Distinction: The Distraction Trilogy #3 (26 page)

I startle awake when I feel a thud on my body and hear familiar laughter. Drunken laughter, I should add.

“Isaac?” I shove his heavy body from me and wince when he tumbles onto the floor and onto his back with a loud bang.

“Wife!” He practically yells and gives me the largest smile. It’s a drunken, though as always, an attractive smile. “Service me.”

Blink. “You’re fucking kidding me?”

He begins tugging on his belt but can’t quite wrap his fingers around the leather. “You know…?” he stops tugging at his belt and tilts his head like a dog that has heard a noise. “You’re so pretty to look at.”

A laugh escapes me and his smile blinds me. “Come on, you drunkard.” I want to be mad at him but I can’t, not while he’s in this state. It’d be a waste of energy.

Standing, I try to drag him to his feet but only manage to get him onto his arse. He sways and does little to help me as I pull him onto the bed. He rests face first on the blanket, his knees on the floor.

“Fuck sake,” I mutter and slap the side of his head. “Get in bloody bed!”

“Yes, ma’am.” He finally moves and I make quick work of removing his shoes. He even helps me a little as I pull his top over his head, though he falls backwards and hits his head on the headboard of the bed. “Ouch.” Even I felt that one.

“Elle?” John calls and the door opens. “Is everything…”

“Hey, Dad!” Isaac cheers and John blinks sleepily at him.

“He’s drunk,” I say unnecessarily. “Really drunk.”

“Oh dear.”

“I’m not drunk,” Isaac slurs and points a finger at his dad, rolling onto his back and shuffling up the bed until his butt is on it but his feet aren’t. “You… you’re one drunk… the.”

I snort and John remains in the doorway. He looks like this is something he’s seen before. He shakes his head and sighs, asking if I need help. I respond no and nod for him to go back to bed. He does so, rolling his eyes at his son in the process and muttering under his breath about bad genes and something I can’t quite hear.

“Come on.” I tug on Isaac’s arm, trying to get him to sit up so I can manoeuvre him onto the bed properly. He pulls me closer and I’m hovering over him, struggling to keep my weight up.

“I love you.” Isaac’s hand cups my cheek and his thumb rolls over my lower lip. The intensity in his eyes echoes through my soul. “I never stopped loving you.”

My hand goes to his and I hold it against my cheek. At first I was ready to pull it away but now… now I don’t want him to let go.

“Where have you been?” I ask, feeling my eyes water. “We needed you here.”

One second I’m leaning over him, the next I’m down and being crushed against his chest. I like it though, I won’t lie. His heat, his strong body against mine, all of it makes me feel loved, safe, wanted, cherished. It’s just a shame that this is the only time I feel it and the only time I’ve felt it in a really long time.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles drunkenly into my neck as his arms keep me pinned to his body. I hook my leg over both of his and curl into his side. “Sorry for… everything.”

The tears that blurred my vision spill down my cheeks. I inhale a shuddering breath and close my eyes. His arms tighten around me and we stay like this until morning where I wake up sweating and with an awful crick in my neck.

“I need a shower,” I whisper, trying to pull free of his arms. The side of my body that is pressed against him is drenched with sweat and my shoulders are still pinned to his chest.

“Me too,” he mumbles, stirring from sleep. “My head hurts.”

“You drank way too much last night.”

He snorts and rolls me onto my back, his face nuzzling into my neck as his body crushes mine into the mattress. The evidence of his arousal is against my hip and I hate that it makes all of those nerves and muscles clench in my stomach. I feel myself become wet between my thighs. “I’ve been drinking non-stop for three days.”

“Isaac…”

“No.” He presses his lips to my neck. “Don’t say anything. Let’s have showers and then…” Lifting his head, his eyes come to mine. “Then we’ll talk. It’s needed.”

“Agreed.” I shove him off me and stand. He keeps his eyes on me as I move to the closet and pull out a fresh towel and then move to the drawers and pull out a set of clean boxers and a shirt. Both belong to Isaac.

“We could save time and money and shower together.” He suggests and rolls out of the way when I throw a can of deodorant at him. “Maybe not then.”

“Most definitely not.”

His smile flashes from beneath the pillow he just pulled over his head for protection. “You thought about it though.”

I can’t stop thinking about it.

I leave the room without saying another word. His loud laughter follows me out and I’m so distracted and turned on by the sound that I almost walk straight into John.

“Everything okay?” He whispers and I see him take note of the fact I’m fully dressed and heading to the shower. I hate how tired and sad he looks but I suppose it can’t be helped.

I shrug and look back to the door. “He seems… normal.”

“Normal?”

“Somehow I don’t think any of this has sunk in for him.” I say quietly and brush past him and step into the bathroom. The sooner I shower and get ready, the sooner Isaac and I can resolve things and get on with funeral preparations. I feel like until Judith is laid to rest, I can’t rest and I know that John and Isaac can’t rest either.

Isaac takes his time in the shower. He also avoided my eyes as we swapped rooms. After tying up my wet hair and neatening his bed, I pad downstairs and search the near empty cupboards for a source of food.

“We need to go shopping,” I tell Isaac when he enters the room wearing nothing but loose fitting joggers and… well… just loose fitting joggers.

“Dad’s already gone.”

“He has? I thought he was in his room?” I glance at the stairs as if it will reveal all the answers.

“He left five minutes ago. I think he needed the fresh air.” He clears his throat and my eyes snap up from the droplets of water that are trickling over his defined abs, down to the V that seems so much more noticeable than it used to be. “My eyes are here.”

“What?” I don’t realise my eyes have zoned into that region again until his hands grip the top of his joggers and begin to slowly pull them down.

Now I look away.

He laughs and steps towards me. “Just say the word, Elle, and I’m yours.”

My mouth dries and my lips part. “Huh?”

Raising his hand, he brings it to my cheek much like he did the night before. “I’m sorry about what I said the other day. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.”

“I’m a bastard.”

Smirk. “I know.”

He brings his free hand down on my arse and I yelp at the sting from where it connects, but then he rubs the same place and grabs it, bringing my body to his as his hand on my face slides into my hair. I don’t move; I can’t move. I feel him thickening between us and the memory of us joining together so long ago, yet so fresh in my mind, makes me dizzy with lust.

I have no power over myself right now.

“I won’t do it again,” he whispers softly and I believe him. “You have my word. I won’t ever, ever be that fucking mean to you again.”

I want to cry. I want to wrap my arms around his neck.

“I just… I panicked.”

My fingers splay out on his chest as I feel his rapid heart beating. The light dusting of hair tickles the side of my hand. He shudders and presses his lips to my forehead.

“You’re the only person besides my parents that I’ve ever loved.” His voice is quiet, calm, soft. “I’m not losing you too, Elle. I fucking refuse.” Dark, blue pools of determination twinkle at me from beneath hooded lids. I wet my lips, ready to speak, but he doesn’t give me the chance. I feel his lips on mine and for the first time since seeing him again, I can’t grasp at any reason to push him away.

I need his comfort just as much as he needs mine.

When he realises I’m not going to slap him, he pulls me tighter still and deepens the kiss that sends prickles of pleasure through my blood and over my skin. And then his tongue teases the seam of my lips. It’s all or nothing.

I meet it with my own and let that fire in my core take charge. My hands wrap around his neck and pull him tight.

He moans deep in his throat and grinds his cock against me as I hitch my leg up his side and tangle my fingers in his hair.

Hooking my hitched leg over his elbow, he lifts me until my arse is resting on the edge of the counter.

Our kiss is hungry, angry, unforgiving. We kiss as though we’ve been starved of it and need it to survive. Our lips, teeth, tongues all clash and I can feel his throbbing length against my core. Nothing but the boxers I wear and his joggers separate us.

I want to feel him inside me but the fabric stops the tip from doing more than rubbing against my entrance and my sensitive clit. It feels so fucking good I might orgasm just by doing this.

“God,” I moan as his lips move from my mouth to my neck, sending a wave of euphoric tingles through every inch of me. I’m so sensitive I want to pull away, yet I want more. “Isaac.”

“I’ve missed this.” He grinds against me again and lets out a loud moan of his own. “Nearly five years.”

“Huh?” I pant.

“It’s been nearly five years. Tell me I can have you.”

“You can have me,” I whisper.

In a second I’m on my feet again, facing away from him. Confused, dazed and definitely horny, I glance at him questioningly over my shoulder, but then I feel the boxers I’m wearing tug over the curves of my arse before pooling at my ankles.

“I want to taste you, but I don’t have time.” He moans as his finger slips into my folds and tests the moisture.

“Let me hold you.” I try to turn back to face him.

“Babe, it’s been five years. This is going to be so fucking quick. If I look at you, it’s going to be even quicker.”

I bite my lip.

He grins and kisses the shell of my ear.

Then he’s there, poised and ready at my entrance. I have to stand on my tiptoes and grab hold of the bottom shelf of the top cupboard to pull myself high enough for him to enter comfortably.

“Fuck.” I feel his hands trembling as he rubs his cock around my entrance. I want to tell him to just fuck me already but I have a feeling that will send him over quicker than the deed itself. Strong fingers part my lower lips and spread my wetness around my clit. He circles quickly and rubs in all the right places until I’m a panting mess, hanging from the cupboard by an inch.

“Please,” I beg, pushing my hips back.

He acquiesces and slams home, stretching me too quickly for me to adjust. It burns and hurts but in the most delicious way. The tingling that he created with his fingers spreads outwards and down my legs to the tips of my toes.

“Heaven,” he murmurs and his forehead hits the back of my neck. His body starts shaking the second he starts thrusting. His control is slipping; I can tell by the way his hands are roughly assaulting my body in the best way. The cry of pleasure he releases is what tips me over.

That burn reaches and stretches, my blood is gasoline to its flame. I’m a goner. My eyes go black. My hearing is no more.

I’ve never been loud in sex, never, but I can’t help myself. The moans that I release sound almost feral. Isaac’s too as he joins me, thrusting into me almost violently, slamming into the hilt as he spills his seed inside.

Fortunately his strong arms catch my aching body before I tumble.

“Holy crap,” he pants against my neck before turning me in his arms and kissing me softly, sweetly. “Next time won’t be so… fast.”

“Hmm,” I mumble, drowsy and sated.

We both hear the front door close and our eyes widen in horror. I’m suddenly very alert as Isaac tugs the boxers back up my legs and pushes me towards the sink. He flops into a chair next to the round table and lifts up the newspaper… upside down.

John steps into the kitchen, rattling bags in his hands. He places them on the side and looks at me. His brow quirks. He looks at Isaac and blinks.

He knows. I don’t know how he knows, but he knows. The sudden flush to his cheekbones is the biggest giveaway.

“I thought I’d make eggs,” he mutters.

Isaac stands. “I’ll help you.”

“I’ll go and…” I point to the door with my thumb and flee the area.

There’s a mess between my legs that needs dealing with.

But it isn’t a mess that I regret. It’s just a mess that isn’t very comfortable.

I want to race after her and take her in my bed, in the hall, in the living room, everywhere. I want to have her everywhere. I’m not done. I need more.

“Dad…” I clear my throat and wash my hands after him.

“Son.” He keeps his eyes on the task at hand.

We fall silent. It’s awkward.

“I’ll do this,” I tell him. “Why don’t you go and sit down.”

My dad ponders this suggestion for a moment before shaking his head. “No. I need to be busy.”

“Got it.”

“Are you okay?” He asks.

I want to tell him that I am, because I am. I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel much other than elation for finally getting my Elle back. If she thinks for one moment that I’m going to let her go after that then she has another thing coming.

She wants me still; she just had me. It doesn’t get more perfect, more raw, than that did.

“I’m not sure how I am,” I respond, because I’m a heartless fuck who would rather be having sex than thinking about the fact my mother just died.

Why don’t I feel anything? I take a bottle of water from the fridge and have a sip. I play with the lid so I don’t have to meet his solemn gaze and suffer him seeing the truth of how little I feel through my eyes.

“How are you?” I ask carefully. He only shrugs in response.

“I got to say goodbye,” he tells me quietly and grips the side of the counter, the same side that Elle and I just…

The front door closing shatters my daydream. My dad and I both look to the source, then panic sinks in.

“Elle?” I yell and race to the front door. She can’t leave. If she leaves, she won’t come back to me. I can’t let her leave.

But then I pull open the front door and see Silas walking away from my red haired beauty. He drops something white on the ground but I’m too perplexed at what Elle is doing to pay any mind to it.

“Don’t do this,” she begs him, gripping his wrist as he walks back towards his car. “Please. Let’s talk.”

Wait… she’s begging him?

“Get the fuck off me,” he yells and she does so, staggering back a step.

“I can’t do this without you,” she tells him and my heart shatters. My hand on the door squeezes it so tightly the wood almost cracks under my grip. “Please. Not now, not after Judith. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Why don’t you go cry to your boyfriend, Elle?” He points at me and Elle looks over, her eyes shining with tears. It breaks me.

“You’re an arsehole,” she yells at him. “A pathetic excuse of a man.”

Silas flips her off and it’s not until the bottle of water leaves my hand that I realise what’s she’s doing. The bottle soars through the air after she throws it with that robotic arm of hers. Silas ducks at the last second, right before it cracks him in the head, and we all watch it slide across the ground.

“That’s clever, Elle. Add assault to your list,” he bellows, before he walks around his car and pulls open the driver’s side door. He stares at me, spits on the ground before climbing in and drives away, leaving Elle shivering on the driveway.

“Elle,” I call softly and hold out my hand to her. She wants him but I care about her too much to just leave her sobbing in the cold. “Come inside.”

Her shoulders shake as she stares after Silas’ car. My love for her overrules my jealousy and anger. My love for her outweighs the hurt I feel.

I wish I could go back in time and change things, be a better man and have this reaction instead of how I used to behave when challenged.

I step outside, the cold ground stabbing at my feet. She tucks herself into my side willingly and buries her face in her hands.

“I just… I can’t take this right now. I know there are bigger things to worry about, but I just can’t have somebody else owning such a large portion of the inn. I just can’t.”

Wait… “What?” I pull her inside and she comes willingly.

“I mean who the fuck does that?” Her words are loud and her hand wipes the tears from her face almost aggressively. “Who the fuck backs out of an amazing opportunity because of a breakup?”

“I’m not… I’m not following.” I say and her eyes go round with realisation.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“No. Can’t say I do.”

“Silas and I bought the inn together. Without his contribution I wouldn’t have had the inn up and running in time. No point buying an inn if you can’t live in it or do it up.”

Makes sense. “So what was all that about outside?”

“I broke up with him and he’s pulling out because he thinks I broke up with him for you.” She sneers. It’s actually cute.

“Did you?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point.” Her hands fly to her mouth, probably from surprise at her own answer. I’m not so sure that she meant to say it, but fuck if it didn’t feel good to hear it.

My lips are pressed to hers before she can protest. Her back hits the door.

I wish we were alone right now. I wish I could send my dad elsewhere for an hour.

“Isaac,” she gasps between kisses and clasps her hand over my mouth. “I’m having a meltdown here.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Rolling her eyes, she shoves me away and moves to the desk where her bag and keys are.

“You’re leaving?” I keep my voice even, though inside I’m panicking.

“I have to go and deal with this mess. I need to get changed out of your clothes and call my solicitor. The inn opens in a week and I’m not equipped to handle the business side of things. That was Silas’ job!”

She’s stressed; I can see that. I don’t know what to do. “I’ll come with you.”

“Isaac…” She slips her shoes onto her feet as her hand presses against my chest, holding me back. “This isn’t some fairytale. I’m not eighteen anymore. You can’t just show up, whisk me away and marry me. I want…” She sighs a long, deep sigh. “I deserve more than that and I don’t want to do this now. Not with everything looming over us like it is. I’m not in the right frame of mind to be making any decisions with regard to my life.”

“We’ll figure it out.” This is it… I can feel it.

“We won’t.” Her voice is soft, too soft. It’s almost sad, resolute. She believes what she’s saying. “We won’t because I don’t trust you.” Fuck, that stings. “And you still don’t trust me.”

“But… the kitchen…” Didn’t that mean anything to her?

“It was amazing, but we can’t do this now.”

“Don’t walk away.” I beg, feeling my heart crack. “I need you.”

“You’re using me as a distraction,” she snaps and her words sink straight in and shatter my soul. “You need to grieve. I need to grieve. And then we’ll talk.”

“Is this just about my mum?” I ask bitterly and run my fingers through my hair. “Or is this about him?”

“We were over for a long time. Me and you. You can’t feel that way. You don’t have the right.”

“I don’t?”

“You’re getting irritable. Let’s stop.”

“Did you love him? Be honest. Do you still?”

I see her contemplate telling me the truth. I know that’s what she’s doing. “Yes, yes and yes. But we’re over.”

“So you used me in the kitchen? Knowing we wouldn’t be...”

“We both wanted it.” She bends down to tie her laces. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Elle…” I don’t know what to say to make her stay. I don’t know what to do. “Please.”

She stands and looks at me with swollen red eyes. Even after crying, she still looks beautiful. “I’ll call you.” I feel her lips against mine as a painful wave of flutters attacks my stomach. For a moment I tricked myself into believing that everything would be okay, that I’d have Elle back to help me through this.

Help me through what, though? I don’t feel anything. I feel fine, just angry. My temper is rising because she’s being so stubborn.

“When? When will you fucking call me exactly?” I shouldn’t be mad because she’s right. We don’t trust each other. We did everything wrong the last time. But I need her now. I need her with me now. Not tomorrow, not next week. Now.

“Later,” she promises and rests her head against my chin. “Thank you for…”

“For what?” I prompt when she doesn’t continue. “For giving you the best orgasm you’ve had in years? Is that what you were trying to say? Is that all that meant to you?”

“I don’t know what I meant!”

“My mum just died, Elle. I need you here, with me.”

“Stop,” she pleads and pulls the door open, her keys rattling in her hand. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I know that you won’t come back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I know you. You’ll leave and convince yourself that I’m a bastard.”

She laughs cruelly. “Aren’t you?” And then she walks away and I let her, too stunned and hurt to try anymore.

I slam the door closed, angry at myself, angry at her, angry at the cold air coming into the house… Angry. Just fucking angry.

“She’ll come back,” my dad says, probably having listened to the entire conversation. A bottle of bleach is slapped into my hands along with a roll of new cleaning cloths. “I don’t want to know… just get my kitchen sterile. Now.”

Yeah… he heard.