Enticement Page 7

  “Something on your mind?” Ross asked. He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the back of her neck.

  “Nah, no, it’s nothing.”

  “Good.” He squeezed her shoulder. “As long as you’ve forgiven me for last night.”

  Last night! She’d never ever forgive him for bringing Kit home, or for not mentioning that they were being spied upon during sex, although she might be appeased. She smiled winningly at Ross, hoping he’d get the message that after her fraught morning with the nefarious Mr. Scrumptious, she needed a good workout.

  “Hey, I’m gonna get changed. Back in a few,” Ross said, squashing her fantasy of them getting frisky against the side of the fridge.

  Evie listened to the thump of his shoes on the stairs. A few minutes later, he thundered down again, and went out of the front door. Surprised, she strolled into the living room intent upon the window. Halfway there, the phone rang, startling the kitten, who began to squirm. “Hello,” she muttered into the mouthpiece, still juggling the yowling fur ball.

  “Ah, good afternoon, Ms. Latham.” Ross’s voice echoed down the line, presumably from his mobile, or else he’d nipped across the green to the call box. “This is Rent a Fantasy calling to let you know that your order is just five minutes away.” The emphasis on certain words made him sound like a cross between a double-glazing salesman and a cheesy game-show host.

  “My what?” She laughed into the receiver. Phone wedged between her shoulder and ear, and now trying to extract the kitten’s claws from her shoulder, Evie tweaked back the curtain, but couldn’t see any sign of Ross.

  “Oh, I am sorry, madam.” Ross’s voice lost its screech of excitement and turned butler serious. “Do you mean to say you didn’t order your free trial from this month’s catalogue of mouth-watering man whores?”

  “Man whats?”

  “Whores, madam. Mouth-watering man whores. They’re on special at the moment.”

  Determined to find out exactly what Ross was up to, Evie returned to the kitchen and dropped the kitten into her box, before checking out of that window too. Ross stood at the bottom of the garden, huddled between their decrepit shed and the line of Norwegian Spruces. He appeared to be wearing his favourite pinstriped business suit.

  “Well,” she hedged. Maybe he had something better than a kitchen quickie in mind. “Now that I think about it that does sound familiar. Perhaps if you reminded me of the order.”

  “One man-whore, required for subjugation, extreme tongue gymnastics and repetitive solitary stimulation. Intercourse, verbal and otherwise, optional, but not required.” He sounded as if he were reading off a sheet. “You did request an outdoor location, but I’m afraid we only do home visits with our free samples.”

  Laughing now, Evie opened the back door and made her way down the steps into the garden. “You know, I think I see him coming.”

  “Oh, no,” he assured her. “He’d never do that without your express permission.”

  “Ross.” She tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Evie, you’re supposed to stay inside.” He hung up and pushed the mobile into his back pocket. “Honestly, woman.”

  “Shh!” She slid her hand inside his jacket and up around the collar of his shirt, before teasing him with a gentle kiss.

  “Evie.”

  Evie grabbed him by the tie and walked him back towards the house, already planning out what to do to him. That tie would be coming off first and going back on around his wrists. She’d keep his belt fastened and just undo his fly to get out his cock, so she could see how aroused he got from licking her.

  She saw Kit’s feet first, sporting a pair of black leather winklepickers. He stood at her eye-level at the top of the back door steps, holding the cat. “Both doors are open,” he said, his brow crumpled. “Are they supposed to be?” Then quickly followed with, “Oops, sorry! Guess my timing’s a bit off again,” when he caught sight of Ross. “Maybe I’ll just go make myself scarce in the shed, or my room, or something.”

  “Forget it,” Evie snapped, unable to prevent her annoyance from permeating her voice. Sex was off the menu while Kit was in the house. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t standing over them, he’d still be listening, and he’d still be aware of what they were up to. For a fleeting moment she pictured him on the narrow single bed in the guest room, his leather trousers pushed down and his cock thick in his hand. She wasn’t making love to Ross with that image in her head.

  “Evie,” Ross protested when she let go of his tie.

  “It’ll save.” She gave him a second, sloppier kiss and patted his bum. “Why don’t you two go over to the pub and play catch up for awhile.” She stormed inside before either of them had the chance to argue.

  Damn Kit! Damn him to the infernal pits of hell.

  Ross gaped at the toes of Kit’s shoes for several minutes before closing his mouth. Trying to explain why the White Boar on a Saturday afternoon possibly wasn’t the best place for him and Kit to be seen would only provoke questions on a topic he had no wish to discuss. “You know your timing sucks. But then, it always did,” he said.

  Kit glanced sheepishly at him and responded with a meek nod. Ross wasn’t fooled.

  “You know my spidey sense tingles whenever you get your cock out,” Kit joked a minute later as they strode across the green, having first shooed the mewling kitten back into the house.

  “Shame you take no notice of it, then.”

  “Unfortunately, it only works over short distances, and you know I hate to miss out on seeing you in action.”

  “Back off, Kit,” Ross hissed, picking up the pace. The burning prickle of high emotion trickled down his spine and through his nose, making him sneeze. It was crazy how his world could be so ordinary one day and topsy-turvy the next. He wanted to throw his arms around Kit and cling onto him, and at the same time longed to punch him in the guts for all the anguish he’d caused. Of course, he did neither. Although, maybe a muddy wrestle on the green would’ve diffused some of the rattling tension between them. Problem was, it’d probably turn into the foreplay of a bloody good shag, and that was somewhere they weren’t going, especially not with half the village likely to turn up to spectate, Evie included.

  “I don’t suppose it’s changed in here,” Kit remarked, pushing open the barroom door.

  Ross shook his head. As typical for a Saturday afternoon, the bar smelled of stale beer and wood smoke from the fire in the snug. A group of men were leaning over the pool table, while another set engaged in darts. Footie filled the huge screen along the back wall, and the sounds of the match boomed over the gaggle of voices. Having sidled in expecting the room to fall silent due to Kit’s presence, Ross looked around, momentarily bewildered by the lack of response.

  “Let’s head into the lounge. We’ll at least be able to hear ourselves in there,” Ross muttered, before leading the way.

  Pints procured, they settled at a table by the window. Kit doodled an obscene drawing in the dust on the window ledge, then scrubbed it out when a couple came in with their kids. The difficulty seemed to be in knowing where to start. In the end they mulled over Kit’s experiences in Japan and his plans for Rose Cottage, all of which hinged on Kit being mobile, since he planned on doing a lot of the work himself. “There’s a big car second-hand dealership out towards Harrogate,” Ross said. “We could all go over there tomorrow and see if we can pick something up.”

  “Is that you, Christopher Skye?” The interruption turned both their heads. Expecting trouble, relief washed through Ross’s chest like the first rush of desire when he recognized the old lady hobbling towards them. Her young companion remained by the bar, in embarrassed shock. “It is you, isn’t it? Good grief, you need a haircut. Can’t see your eyes behind that overgrown frippery.”

  Kit slid off his chair and stood to greet her. “Yes, Doris. It’s me. It’s good to see you.”

  “Hm, well I can’t imagine why you’d think that. I seem to recall you scampering off as fast
as you could in the past, afraid an old lady might hamper your style. Laura’s just the same. She only brings me over here because her mum twists her arm. Amazing what the young folks will do for twenty quid. My great-granddaughter, Laura.” She nodded towards the girl at the bar, who winced and dipped her head to concentrate on sucking up the Technicolor fruit and vodka drink she had sat before her, clearly embarrassed at having been caught checking them out.

  “Don’t you even think about it, my girl. He’s far too old for you,” Doris bellowed, at which the girl slunk off towards the toilets. In all fairness, Ross could see why she had to be bribed into playing escort. “We don’t normally do Saturdays. Sunday’s our day,” Doris continued, in a hideously loud whisper. “But the boyfriend stood her up. Complete waste of space he is.”

  Expecting a full blown account of poor Laura’s unfortunate choice of companion, Doris’s next knocked him for six.

  “I didn’t think we’d see you back here.” Her wizened face fastened intently upon Kit’s face. “Flora always believed. It’s why she told the cat’s home to F off. Wiltshaw kept pestering her for money. He told her that if you had any sense you’d stay in whatever hellhole you’d found yourself in, and Kirkley would be all the better for it. Well, of course, Flora didn’t like that one bit.”

  Nor it seemed did Kit. His smile wavered.

  “I stayed with her to the end,” Doris continued, oblivious to the strain slowly colouring Kit’s face. “Flora was ever so upset you didn’t come, but I don’t think she’d have recognized you anyway. Poor thing had quite forgotten you’d all grown up. Kept telling us all that you only ever stayed for the summers and that you were with your parents. She kept calling my Laura ‘Sammie’.”

  Ross heard the air stall in Kit’s throat. He didn’t realize the remark had much the same effect on himself until his lungs began to scream in protest. They inhaled in unison, two volubly loud breaths. Several heads craned in their direction. That was it; within minutes the whole village would know that Kit had returned, assuming they didn’t already. Laura still hadn’t returned from the toilets. Ross had a sneaking suspicion she was in there texting her mates.

  Kit pulled on his jacket. “It’s been lovely seeing you again, Doris.” He cut her off mid flow and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Ross and I are off now. Things to do, places to be.”

  “Tea,” she blurted, her eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. “You must come round, both of you. I still like to have my Thursdays. And Ross, you must bring that lady of yours with you. She’s such a dear. Everyone at the big house says how smashing she is. We’re all looking forward to the wedding. You’re not going to have one of those horrid registry affairs, are you?”

  “I’ll mention the tea,” Ross muttered. Kit’s hand locked around his wrist. They didn’t speak until they were back outside and several hundred yards from the pub.

  “Wedding? Have you got plans you aren’t telling me about?” Kit remarked as they strutted across the icy green towards the Post Office cum shop. Years of old habits swung them away from home and in the direction of their old hunting ground out by the ruins.

  “Of course not. Although, even if I did I don’t see how it’d be any of your business. Whatever you think is going to happen between us, forget it. What you started six years ago, ended then too. You can’t walk in and out of people’s lives like that and expect everything to fall into place the way you want it.”

  They paused at they end of the verge and waited for the car approaching to pass. “You have no idea what I want.”

  “I wouldn’t lay money on that.”

  Having passed them, the car swerved ninety degrees and mounted the curb. Seconds later a crumpled can sailed towards them, founting dregs of lager. It landed woefully short of their position and rolled into the gutter. “Fuck off, Skye. You fucking murdering bastard. You’re not welcome here,” yelled a duo of voices from within the car.

  Kit turned his back on them and started walking back towards the house with his head bent low and his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

  And so it begins, thought Ross as he jogged to catch Kit up. “You all right?”

  Although paled by the experience, Kit nodded his head. “Name calling I can weather. It’s no more than I expected and no worse than I got every summer I spent here. The local boys never liked me on their turf.”

  “That’s because you nabbed all the girlies.” Kit, who haled from beyond Kirkley and its adjacent parishes had, even at the age of fourteen, seemed like an exotic creature from another planet. Ross recalled how his friend’s arrival in the village each summer would cause a wave of gossip and an upsurge in the sale of mascara. The intrigue over whom Kit had been with, or had even just been seen talking to would last them all summer. The older Kit grew, the more intensely the hearsay raged. There’d been too many people around with already sharpened staves when the news about Sammie had spread.

  “I don’t want to discuss it. I don’t need to go over it,” Kit growled. He kicked open the front gate and barged through. Ross allowed the wrought iron to bang a few times before he followed.

  “I’ve not told Evie,” Ross said when he joined Kit by the front door.

  “What’s there to tell? Nothing happened, Ross, we both know that.”

  “Yes.” More doubt filled his voice than he’d intended. It didn’t matter how determinedly Kit tried to brush things off, the past had a way of sneaking up on you, and deliberately hiding it from Evie, when no doubt the whole village would be talking about it within a few days just smacked of guilt. Not that he believed for a second that Kit was guilty.

  Evie opened the front door while both he and Kit were fumbling for keys. “You’re back quick. Thought you’d be hours. You haven’t run out of things to say already, have you?.”

  “It was just a bit busy,” Ross mumbled. He inwardly cursed himself for the lie. Kit offered him a wary smile. “Besides, we can open some wine and spend the evening together.”

  “A great idea,” seconded Kit. He made himself comfortable on the nearby sofa, whereupon, Evie’s kitten leapt upon his lap. Kit shooed it away. Ross ruefully found a space on the floor and set about stoking some life into the fire. If they were planning on settling in for the night, they may as well get comfortable. Evie produced wine, chips and dips a moment later, and they fell into a discussion on films. Consequently, despite all his mutterings about keeping things from Evie, Ross pushed the episodes in and outside of the pub, and Kit’s past, to the back of his mind.

  Afternoon extended into evening, the night descending over Kirkley like a thick, swaddling fog. Kit took charge of the kitchen, leaving Evie and Ross to fight it out for the TV remote. For the second night running, food, alcohol and candlelight smoothed the irritation Evie felt at Kit’s presence. If he’d been vexingly flirtatious and charming this morning, by night Kit transformed into a beguiling angel. Candlelight softened his sharp features and made his already deep, dark eyes shine like rain-washed slate. He didn’t touch her, his body language towards her was no different to that with Ross, and yet he managed to imply everything and nothing with a few choice words and his glittering gaze. Just the way his words curled around his tongue as he spoke left her feeling wet, so much so, that when she finally fell into bed with Ross, the urgent quickie they shared barely quelled her feelings of rampant lust.

  “Evie… Evie…” The sound of her name being called seemed to echo into her dreams, where a strange conglomerate of Ross and Kit had transformed the bottom of the garden into a hermitage with internet access, from which he liked to record podcasts on the nations favourite sexual fantasies, peeping through windows being his personal favourite. He’d stare though various upstairs windows in the village and phone her up to describe the lewd goings on inside, until one or both of them ended up unbearably aroused and desperate to shag. Then only in the absolute dead of night would he come to her as an elusive incubus.

  Evie stirred, hot and parched, arousal stripping her body. Vision still ha
zy with sleep, she rolled onto her back. A streak of light streamed around the edge of the bedroom door. Kit must have left the landing light on when he’d followed them upstairs to bed, and then she guessed the cat had found her way upstairs and nudged the door open. Evie tensed, anticipating an imminent dip in the bed and the delicate press of paws upon her body as the little kitten sought out the ideal spot. Instead, something weightier settled upon her ankles. Groggily, she peered at the foot of the bed. Kit gazed back at her. The pale outline of his body shone with lamp begotten hues—shades of orange, brown and bronze.

  “What is it?” she asked, aware that beyond the solid composition of the bed and its tactile reality, the room was drawn with hazy strokes.

  Kit didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted the foot of the duvet and dipped his head below the cover.

  “Kit?”

  His hot hand settled upon her shin and slid upwards to her knee. Evie squeaked in alarm. She clamped her legs together tight, even as she felt herself grow moist. Tension screamed within her muscles as Kit’s hand moved higher to caress her inner thigh. He ducked under the duvet and crawled over her, until he covered her like a second blanket, bare skin gliding against bare skin as he settled into position. His thighs pressed to her thighs, hips aligned like two neatly stacked blocks. A scream echoed inside her chest, but when she opened her mouth all that emerged was an excited gasp.

  Ross lay snuggled up beside her, his breathing even and content, undisturbed by the rustling of the duvet or the significant tilt of the mattress. Kit couldn’t be doing this. And she couldn’t be excited by just how incredibly wrong and yet right it all felt. It’s a dream. Had to be. She hardly dared to open her eyes and meet the inky depths of Kit’s pupils. His weight above her felt real. The hot brand of his cock against her thigh more so. Kit clasped her wrists and lifted them over her head.

  “Open your eyes, Evie.”

  “No. This isn’t real.” The words resonated inside her head.