Table for Two-epub (15 page)

Eight days after James had moved in with Liv and Ava, his father sat on the other couch in their flat, munching on one of the cookies from the mountain Ava had baked for James and his steady stream of visitors. The room was filled to capacity with flowers, fruit baskets and get-well cards.

Oscar Elliot had dropped in to talk shop, like he’d done every day this week. Ava was at work, and Liv had gone to the supermarket, so the two Elliot men had the flat to themselves.

“Elliot Construction is big enough,” his dad said. “We don’t have to grow the business.”

“That’s what you said five years ago, when I suggested we include additions and extensions in our services.” James loved his dad something fierce, but sometimes—like now—the older Elliot drove him crazy. “They currently constitute seventy-five percent of our work and income. That ‘daft idea’ turned out to be the best business decision we made. This one could too.”

James had spent the last week considering the idea. Apart from his daily trips to the physio, which Liv drove him to, he’d had a lot of time to think. Having weaned himself off the pain meds, his thought processes were a whole lot clearer then they had been post-op. But all that meant was that James spent heaps of free time with nothing to do but think.

Rather than obsess about the mess he’d made of his leg and about the rugby career that was no more, he’d put the thoughts to good use—and come up with a brilliant idea for all concerned.

Not that James expected his new concept to overtake the construction and renovation side of their business. Hell, he didn’t even propose to have much to do with it in the long run. Both his own and his father’s focus would remain on building. But if they opened a new arm of Elliot Construction, an arm that dealt with a different side of building new homes, they could offer clients a more comprehensive service.

It wasn’t just a brilliant idea, it was a sensible one. One James would never have thought of if not for Liv’s shitty circumstances at Beautiful Homes.

Oscar Elliot shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth and held up his hands for James to look at. “I didn’t get these calluses by putting pretty cushions on couches or choosing pastels for the walls instead of whites. I’m a bricks-and-mortar man. I build homes, I don’t decorate them.”

“I’m not asking you to place pillows on couches or pastels on walls. You’d suck at that, anyway.” James had inherited the clueless-about-decorating gene from his dad. “I’m asking you to open your mind to the possibility of growing the business. You tell potential clients we can build them their dream home, it’s one thing. You tell them we can build
and
decorate their home, so they get the full monty, it’s another thing altogether. A one-stop shop.”

“Five years ago I had eight employees and a handful of contractors. Now we have four different teams and more contractors than I can keep track of. I’ve had to hire a fulltime bookkeeper just to handle payments and salaries. It’s enough, Jimmy. We don’t need to grow any further. The business is already successful. It works like a well-oiled machine.”

“You’re worried you won’t be able to keep track of more employees?”

“Not worried. I know I won’t. Besides, interior design holds no interest for me.”

“Neither did additions and extensions. You were a build-from-the-ground-up constructer. But we opened up Elliot Renovations, and it worked. We can do the same with Elliot Designs.”

“Who’d run it? You? Between renos, your rugby and your weights, you don’t have the time.”

James ignored the pang in his chest—even though it slammed his heart against his ribs until both bled. Rugby and lack of time were no longer an issue for him. Rugby would never be an issue for him again. “I wouldn’t run it. Heck, I’m about as talented as you are with that shit. Nope, we’d put someone with experience at the helm. Someone who not only knows what she’s doing, but is damn good at it.”

“And where do you suggest finding a person like that?”

“I have someone in mind.” She’d been on his mind constantly, and sleeping with her beside him every night only made him think about her more.

“What about expenses? Startup costs are dear.”

“Any business worth having is worth the initial investment.”

“Let’s say for a moment I agreed—which I don’t—where are you going to find the time or energy to get it off the ground? You might not be equipped to run it, but someone will have to do the legwork.”

“I’m offsite for weeks, Dad.” Not by choice, by doctor’s orders. Even though he’d mastered the use of crutches, there were too many hazards on construction sites for him to move around safely on one leg. “One thing I have is time.”

His dad brushed his hand through his grey hair. “Christ, you’re serious about this.”

“As a heart attack.”

Oscar sniffed. “I’m not saying yes, but you might as well look into it. Bring me some facts and figures and a workable game plan, and we can talk again next week.”

That night, James sat on the couch, watching Liv wipe down the counters of the open-plan kitchen. “When will Ava be back from yoga?”

Liv checked the clock hanging on the wall. “About an hour and a half. Maybe longer, depending if she and her yoga friends go for coffee after.”

“So we’re alone?”

“Yep, it’s just you and me.” She packed clean glasses into the cupboard.

“You sure?”

“Unless someone from your rugby team is hiding in the bathroom, it’s just the two of us.” Three of his team members had dropped in to bring him a carton of Toohey’s New after practice—lest he run out. They’d stayed for all of ten minutes, but had managed to do in most of the bottles before they left.

Even James had laughed about their hurricane-like visit.

“Do me a favor?” he asked.

“Sure.” She closed the cupboard.

“Can you come over here?”

“Uh-huh.” She crossed the room, her gaze already on his crutches.

“Forget about those. Come closer. And…closer still.”

She stopped in front of him. “Now what?”

“Now, pretty one, lean down and kiss me.”

Liv blinked in surprise.

“I’d stand up,” he said, “but it would be a whole lot quicker and easier if you lean down. Or come sit beside me.” Whichever was faster.

“James, I don’t think—”

“Liv, I haven’t kissed you in days. Weeks. If you don’t give me your lips now, I fear I may forget how it’s done.”

She smirked but didn’t move. “Ava—”

“Is at yoga. We’re alone. You just said as much.”

“Are you sure you’re up to—” Her question ended in an abrupt gasp as he grabbed her wrist and tugged her onto his lap. She fell exactly as he’d planned, with her ass on his thighs and her legs clear of his newly booted shin.

That didn’t stop her from whirling on him. “My God! Are you crazy? I could have hurt you. Could have jarred your leg.”

“Could have but didn’t.” His leg might be fucked, but his arms still worked perfectly well. He was in complete control of the situation.

“What if I’d landed a few inches to the right?” she fussed.

“You didn’t.” And to reinforce his point and his control, he swiveled her around until she straddled his lap.

She slapped his shoulder. “You just did it again. What if I’d kicked you by mistake? What if you’d had to—”

He silenced her in the best way he knew, pressing his lips to hers and kissing her into submission.

It worked. Liv shut up. And she kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him and holding on as she opened her mouth to let his tongue in.

She kissed him for a long time, almost frantically. Soft whimpers escaped from her throat, and her hands clutched at his shoulders.

James’s body surged to life. He held her tight, pressed her close and relished her hungry mouth.

Liv broke the kiss with a soft cry and pressed her lips to his jaw, kissing along its length, first on one side then the other. “God, Jimmy. You gave me such a fright, phoning from hospital like that. I thought… I thought something terrible had happened.”

She placed her hands on his cheeks and tilted his face to hers so she could kiss him again. When she’d thoroughly assaulted every one of his senses, and James was lost to the taste and feel of her, she stabbed a finger into his chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”

He smiled at her. “Is this your way of telling me you care, Liv?”

“Of course I care.” She kissed him again, and then again, deep, drugging kisses that tasted like heaven. “You’re my friend,” she panted. “I hate that this happened to you.”

“You care about me as a friend?” He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “That’s all? That’s why you’re undressing me while you kiss me?”

Liv froze. Her hand, the one that had shoved his T-shirt up his chest, stilled on his stomach.

“Jeez,” she muttered, staring at the same hand in bewilderment. “What is with me and this need to touch you? Strip you?” She pursed her lips and glared down at his exposed stomach for a good few seconds. Then she shook her head, shrugged her shoulders as though she’d just lost some internal debate and muttered under her breath. “Fuck it.” She hauled the shirt over his shoulders.

James swore he heard cotton tear as it passed his ears. His already swollen cock grew another inch at least.

“Obviously I care about you as more than a friend. I care about you as…as a lover as well. Do you have any idea how hard it is to share a bed with you and keep my hands to myself?” She tossed the shirt on the floor. “Do you know how hard it is to live in the same flat, day in and day out, and not touch you?”

“You can touch me anytime you like, pretty one. For you, there are no limitations on this body.”

“No, no, I can’t. Couldn’t. You’re injured, remember? Your leg is broken.” Her shirt followed the same path as his.

“It’s fixed now.” He tried to keep his voice steady—which wasn’t easy when she sat on his lap, stripping them both. “Good as new.” Or it would be in a month or two. Or three.

“If I touched you the way I wanted to touch you, I’d probably break it again. Jeez, I don’t just wanna touch you. I wanna…I want to fuck you ’til neither of us can breathe. I want to make wild, monkey love to you.” She reached behind her back and a second later her bra was gone.

And there they were—the finest breasts in Sydney. Seeing them made him dizzier than any of the drugs had.

“I wanna swing from the ceilings with you. And I want it even more now than I did before your accident.” She climbed off his lap. “It’s like finding out you were hurt did something to me. Scared the daylights out of me.” She tackled her button and zip with a vengeance and wiggled her way out of her skinny jeans.

Watching her peel them off her long, slim legs was one of life’s secret pleasures. Didn’t matter how many times he saw it, it still turned him the fuck on.

“I swear, knowing what could have happened, what I could have lost, makes me want you even more now than before. It makes me want to grab hold of you and never, ever let go.”

James wondered if Liv was aware of everything she said when she was aroused. All the secrets she kept came tumbling out of her mouth as she undressed, and this wasn’t the first time. Whenever she came to him, hungry for his kiss or his body, she told him whatever was on her mind.

God help him, he hung on every word. Especially now. Stuck in someone else’s home, dependent on them while his damaged leg was ensconced in this uncomfortable, heavy, hot boot, was about the most emasculated James had ever felt.

Liv’s desire for him—her increased desire—empowered him. Hell, it made him a man.

Her see-through lace panties were easier to remove. One tug and they were gone, and there was Liv, standing naked in front of him. Beautifully, magnificently naked.

“It’s like seeing you in that hospital bed flipped a switch in me. Made me want to grab hold of you and never let go. Ever.” She grabbed hold of him now, tugging at the legs of his trackie daks.

He silently gave thanks the tracksuit bottoms were the only pants he could fit over his cast and boot. All he needed to do now was lift his hips and push the waist over his erection, and the elastic did the rest, slipping down over his ass as she tugged.

James pushed his boxers to his knees at the same time.

“I can’t let go of you, James.” Liv climbed back on the couch, straddling his lap again. “Not now. Don’t want to. Please, don’t make me.”

Before he could answer, she kissed him again, and then words weren’t necessary. Their tongues twined and James forgot what he wanted to say. His entire being was focused on the spitfire in his arms, kissing him, caressing his abs, rubbing her hot, wet pussy all over his throbbing cock.  

He shifted his ass a little way down the cushion, giving him and her more room to maneuver. And as she kissed him, he clasped the bottom of his shaft, holding it upright for her.

Liv didn’t miss a beat. Still sucking on his tongue, she positioned herself above him, and sank that sweet, hot pussy down over his rigid length.

Heat encased him, scalding him. Her cream drenched his balls, and the walls of her cunt squeezed him so tight, he groaned into her mouth.

God.

Jesus.

Liv.

Sweet, beautiful Liv.

He was so in love with her. So fucking crazy about the woman. Friend, shmend. She was his. Only his. And if he died in her arms tonight, with his leg a fucked-up mess and his rugby career a distant memory, he’d die a happy man.

Sex with Liv was always good. Spectacular. But this… Christ, this pretty much blew his mind. Every nerve ending was centered in his cock. Pleasure, powerful and intense, made thought impossible.

All James knew was the sensation in his groin and the woman in his arms.

Her pussy was so hot it burned him. Almost like Liv was branding herself to his shaft, leaving an indelible impression of herself. Not that she needed to. James was already branded. He belonged to Liv, body and soul. 

She bounced on his cock, searing him with her scalding center.

She’d ridden him before, wild and untamed, and he’d taken her just as passionately, but never like this. Never unprotected. He’d never experienced her flaming heat against his bare cock before.