my face maybe they’d think I was Caroline. I started to turn over but James had other ideas. He poured his sleek, powerful body over mine and stretched my hands above my head, lacing them together with his hand.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

He pushed into me with excruciating slowness, an inch-by-inch progression that became a kind of torture in itself. I trembled with the effort to keep my sighs and moans contained as he whispered into my ear, goading me to let go. He thrust and I clenched; he withdrew and I whimpered, desperate to feel him. I was powerless to do anything but lace my legs around his to pull him closer. James stayed in control, his deliberate thrusts driving me insane.

We were so turned on by the prospect of discovery we couldn’t stop. The tension was a piercing kind of pleasure, adding an extra layer of excitement to our enjoyment. When I hit the point of no return, he rocked into my orgasm, covering my mouth with his and breathing in my cries. He wasn’t able to silence the low growl he released when his own pleasure ripped through him. His teeth grazed my neck with every convulsive thrust of his hips.

We didn’t even notice that my parents had gone until our breathing evened out. Hell, they could have been bashing us with a Bible for all the attention we ended up giving it. I should have been pissing myself, quaking in fear at discovery. After all, if they opened the door James would find out that
I
was his lover. He would condemn me for a deceitful slut and my parents would burn me at the stake. Caroline would rant and wail, and make sure I bled for sleeping with James. But I didn’t care.

James was bad for my sense of self-preservation.

The bed creaked loudly, making him chuckle in the dark. I lay with my head on his chest and my hand on the part of him I couldn’t bear to let go of, even now. Soft words in Italian, low and intense, floated in the darkness as he ran his hands through my sweat-soaked hair. I couldn’t understand but it was beautiful, evocative of things I could only ever dream of having.

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew James was whispering his goodbyes in my ear, telling me it was just past five. A sliver of yellowish light from the corridor penetrated the darkness and I knew a moment of panic. I needn’t have worried because James was running late. He had to catch his flight to Sydney and would Skype me once he was settled at his hotel. He kissed me on the lips before sucking on a nipple and grasping my bottom for good measure, growling in my ear he’d have a hard-on until he saw me again.

“That was the best night of my life,” he said. “I can’t wait until the wedding.”

I stared into the darkness, listening to the low purr of the Lamborghini as he drove away from the house. Unable to stay in bed, I rolled up the blackout blinds and looked out at the dawn. It was different shades of grey, as usual, bathing the street in opaque haziness. The new family in 110 had seven kids between them and their bin had overflowed again, strewing smelly nappies and empty pizza boxes all over the pavement. The old Pakistani guy next door was in his pyjamas, praying towards the wall like he did every morning. I sighed and leaned against the window frame.

Nothing had changed.

Shit, who was I kidding?
I
had changed. I was marked, changed by shallow probes and deep, penetrating thrusts.

A woman
.

So what if the rubbish stank up the street? I hugged myself, smiling at the slight soreness in my breasts. I had felt James’s heart beat in the palm of my hand; felt it pulse inside my body. His scent permeated me to the exclusion of anything else and now I felt—

Oh God, this had to stop. I slapped a hand to my forehead. I wasn’t going to get deep and meaningful just because I’d had sex, was I? And come to think of it I refused to feel guilty for not telling James who I was. There I was, minding my own business, innocently asleep. Well, naked and innocently asleep in Caroline’s bed, but that didn’t make a difference, did it? James should have known I wasn’t her. I would know him anywhere, in blackout darkness or blinding sunshine.

But would Caroline? Did her body respond or her mind connect to his the way mine did? She said she loved him and yet she’d allowed him to leave the country without even saying goodbye. What kind of love was that?

The callous and bitchy kind
, my mind sneered.

It would serve her right if James called the wedding off. I pictured Caroline’s tearful face when she discovered that her posh fiancé had spent the night with her vulgar little sister. I wanted to enjoy the image but my mouth refused to curve into a smile. Little darts of guilt punctured my conscience despite my efforts to ignore them. James’s loving words during the night were like shots of venom, overpowering my resistance to the truth.

He had been in bed with Caroline, not me. Sure, he’d fantasised about me, but he had believed that I was her.

Why the hell did that bother me so much? It wasn’t like I wanted him to declare his undying love for me, was it? I shook my head vehemently. No fucking way. James was still an arrogant prick and I was still screwed-up, pregnant Paisley.

But I wasn’t a virgin anymore!

While my parents slept down the hallway, my forbidden passage had been rampantly plundered, thoroughly looted and despoiled. A high giggle burst from my throat. It quickly turned into a laugh that escalated beyond my control. There was nothing funny about my situation, I know, but I couldn’t help it. The madwoman had escaped from the attic and she had to have her run of the crazies. I flung myself on Caroline’s bed and tried to muffle my hysteria, laughing uncontrollably and hiccupping into a pillow that smelled of James.

When the laughter was spent I lay on my back, exhausted. I was an emotional basket case. The “dislike James” box still got a big tick, but nevertheless I felt closer to him than to anybody else on the planet.

And now I knew what I’d wanted from the moment I’d first seen him.

Friendship.

Intimacy.

Passion.

I would never have these things with James.

An overwhelming sense of loss coloured the sky a dark shade of bleak. Should I chalk the weepies down to the post-op blues? After all, the tearing of my hymen had been like having surgery. Or maybe my tears were caused by post-orgasmic depression. You get depression post everything else, so why not orgasms?

My nostrils filled with the smell of sex. I’d always wondered what that meant and now I knew. It was James and it was me, fused and extracted into the sweet pungency of sweat and cum.

Suddenly, the knowledge of what we’d done made me feel more confident than I had in a long time, as if I could do anything I set my mind to. Hell, if this was how fantastic sex made you feel then it was no wonder people were at it all the time. Putting up with a bout of post-climax depression was a small enough price to pay. Besides, my volatile moodiness probably had nothing to do with James. Last night had been my first time and that was bound to cause a few tears no matter what. I waited for the painful jab of self-deceit but nothing happened.

It was time to get up, forget about my sister’s fiancé and get on with my life. I had more important things to worry about than James. Quietly and quickly, I stripped and replaced Caroline’s sheets, hoping my parents wouldn’t wake up until I’d crammed everything into the washing machine.

As I tidied and freshened up the room with Caroline’s floral perfume my heart fluttered, punctuating my erratic thoughts with physical exclamation marks. When I was done I looked around, satisfied at my handiwork. I took a deep breath and shut the bedroom away, smelling of roses.

* * *

“You did
what?
”

Marcia’s screech would have made an opera diva proud. The afternoon was chilly with the freshness of mid-March but we were strolling down Brighton’s bustling waterfront in shorts and T-shirts, eating vanilla ice cream with chocolate flakes. Amusement arcades and tacky souvenir shops shared the channel view with the grandeur of a faded Victorian masterpiece, the Brighton Hotel. Their strident, overly cheerful music wasn’t enough to muffle Marcia’s shock. She stuck her hands over her little brother’s ears but he squirmed free.

I leaned in close to whisper. “I had sex with James.”

Marcia shooed Kai away and he headed for a giant trampoline in the distance. It’s hard to shock Marcia into silence for long so I took advantage and gave her the short version. When I was finished she put her hand on my forehead and looked at me like she was going to have me sectioned.