Spiralling Skywards: Falling (Contradictions #1) (2 page)

I zoned out for a while as he talked, mostly about himself, and instead, took a look around the room. It had filled up rapidly in the time that it’d taken Declan Fox to bore me to fucking tears.

I noticed a tall girl, with poker-straight blonde hair staring at me. She was pretty enough to make my dick stir in my jocks, but I hadn’t had sex in almost a week, so anything female, of age, and with a pulse was probably capable of that.

I was about to return her smile, when I was jostled by someone trying to squeeze in to get served. I stepped back to give them room, and that was when I saw her. When I say “her”, I mean her arse. The most perfect arse I’d ever seen in my life. Unlike the tall blonde that had been obviously trying to get my attention a moment ago, this girl was short and curvy.

Her straight black skirt looked as if it had been sprayed on. There was absolutely no way she could’ve possibly been wearing knickers, or even a thong underneath it. I would’ve seen the outline, believe me, I looked fucking hard enough.

She had a big wide shiny belt around a waist that was so small I probably could’ve spanned it with my hands, and it took everything I had in me not to walk right up behind her and do exactly that.

She turned.

I swayed slightly and tried not to let anyone notice the adjustment I had to instantly make to my pants.

“
Fuck me
.” Quietly escaped from between my gritted teeth.

She was wearing a basque, or corset, or whatever the fuck those lace up things that for the sanity of every hot-blooded bloke on the planet should
only
be worn as underwear. It looked like it had been painted on, and then it didn’t. It ended, the underwear thing that looked like it belonged in another century, and the most amazingly pale, flawless, creamy skin began. Her tits sat perfectly on her chest. I may have groaned slightly as her exposed flesh jiggled as she moved. My eyes wandered slowly to her neck, where a piece of black satin encircled her perfect throat, and then travelled on up to her face.

Her
face.

That
face.

You know how in cartoons, when a character swallows a bomb, or dynamite and it blows up inside them? There were no blood, or guts, just a
boom
and a yellow flash as their body expands and then contracts, smoke sometimes coming out of their ears . . . Yeah, you still with me? Well, as I watched her walk across the room, balancing four shot glasses in her hands, I knew exactly how each and every one of those cartoon characters felt, except it wasn’t because I’d swallowed dynamite, it was my heart, my head, my entire body’s reaction to
her
.

Those curves.

That waist.

Those tits.

That face.

Wide blue eyes, lined with black. Full, plump lips stained red. Shortish hair, the colour of . . . what was that colour? Light gold or copper, even a little bit of blonde, whatever. Just like the rest of her, it was perfect. Fucking perfect.

I wanted to reach out and touch, stroke, lick, and suck that creamy skin, and just as if my desires had a voice, as if my need, want, and lust could be heard above the sound of “Love Don’t Let Me Go”, she stopped moving. I stopped breathing. Silently, or maybe it wasn’t, I begged her to turn around and look at me.

And then she did.

That heart of mine, the one that had just exploded in my chest? I wanted to cut it out. Cut it out, carve her name into it, and then hand it to her on a plate. I wanted her to own it. To do whatever the fuck she wanted with it, because it was hers, and I feared, or subconsciously hoped, that it quite possibly always would be.

“That’s Mel, she’s Luke’s ex so it’s no good you getting your sights set there,” Dick, I mean Declan, said from beside me. I blinked a few times as I processed what he’d just said. Shorty, the girl with that skin and the jiggle thing going on, broke our connection, turned, and walked off through the crowd.

“What’s that, mate?” I knew exactly what he just told me, I just didn’t want it to be true. Luke had told me all about Mel, she was an ex-girlfriend of his that he’d recently recruited to work for us.

I was worried at first that their past could be an issue, but he’d promised me they’d both moved on.

When Luke had first left England to travel, Mel was his girlfriend. She was just finishing up an internship and had promised to wait for him, even promised to meet up with him and spend time wherever he settled, then only three weeks after he left, she was caught by her boss’s wife, sucking her boss’s dick. Turned out, she’d also been fucking the boss’s son. The rumour mill of their small hometown in England swung in to play, and news reached Luke just a few days later.

I felt like I was on the verge of a panic attack as my brain processed all the information. My heart beat so hard against the confines of my ribcage that I was convinced I would break a bone . . . damage some cartilage at the very least. I didn’t want her to be Mel, I didn’t want her to be Luke’s ex. I didn’t want her to be the kind of girl that was capable of treating my business partner like that. In fact, the very thought of her fucking or sucking anyone caused such an inexplicably intense ache in my chest it was visceral.

I knocked back the last of the drink and finally let out a long breath.

Jet lag.

That was the only thing I could put my extreme reaction to this girl down to. I didn’t do this, it wasn’t me.

“Luke’s ex. Nice to look at but she’s toxic to touch.” I heard Declan comment from beside me.

“Not a problem, mate. She’s really not my type.”

“Good, coz that would cause all sorts of trouble in paradise, and really mess up your newly established little business venture and partnership.”

I turned and looked at him with a frown. What the fuck was this bloke’s problem? He winked at me before adding, “And Mel’s everyone’s type, but don’t worry about it, your secret’s safe with me.”

I caught the barmaid’s eye and ordered another drink, a double in fact, and turned away from him, choosing to totally ignore what he’d just said.

I picked up
our shots and headed back over to where Sasha was standing. I didn’t know what made me do it—an unconscious pull, an urge, something that I just couldn’t fight—I couldn’t explain the reasoning, but it stopped me in my tracks and forced me to look over my shoulder. That was when I saw him.

He was tall, at least six foot. His hair was blond or a very light brown, I couldn't really tell in the lighting of the club, but I could see that it was longer than collar length and pushed back from his face. His eyes were blue, which I was sure of, and they were looking in my direction. Not just looking, but staring intently, piercing.

He saw me. All of me. Every molecule, each and every cell that made me. I just knew he could see every single one.

I shuddered, feeling slightly unnerved by the intensity of his gaze and my body’s response to it.

My heart, my traitorous, treacherous heart didn’t hesitate to give up a piece of itself. After punching its way out of my chest and sprinting at record pace the short distance to where he was standing, it worshipped at his feet for a few short seconds before launching itself into his hands.

I stood and observed, anchored to the spot. Incapable of doing anything more than hope and pray that he would look after that little piece of me that he held. I knew, I just knew with every fibre of my being that it was now his forever. And I didn't even know his name.

It was the realisation that Declan Fox, one of my brother’s acquaintances, was saying something into his ear that had me finally turning away and continuing on my path back to Sasha.

Declan Fox. There was just something about him that had always made my skin crawl. He was a slimy prick who loved no one more than he loved himself, and he was a bit too touchy feely for my liking. He always seemed to invade my personal space when it was completely unnecessary.

“Seriously, Sares, you go to Mexico for that tequila?” Sasha asked. I knew she was only joking but ol’ blue eyed, starey hot bloke from the bar had me feeling all unbalanced.

“You’ve got legs, go get it yourself next time, and we’ll see if you can get served any faster. Now drop your shot and quit your bitching.”

She stared at me for a few seconds, her mouth opening and closing. I was the quiet one out of the pair of us and rarely answered back.

“Since when did you grow balls?”

“Since you’re complaining started to piss me off. There was a queue okay, not my fault.” She looked at me with eyebrows drawn down into a frown, raised her shot glass to mine, and continued to stare me down as we both necked them in unison.

“God I love that stuff.”

“Me too,” I agreed while pulling a face that said otherwise and shuddering.

Silence followed for a few seconds as we sucked on our limes.

“You need to get your leg over, love. That’s why you’ve got the hump tonight.” I most certainly did not disagree with that statement, but I wasn’t about to let her know that.

I dropped my chin and raised my eyebrows, giving her my best are-you-fucking-serious look.

“Don’t look at me like that, Sarah Kathleen Carter. How long’s it been now?”

“Will you hush your noise?” I tried to make it sound like an order instead of a request, as I looked around the night club where my brother’s surprise thirtieth birthday was being held.

Luke, my older brother by eight years, was my rock, my big brother, and my joint best friend next to Sasha. He practically raised me during the first few years of my life.

Luke had slept with me in his bed when I was first born, simply because it was easier for him to feed me during the night. My mother, usually out cold on Valium or whatever else she’d thrown down her neck to escape the reality of her oh so terrible life, would simply sleep through my crying. He was just an eight-year-old boy and was left to take care of a new born.

We got lucky when our grandparents stepped in and raised us, but a lot of the damage was already done.

It was the night before I started school that I finally started sleeping in my own room, almost two years after moving in with Nan and Grandad. I cringe now at the thought of him being thirteen by then and still sharing a room with his little sister. I blush to the roots of my hair when I think back to all the times I burst through the door and caught him doing what thirteen-year-old boys do, or in Luke’s case, what he’d been doing at eleven, twelve,
and
thirteen. Hands down his boxers, strained look on his flushed face. I assumed for a few years that he had year round hay fever because of the amount of tissues he got through.

In the end, my grandparents promised me a New Kids On The Block themed bedroom that my little five year old heart craved. I just had to promise to sleep in my own bed each night.

The bribery worked. I curled up in my very own bedroom, in my very own bed, wrapped in my NKOTB quilt each night, and fell asleep as I debated whether it was Jordan or Joey I was going to marry.

This left my brother finally having his own room and the privacy to blast out “U Can’t Touch This”, while he probably most certainly
was
touching
this
and very probably
that
too, at the same time as he was looking at pictures of Betty Boo and Kylie Minogue.

Despite our traumatic early years, I had a happy childhood. We weren’t poor, we wanted for nothing. Nan and Grandad, Mai and Archie, were good people, and they loved us unconditionally. Not that I ever really gave them anything to complain about. I never went through a rebellious stage, so I sailed through my teens pretty easily. I was the consummate good girl, not really having a choice with Luke and his entourage always looking out for, and checking up on, me.

When I turned sixteen, Luke went off traveling. He’d finished uni, and before settling down and looking for work, which would put his business management and international relations degrees to good use, he decided to see a bit of the world.

For the first couple of years, he just travelled around Europe and would come home for the odd week, or sometimes even a month. It wasn’t until he went further afield to America, Asia, and finally Australia that I became terrified of being left behind and forgotten about, which I’d kept to myself. He’d been there for me throughout my life, holding my hand at all of the important milestones, and we both knew it was time for me to stand on my own two feet.

Despite missing him terribly, Luke leaving was the making of me. I left college, unsure of whether I wanted to go on to university or get a job. I signed up with an agency so that I could earn some money through the summer and make a decision about my future, which was decided for me when I was offered a permanent position in the office of an investment bank in London’s Fleet Street. It wasn’t a graduate or even an under grad position, but the money was good and there were opportunities to work my way up the secretarial ladder, if that was what I wanted.

When I turned twenty, I was earning enough money to be able to move out of my grandparents’ place, allowing them to finally move from the huge four bedroomed detached home that they’d raised us in and buy their dream home in the Suffolk countryside. I, in the meantime, rented a brand spanking new flat in London’s Limehouse with Sasha, who was also working in the city. There was just a ten-minute walk separating our offices, and our new East of the city living location opened up a whole new world for us. No more rushing for trains and an hour and a half commute. We could leave home and be at our desks just twenty minutes later. The bars and night clubs that were filled with investment bankers and traders were now our locals. For two years, we wined, dined, clubbed, and partied our way through life in the city. We had fun, but it wasn’t home. I missed the familiarity of walking into a pub and knowing at least half the people in there, including the bar staff. So when Sasha applied and got a job as an office manager back in our old home town and decided to move back, I knew that life on my own in the city wasn’t what I wanted. I was a homebody. Life in London was fun but on my own, I knew I’d get lonely. I decided to follow Sash, and with the experience I’d gained working for a high-profile company, I quickly landed myself a job as the secretary and personal assistant to the boss of a large car dealership. The money wasn’t as good as I was used to but the rent was a quarter of what we had been paying in London, meaning we were able to afford a three bedroomed house, instead of just a pokey little flat.

Making my return to my hometown complete, just two weeks after we moved into our new place, I received an email from my brother, telling me he was coming home.

Shortly after arriving in Australia, he’d met up with someone in a bar in Sydney whose family had a company that recruited staff for the Australian mining industry. Luke had quickly settled into the Australian way of life and had remained there for four years on a work-sponsored visa. He’d made the trip home just twice in that time, and I’d missed him desperately but totally understood his need to escape, break free and do his own thing without having to worry about me.

But he’d finally returned home to set up his own agency that would recruit British and European engineers looking to move to, or to work in, Australia.

He’d been back for just over a month then, and we had all settled into life back in our old home town. He had stayed in the spare room at my and Sash’s house for the first few weeks. Once he had the kitchen and bathroom in working order at his own place, he’d moved out.

His time away hadn’t changed the bond we shared. He was still my favourite person in the world, and that was why I had spent the last ten days running around like a headless chicken getting everything set up and organised for this surprise thirtieth birthday/welcome home party for him.

“Fuck me, Sares, he’s hot.”

I had just been about to take a sneaky glance over at Mr Blue Eyed Starry Bloke, when Sasha’s words stopped me, and instead I followed her gaze.

Will was walking towards us.

My brother’s best friend and
my
first crush.

I felt heat rise up my chest and neck, setting my cheeks on fire. I got over my crush when I was thirteen and realised what man whores both he and my brother were, but for some reason, my body still reacted with a blush whenever I saw him.

Will was no more than another big brother to me nowadays. Always there looking out for me, just like most of my real brother’s mates. I didn’t have a mum or dad, so having extra older “brothers” at every turn was both cool and a complete pain in the arse, but I loved them all dearly. Except Deck, like I said, there was just something off with him.

I watched with a certain amount of pride as Will approached us. He was tall and slim, with dark, almost jet-black hair and striking blue eyes. He was wearing the suit I’d gone with him to buy last weekend and strutted towards us like he was on a catwalk, which, given his good looks, could most definitely have been an option.

He pulled me in and kissed the top of my head. “Sarah Sunshine, you’re looking especially gorgeous tonight.”

My blush deepened as he addressed me by the nickname that my brother had given me so long ago I couldn’t actually remember a time when I didn’t have it.

“Sasha,” he said with a nod towards my friend, “stunning as ever.”

“Will, looking good. Love the suit,” she replied.

He looked down at me and smiled. “Sunshine here helped me choose.”

“She chose well.”

“Can I get you girls a drink?” he asked while looking between us. “I just spoke to Cal, they’re still in the pub, but he’s aiming to get your brother here before midnight. I wanna get all but the bar lights up here switched off so he can’t make out any of the faces. I’ll get the lights switched on once he’s in the middle of the room and everyone can do their thing.”

I looked around the room as Will explained his plans for when Luke arrived. There were so many faces I hadn’t seen for years. Since my bother was eight years older than me, I was only vaguely familiar with most of his friends, but that was okay. This was Luke’s night, not mine. I just hoped that he’d be happy with all of the guests Will, Cal, and Deck insisted he would want there. I was about to ask Will about Mr Blue Eyed Starry Bloke when I heard a loud laugh from behind me. Actually, it wasn’t a laugh, it was a cackle, and I knew exactly the witch it had come from, Melanie Thompson.

I turned my head slowly in her direction, pissed off by the fact that she had her back to me and wouldn’t get to witness the incredibly amazing dirty look I was giving her. Will didn’t miss it, though.