Muscling In (7 page)

“I’d love that.” Rachel smiled
and nodded enthusiastically.

Coben said goodbye to the
ladies.

I gave Harold a kiss on his
warm, port-red cheek.

Coben and I headed into the
cool night air.

I pulled my shawl closer as we
climbed into the waiting cab. “Success with Harold?” I asked.

Coben climbed in and shut the
door. “Yes, he’s great. Going to be a pleasure doing business with him. He just
gets it, you know.” He sat back and blew out a breath as though letting it take
tension from his body. “Having an easy, switched-on client will make a big
difference to the job.”

“And do you think you’ll have
to go out there? To the Middle East?”

“Maybe for a week or so, but
the majority can be done remotely, plus I have extra help now on the team. They
can do some of the traveling.”

“That’s good, then.” I paused.
“Mable and Rachel are nice.”

“Yes. You seemed to get on
well with them both.”

“I did.” I paused. “And so is
Ed. Nice, that is.”

Coben said nothing.

“You’ve met him before,
haven’t you?” I reached for his hand.

He spun to face me, his
fingers gripping mine. “What makes you think that?”

I shrugged, trying to be
nonchalant. “Just a guess.” I smiled. “I’m right though, aren’t I?”

He frowned.

“What? How can it be top
secret when you’re not even in the forces anymore?”

“It’s not top secret.” He
sounded huffy.

“So don’t act like it.” I
tried to pull my hand away. He was being weird.

He kept a firm grip of me.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. We served together, feels like forever ago.”

“Where?”

“The Gulf. No big deal.”

Of course it was a big deal.
The Gulf had taken its toll on every soldier who’d been deployed there. “Was he
your superior?”

“No, we were equal. He’s gone
up the ranks now, though, obviously.”

I nudged him with my shoulder,
smirked like a conspirator. “Is he SAS?”

He shook his head.

“Go on, tell me. He must be.
I’m guessing he’s not married, no ring, no kids, just dedicated to serving his
country. Plus he was really cagey when I asked him about his job when I was
inking him.”

“How would I know what
regiment he’s in now?” Coben stared out of the window at the passing shops that
were shrouded in darkness.

I studied his profile. He had
soft features, a straight nose and a gently sloping chin. I adored that about
him, his gentle face, easy smile. But right now it all seemed much harder than
usual—harsher and sterner. I didn’t like it and hadn’t seen it in him before.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.” He rubbed his thumb
over my hand and turned to me. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.” He smiled
but it didn’t reach his eyes.

****

The rest of the week went by
in a blur and I was glad when the Bank Holiday weekend arrived and the sun was
shining. I had a rare three days off, which would give me time to give the
house a clean through, catch up on phone calls and enjoy Coben’s company.

If he cheered up, that was.

He’d been moody ever since the
dinner party two evenings ago. Grunting rather than speaking at breakfast and
working late in the evening, coming home exhausted and answering questions with
single-word answers.

“Hey,” I called as I heard the
front door close. “TGI Friday.” I put down the spoon I’d been using to stir
chili and looked from the kitchen door into the hallway.

“Hi…” he said, hanging his
suit jacket on a hook. He still had that grumpy vibe.

“I’m making your favorite.
Come and have a beer while I cook.”

“Yeah, in a minute.” He toed
off his shoes, slid his tie from his neck and draped it over his jacket.

I scowled. A thank you would
have been nice. “Why? What else have you got to do?”

“Check my e-mails.” He undid
the top button of his shirt.

“But you’ve just come in.”
Surely he’d spent all day at his office doing that. “Come on, sit in here with
me.”

He clicked his tongue against
the roof of his mouth as though annoyed by my insistence that he spend time
with me.

Heat boiled in my veins, my
ears rang and my heart rate sped up. “Okay, mister.” I strutted up to him and
poked my finger against his chest. “I’ve just about had enough of you.”

His eyes widened and he leaned
backward to avoid my jabbing fingernail. “Sian, babe…?”

“Don’t
Sian babe
me.
What’s with the misery and the long face? You’ve been like this since Wednesday
evening.” I wanted to add that we hadn’t made love since then either, even
though he’d seemed pretty up for stripping off my sexy underwear before we’d
gone to Harold and Mable’s.

“No I haven’t.”

“You bloody well have.” I put
my hands on my hips.

“No…I…haven’t.” He stepped
around me and into the kitchen.

I followed and watched as he
pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge and popped the lid. He sat at the pine
table with his elbows on the surface.

“Coben?” I held out my hands.
“What is it? Talk to me.” I’d never had to ask him to do that before.

“Is it work?”

“Yeah, lots on.” He took a
slug of beer. It left a line of foam on his top lip and he swiped his tongue
out to retrieve it.

“But that’s not unusual.” I
stepped up to him, rested my buttocks on the table and stared down at the top
of his head. His hair was getting ready for a trim. “And surely it’s good to be
busy.”

“Yes, it is good to have the
business. Just means my mind is…”

“What?”

“All over the place.” He
shoved his hand through his hair. “It’s just all over the place.”

I flattened down several strands
he’d left sticking up. “But you’ll cope. You’ve got systems organized, a good
team.” Damn it. I hated seeing work get to him like this.

“I know.”

“And you have to remember this
is down time. The evenings and weekends are not work time. It’s
you
time…” I slipped my hand down his
temple and stroked my finger over his bristly cheek. “
Us
time.”

“Us time.” He looked up at me.
His eyeline dropped to the small pink vest top I was wearing and the line of my
cleavage. His pupils dilated a little and he pushed his beer to one side, the
base of the bottle scraping on the surface of the wood.

My belly clenched. I knew that
look well enough. It didn’t usually happen quite so fast but I wasn’t about to
complain. I cupped his chin and he stood, fast, the chair grating on the floor
tiles.

“Sian,” he said, gripping the
back of my neck with one hand, his fingers tightening in my hair. “Fuck.”

“Okay.” I grinned and slid my
hand down the column of his neck to the undone collar of his white shirt.

He loomed over me and pressed
close.

I could feel his body heat
blasting onto my skin and smell his faded cologne. He was breathing fast.

His mouth caught mine. He
cradled the back of my skull. His tongue was insistent and urgent.

Lust shot through my body and
I clung to his shoulders. I was whisked into the moment and into his desire.

“Up,” he murmured, hoisting me
onto the table as he’d spoken. He stepped between my legs, bunching my short
skirt up around my thighs. “I need you. Now.”

“Yes, now.” I reached for the
button on his trousers, released it and his zipper. God, he was so hot. Like
this, in his work clothes, smart and businesslike yet overcome with longing…for
me. His cock was straining against the material of his boxers.

He shoved my skirt up around
my waist and yanked my knickers down. I kicked my left leg and he helped them
slip so they dangled from my foot.

“I’m so hard for you. Feel.”
He pushed his trousers to his thighs, reached for my hand and pressed it over
his boxer-clad dick.

I gave it a firm squeeze.

“So you are, soldier.” I
grinned, eager to get him buried deep.

He groaned and pressed me back
onto the table. The pine was cool on my butt, and his body was so hot over me.
I hooked my legs around his hips and slid my hand up the inside of his shirt,
spreading my fingers on the warm skin of his back.

“Give me your pussy,” he said,
pushing his boxers away, then aiming his cock at my entrance.

“It’s yours. Take it.” I
tilted my hips, braced, preparing for his thrust. I had a feeling it wasn’t
going to be a slow ride.

“Are you wet?” he asked, his
cockhead parting my first folds and easing in.

“For you.” My pussy was
quivering, my clit swelling. “Give it to me.”

He slid a hand beneath the
arch of my spine and gripped me. The other held the back of my head. I was
pinned to him. He kissed me with a ravenous hunger I hadn’t known before and
pushed in.

I tensed, held my breath,
struggled to be involved in the kiss as he shoved balls deep. The dense
filling, the stitch of discomfort and the absolute passion behind his force was
mind-blowing.

Almost immediately he
withdrew, barged in again, his balls slapping up against my ass.

I crossed my ankles at the
base of his back and hung on to him. He seemed so lost in me, so consumed.

He set up a wild pace, not
letting me shift as he plundered on and on. His need for me, his almost violent
want, was hugely erotic. He was grunting, groaning, and his dick, so thick and
hungry, dragged deliciously over my G-spot.

“Oh, God.” I gasped, breaking
the kiss. His body was rubbing against my clit. “I’m going to…” It was
building. The pressure of an orgasm growing.

“Yes. Come on my dick. My dick
that’s just for you now…hard just for you now.”

“Now, yes now, forever.” I
shut my eyes, the fire inside me raging with need for release.

“I fucking love your pussy,”
he said, his voice strained. He too was close. “I fucking love my cock in
cunt.”

“Coben…” I gasped. Orgasm
swept through me as his words echoed in my ears.

His thrusts grew even wilder.
The kitchen table creaked. He squeezed me closer still, trapping me to him.

“Ahhh…” He came, spurting into
me. “Ahhh, yeah, fucking hell…”

My pussy contracted around
him. Blissful spasms of release and tingles of pleasure swept through my body.

“You’re so perfect,” he
murmured against my ear, his breaths loud and hot.

“Ditto,” I said, opening my
eyes and staring at the white ceiling. My chest was heaving against his as I
tried to catch my breath.

“I don’t want anything to
change us.” He raised his head and looked down at me.

“Why would it?” I pushed my
hands through his hair and relaxed my toes, which had curled without me
realizing.

He frowned slightly. “Just
that…”

“What?”

“You know, since we’ve been
together I’ve been so happy. I don’t want that to change.”

“Me too. Happy, that is. And
it won’t change.” I swept my lips over his. “Why would it?”

Chapter Four

Coben and I peeled ourselves
apart. The bottle of beer had been knocked over and was dripping on the tiled
floor, creating a sticky amber puddle.

Coben tucked his softening
cock away and set about cleaning up the mess.

I scooped up my knickers, gave
the meal a quick stir, then went to the bathroom to freshen up.

His words rattled in my brain
and sent a thrill through me.

I fucking love your pussy. I
fucking love my cock in cunt.

He’d never said that before as
he’d been in the final throes. It was new and exciting. But I wondered why it
had tumbled out of his mouth. What had been going through his mind and why was
he worried things might change? I didn’t know the answer to that but I would
probe a little more, let my inquisitive side out to play.

Feeling a little less like I
had the just-fucked look, I headed back into the kitchen. The spicy scent of
chili flooded my nostrils and made my mouth water.

Coben was sitting at the table
again with a fresh bottle of beer. He glanced up as I walked in, his cheeks
still flushed from the exertion.

“You okay?” he asked, smiling.

“Of course.” I set knives and
forks on the table. “You?”

He rested his hand over mine.
“Absolutely. I just…”

“What?”

“Had to have you. It just came
over me.” He studied me. “I hope I wasn’t rough.”

“Not at all, it was amazing.
The perfect appetizer.”

He lifted my hand to his mouth
and kissed my knuckles.

“And now I hope you’re hungry
for food,” I said.

“I am.”

I turned and served. I could
almost feel his gaze on me as he watched my every move. I set his meal in front
of him before adding a bowl of salad to the table, enjoying the simmering sexy
atmosphere between us. I hoped it would be a theme for the weekend after his
low mood.

“Are we still going to the
beach? Sunday maybe?” I reached for a glass of wine, then sat next to him.

“Sounds like a plan.” He
started eating.

“Weather is still looking
good. It will be nice to laze on a sun lounger, listen to the waves, eat ice
cream.”

“We’ll head to Brighton, shall
we?”

“Yes, I love it there.” I
helped myself to salad.

Coben was quiet. He stared at
the window.

Suddenly I felt like he was
drifting again. I’d reeled him back in but now where was he going? “So,” I
said. “Are you going to tell me about these ‘places’ your mind has been these
last few days?”

He set his attention on me.
“It’s nothing.”

“Of course it’s something.” I
held his gaze. “Tell me.”

He let out a small sigh. “The
other night.” He paused. “At the Sterns’.”

“It was a lovely evening.” I
thought of our conversation in the cab on the way home. “But you missed having
a proper catch-up with your old military friend?”

“Edward?”

“Ed, Edward…yes.”

He poked at his chili. “I
guess.”

“I know you’ve found it hard
to talk about the tours in Afghanistan in the past. Maybe it would have done
you good to hash through some memories.”

He said nothing.

“It’s not the same talking to
me, is it?” I went on. “I wasn’t there. But maybe if you and Ed got together
and—”

“I don’t know if that’s a good
idea.”

I often worried that he hadn’t
kept in touch with any military friends. It was as if leaving the forces had
been a completely new start for him, not just career but in every aspect of his
life. Now his only male companions were either work colleagues or family. “Why
not?” I asked. “I think it would be a great idea.”

He shoveled in a mouthful of
food as though knowing it would buy him time before he answered.

I waited patiently.

“It just wouldn’t,” he said
eventually.

“But you said you’d been
friends.”

“We were.”

“Good friends?”

He nodded. “Yes, good
friends.”

“No one would have guessed the
other evening. You barely said five words to each other.”

“It was…awkward.” He took a
slug of beer.

“Why?” I frowned. “Tell me, I
don’t get it.”

“I suppose there were just
things we would have liked to say to each other, talk about, but couldn’t
because there were other people there who shouldn’t hear those things.”

“Including me?”

He reached out and covered my
hand, the one holding my fork. “No, not including you. I think…maybe it’s things
I should have told you, long ago.”

“Like what?” Were there
horrors of the war that lurked in his psyche that he still hadn’t allowed to
surface?

“Not now,” he said, resuming
eating and piling up his fork with the last of his dinner. “But I will…soon.”

“Deal.” A sudden idea popped
into my mind. “You know I have Ed’s phone number, right?”

“What? Why?” He looked
shocked.

“Standard procedure at
Dragon’s Ink. He put it on the form when he came in for his tat.”

Coben’s shoulders relaxed a
fraction but his expression was still riddled with confusion.

“Everyone leaves a number in
case we have to follow up on anything.”

“I see…so it’s at work.”

“Yes. You want me to get it
next week?”

He finished his beer. “Nah,
don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

“Okay, well if you change your
mind let me know.”

Coben stood and began to load
the dishwasher.

That was the deal. Whoever
hadn’t cooked, tidied away. I finished up the last of my salad and twisted to
watch him, content to sip my wine and study his cute ass as he bent over.

“I might go shopping tomorrow
afternoon with Stella,” I said. “I haven’t seen her for ages. Do you mind?”

“No, not at all. I’ve got a
few admin jobs I want to catch up on.”

“Great. I’ll only be a few
hours. And we’ll have all day Sunday together at the beach.”

He straightened and turned to
me. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” I smiled and reached
for my handbag. “I’ll drop Stella a text, then.” I rummaged through the
contents, pushed my purse out of the way, removed my makeup bag and pulled out
a packet of tissues and a hairbrush. “Bugger, I’ve left my phone at work.”

“You sure?” He looked worried.

I thought back and groaned.
“Yes, I remember now. I was getting ready to leave and Drake called me back
about something. I remember putting it on my workstation and then going over a
few designs with him. It must still be sitting there. I’ll have to go in
tomorrow morning and get it. Drake was shutting up early tonight. He was going
out.”

“That’s a pain, to have to
traipse all the way there on your day off.”

“It won’t take long, and I
can’t go a long weekend without my phone. My mother will freak. You know she
always calls me on a Saturday lunchtime.”

He laughed. “Yes, you’re
right, Margaret has her routine. Come on, let’s go and cuddle up and watch TV
for a bit.” He held out his hand.

I took it, pleased that he
seemed more relaxed. It just went to show what a bit of pre-dinner fun and a
good meal could do to a man’s mood.

****

The next morning I got up
early, having left Coben sleeping in bed, and headed into work, wanting to get
the job of collecting my phone done and out of the way.

Drake looked up from a tat he
was working on as I went in. “Sian, what are you doing here?”

“My phone.” I pointed to my
workstation and clicked my tongue on the top of my mouth. “I left it.”

He glanced over. “Sorry, I
didn’t notice.”

“No worries.” I scooped it up
and checked the screen. No missed calls but one text from Stella.

Fancy a mooch down King’s Road Saturday pm?

I quickly replied.
Exactly what I was thinking. Knock for you
at 1?
XOXO

I slipped the phone into my
purse. The file that held the details of all my clients caught my attention.
Ed’s contact number was in there. I bit my bottom lip. I probably shouldn’t
take it because it hadn’t been given for social reasons. But still, something
inside told me it was the right thing to do, for my husband.

I flicked through the leaves
of documentation and quickly found Ed Mooreland. I added his number into my
phone, then put the form away again neatly.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday,” I called
to Drake.

“Yep, have a good one.” He
didn’t look up.

****

I arrived home to the heavenly
smell of coffee. Coben was in the kitchen, freshly showered, his hair still
damp, and pouring a fresh pot.

“Good timing.” He reached for
another mug when he saw me. “You get your phone?”

“Yes, it was exactly where I
left it.”

“Busy in the shop?”

“Not too bad this early.
Walk-ins tend to be later in the day.” I reached for a piece of paper and a pen
and pulled my phone from my handbag. I scrolled until I found Ed’s number, then
scribbled it down.

“Here.” I placed the square of
notepaper on the table next to where Coben was now sitting.

“What’s that?” He picked it
up.

“Ed’s number. In case you
change your mind and decide to call for a catch-up.”

Coben didn’t reply. He just
stared at the numbers.

“You should,” I said. “Call
him, that is. Sooner rather than later if you’re going to. He’ll be off leave
soon.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just…”

“What?”

He set the paper down and
rubbed his fingers over his forehead. “Lots of memories.”

I sat next to him and rested
my hand on his shoulder. “Memories you two share…so share them.”

He looked at me. “I do love
you, you know.”

“And I love you.”

He leaned forward and set a
firm kiss on my lips.

My phone trilled to life.

“You know who that will be.”

“Your mother.” He reached for
his coffee, smiling. “Go give her the weekly update of your life.”

I picked up my phone and hit
answer.

“Hi, Mum.”

“Sian, dearest, how are you?”

“I’m fine, are you?”

“Yes, busy, busy, you know
with the village garden club. We’ve got the fete this afternoon.”

“Oh yes, of course.” I headed
out of the kitchen and into the living room. Coben didn’t need to listen to our
chatter while he was having his first cup of coffee of the day. “How are the
preparations going?”

“Well Belinda Jones is
supposed to be judging the vegetables but she’s gone into hospital with a
broken hip, so I think I might be taking on that role. Not that I’m an expert.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

We talked for half an hour. I
filled her in on what I’d been doing at work, told her about the nice meal at
the Sterns’—though I didn’t mention Ed—and finished our weekly round up by
telling her I was going shopping with Stella.

“Give Stella my love.”

“I will, Mum. Bye, and I hope
it all goes well at the fete.”

I hung up and wandered back
into the kitchen. Coben was standing at the window, staring out into our long,
thin back garden. He was holding his phone.

“You okay?” I asked, unused to
seeing him so motionless.

“I just called Edward.”

“You did?” I was surprised. I
didn’t think he would even though I’d given him the opportunity. “How did that
go?”

“He’s coming here.” He turned
to face me.

“Oh, that’s good, then. You
can talk in private.” I paused. “When is he coming?”

“Now. Said he’d be here in
twenty.”

“Wow, that’s keen.”

Coben shrugged, then poured
more coffee. “I guess he just wasn’t doing anything else today.”

I glanced at my watch. “Well
I’m heading out soon anyway to meet Stella. There’s some steak and sausages in
the fridge if you want to light the BBQ and cook something up. Why don’t you
have a beer in the sunshine while you chat?” I gestured to the sunny sky
outside. “Might as well make the most of it.”

“Mmm…yes. Might do that.” He
set his coffee on the table before striding to the back door. He flung it open,
letting in the breeze and the sounds of the birds and the distant growl of
London traffic. He breathed deep.

“You okay?”