Page 20

Chapter Eight

E den expected one of Mick’s kids to answer the glossy back door, but when it swung open, Jed stood in the hallway, his dark hair mussed and stubble three days overdue a scrape.

He looked, dammit, yummy. Icy margarita on a steamy summer’s day yummy…

A button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up his tanned forearms, skimmed his wide chest, and faded-from-wear Levi’s hugged his narrow hips.

He wore no shoes and, God, even his feet, wide and big, were sexy.

Feet had never turned her on before– she didn’t think she’d paid much attention to them before– but his…

Yeah, hot.

She was losing her mind. This man was the sexual equivalent of a fair’s pendulum ride, rocking her from one axis point to another at warp speed.

She’d come to Elmsleigh to connect with Troyden, not to add a layer of crazy to her life.

But all she could do was look at him, take in his rugged face and bold eyes, and wish his arms were around her, that his mouth was on hers.

Later she would remember the front door slamming behind Jed, but wouldn’t know who moved first, him or her, but one moment she was on her feet, the next she was off them, her aching breasts flattened against a hard, hot chest, the door behind her.

She tasted wine on his lips and need on the tongue that swept into her open mouth.

Her hands lifted and locked around his neck as colours consumed her.

Her head spun and she lost her breath, literally, but who cared about something as inconsequential as breathing when Jed was kissing her?

One hand cradled her cheek, the other lay across her lower back, pulling her against his hard-as-hell and bigger-than-she-imagined cock, and she wanted more.

She wanted everything and anything he could give her.

The need to suck in some air became important so she pulled her mouth off his, hauled in a breath and caught the wild look in those dark amber eyes.

He hesitated, searching her face. Knowing he was asking for her permission to continue, she nodded.

But he didn’t move so she tunnelled her fingers into his hair and yanked his head down so she could take what she needed.

Jed caught up and took control, feeding her an intense kiss, twice as addictive.

He lifted her off her feet and he held her easily, taking her weight.

In a move that felt both completely natural and intensely foreign– she’d never been consumed by a kiss like this before– she wound her legs around his lower back, crossed her ankles, one heel digging into him.

Her beaded flip-flops dropped to the paving stones with a barely noticed clatter.

Jed continued to kiss her with single-minded intensity.

His tongue wound around hers, pulling back to nibble her lips, and to drop a long, open-mouth kiss on her jaw.

He pulled back an inch, giving himself just enough space to slide his hand between them, and he covered her breast with his big hand, his thumb swiping her already hard nipple into a stronger peak.

His erection pushed against her mound, the heat and strength of him burning through the barrier of her lightweight summer dress, thin cotton panties and his jeans.

Their heat could power Siberia during a winter blizzard.

He returned to her mouth and lifted his other hand to hold the back of her head, lifting it to change the angle to kiss her deeper and harder.

The weight of him kept her pinned in place against his front door, and his other hand dropped from her breast to skim up her thigh, to cup the edge of her exposed left cheek, his fingers sliding under the barrier of her panties to edge close to the juncture of her thighs.

She squirmed, trying to move closer to his creeping fingers, needing him to finger her, wanting his finger inside her.

Wanting every inch of him, in the most biblical way possible…

‘Fuck, you’re so hot and so wet,’ he muttered against her mouth.

‘Touch me,’ she whispered. ‘I need you to.’

‘Eden …’

His finger skimmed over her lips, flirted with her entrance and found her clit, and she arched her back, releasing a combination of a squeal and a hum as heat and power rolled through her, a staircase of need and light and sensation. Just a few more steps and she’d reach nirvana…

Then she started falling, but not because she was experiencing a happy ending.

The door behind her back opened, someone shouted, ‘HOLY SHIT!’ and she felt the world spin.

And then she was falling, with Jed underneath her.

Her knee hit the stone hallway and her chest bounced off Jed’s and her forehead connected with his nose.

Droplets of blood arced through the air…

Was it his or hers? A hot spike of pain ricocheted through her.

And damn, yet again, she couldn’t catch her breath.

Not because she was overcome with lust and flying on the wings of passion, but because she’d had all the air knocked out of her when her chest slammed into his.

Jesus and all his cherubs, the countryside was determined to kill her.

Splayed across Jed’s wide chest, conscious of the cool evening air on her butt and the back of her legs, she couldn’t find the energy to pull down her dress. She needed air to move, and she couldn’t find any yet.

‘Fuck, I think my nose is broken,’ Jed muttered from somewhere beneath her. ‘And which one of you nosy bastards opened the door?’

Mick’s face appeared in front of hers, wavy and indistinct. ‘Eden, are you okay?’ she asked, sounding like she was at the end of the Channel Tunnel.

Eden opened her mouth, tried to talk, couldn’t find air and shook her head. She knew she shouldn’t panic, she wasn’t dying, but damn, it felt like it.

‘You’re winded, sweetie, just relax and air will flow into your lungs,’ Mick crooned, stroking her hair off her forehead.

Eden looked up. Behind Mick was Justin, and Kit and Mateo.

Despite having no oxygen going to her brain, she noticed their eyes flickering to her butt.

Justin looked concerned, and then Alistair, his skin and eyes as dark as night and his expression ferocious, walked into the hallway.

He looked down at them, shook his head and, as if seeing a tangle of limbs on the hallway floor was a common occurrence, pulled his phone from his pocket and started to scroll.

‘Do you think you can stand up, Eden?’ Mick asked, finally pulling her skirt down. Awesome to not be flashing everyone.

Eden nodded and tried to move her legs. Unfortunately, due to her disorientation, her inability to tell which way was up, and the do-me-now hormones still coursing around her body, she lifted her knee straight into Jed’s crotch.

He released a screech that set off car alarms in London and stripped paint from walls.

Dear God, quite an overreaction from a man who had, as Troyden had told her, broken his collarbone twice, once on each side, dislocated his shoulder and broken an ankle. It was just her little knee in his crotch; it couldn’t be that sore!

Jed’s fingers, bloody from his nose bleed, left his face and cupped his balls, and he curled up into a foetal position.

Eden took the hand Mick held out and climbed to her feet.

When she caught the sympathy on the men’s faces, even Alistair’s, she winced.

So maybe having a knee in your balls was agony…

She looked down at Jed, who was chanting a series of creative curses, at great volume and fluency. If she wasn’t so embarrassed, she’d be fascinated and impressed. He’d yet, as far she could tell, to repeat himself.

Beyond uncomfortable, she looked around, her eyes widening.

Mick’s place was surprisingly tidy and quite masculine for a doctor with two wild kids.

There were no toys, kids’ books, homework, empty glasses or uneaten plates of food anywhere.

This space looked adult and spare, filled with light and gorgeous furniture.

The hallway ran into a lounge filled with leather couches, at the back of which was a kitchen and a stunning table.

She wanted one just like it and instantly knew she could never afford it.

There were no crayon pictures on the stainless-steel fridge and no marks from messy hands on its glinting surface.

This wasn’t Mick’s house.

And the huge artwork of polo ponies in motion, abstract but stunning, on the hall wall, suggested she was in Jed’s house. The man she’d dry-humped against his front door before they even exchanged a hello.

Alistair looked up from his phone, jammed it into his suit pocket and walked over to Jed. He put his hands under his armpits and with one swift lift, had Jed on his feet. His head dropped down and blood droplets landed on his tiled floor.

‘Shit, Alistair, you could’ve warned me,’ Jed muttered, lifting his shirt to wipe the blood away from his nose. Eden swallowed at the trail of hair that arrowed down over his flat, ridged stomach into the low band of his Levis.

Still hot. Still embarrassed.

Alistair placed his enormous hand in the middle of Jed’s back and pushed him in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Stopbeing a wuss. I’m hungry and I think the lasagna is burning.’

* * *

Jed winced when Mick pushed a kitchen towel filled with ice against his snout. Shit. Ow . That hurt.

‘Do you want an ice pack for your balls?’ Mick asked, not letting up the pressure.

He narrowed his eyes at his sister, as he pulled the makeshift ice pack from her grip. She was enjoying his pain a bit too much. ‘No, I do not .’

‘I can get you one,’ Mick insisted, her eyes dancing.

He grabbed her wrist and waited until he looked at her. Their eyes met, and when she swallowed and nodded, he knew that she’d received his silent message to can the teasing. Not only was it tiresome, but Eden’s face was telephone-box red.