Page 2 of Love Thief

Opening the bathroom door to ask him if he wants to shower, my voice catches in my throat, an audible gulp replacing any intelligent words I had at the ready. Smirking, he comes towards me in no clothing at all. I try to avert my eyes, and remember to breathe. Oh, and look away. But his body would rival a Greek god, a masterpiece that draws the eye. My breathing picks up as he gets nearer.

“Like the look of your husband? You don’t have to just stare, feel free to touch.” He runs his hands up and down his taut stomach and abs, and my eyes have a mind of their own. They follow his hand motions as if they’ve been hypnotised, and he’s instigated the trigger.

I tut at him and move to go by him, but he moves his body slightly, not really enough to trap me, but not enough for me to comfortably walk past either. He’s making sure I have no choice but to brush up against him.

“Kellen, we’ve agreed,” I say in exasperation.

“No,” he murmurs, leaning in close, his breath a whisper against my ear, “you stated it. I just went along with it.” He drops his voice lower, softer. “Just so you know, I will if you want to. Because I really want to. That’s not changing.” He pulls back, looking directly into my eyes, his unusual bright green with black rings to my stormy grey, daring me to argue further.

I just shake my head and move on, brushing up close and personal, goose bumps as big as golf balls appearing on my arms. I need to put some space between us.

He doesn’t even shut the door on the bathroom, leaving me a clear view of him lathering up as I’m dressing. I sit to sort out my face creams, and get a grip on my jumbled thoughts and emotions. He knows which buttons to press, and how hard. God, don’t think about hard. It takes my mind to places I really don’t want to go. My breathing is picking up as I think about him facing me, full frontal.

As I stand, I can’t help a glance towards the bathroom. He’s pulling at his cock in rhythmic strokes, his other hand resting on the wall in front of him, his head lowered, his stomach muscles taut and beautifully defined.

My heart stutters, my mouth dropping open at the blatant sexuality on show. I’m transfixed, my vagina clenching in on itself. I'm sure it’s shouting out to him, putting the flags out so he knows where to go. Not that he would need any directions. I need to move, but my feet won’t go.

He drops his head back and, turning to pin me with his eyes, mouths my name and tugs harder, the biggest dirtiest smirk on his lips.

I forcefully uproot my feet. This is crazy. I can’t let him get to me on day one. I need to remember what he did in France, what he would have done, what he wanted me to do, and the fact that he hasn’t even apologised for it. I’ve had more apologies from Xander—who, to be honest, only kissed me—than I’ve had from Kellen.

Stomping out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, I slam the kettle on. Get your head out of the gutter. He wants you there with him. Do NOT go there.

I feel a lot more confident as I step out onto the terrace. The sunlight is bright here, and I shade my eyes as I look out over the river. I can’t be bothered to put up the umbrellas, to shut out the sun. I sit in one of the big comfy chairs and stare up at the clouds, floating slowly by as the breeze pushes them on.

I love this spot. I’m able to just watch and switch off my brain. Let the views, the boats, the weather drift past me. I normally make up stories as to where the boats are going, what they’re carrying. My own fantasy world. But this morning, my brain won’t shut down. It keeps spinning back to the man in my shower. How I’m going to deal with him. And we all remain sane.

The brightly coloured boat I’m staring at blurs, and I close my eyes. He’s here. My skin starts to prickle as I feel the first wave of energy hit me. The next onslaught is his scent. It’s so strong, even with the top notes from my body wash, his peppery leather musk seeps through. My nostrils flare, and my pulse picks up. I need a deflection technique. Think about bright boats and summer cornfields, anything to stop my mind focusing on him. But he burns so bright, he’ll scorch through the fields and blast the boats.

He clears his throat, and I open my eyes as if I’m surprised to see him.

No bloody shirt on. He’s a glorious specimen of a man. So bloody good looking it’s almost obscene. The sweatpants he has on must belong to James. They hang low on his hips, and if you look —which I don’t, of course —you can follow the V of his torso as it leads down to the outline of his dick. It’s still hard! How can that be? I ignore it, (yeah right), I mean him, and tell him about going to Devon.

“We’re ready to go as soon as you are,” he answers. “I might have to leave you there though. We need to finish up with some recordings. Then we’ve got Vegas to sort out. Are James and Bucky coming with us to Devon?”

“Yeah. And I assume Xan?”

He nods in affirmation. “They’ve just messaged. Should be here in half an hour. And they’re bringing breakfast.” He keeps his voice soft. Like a caress of the finest silk on your skin, it heats then settles to cool, seductive, sleek. But then every time you move, you’re reminded of the sensations, and the sensuality hits you again. He knows I love it.

He’s bringing the big guns to this party. No shirt, dick hugging sweatpants, and his gentle voice. Oh boy, it’s going to take everything I have to keep him in check. Why did I sign up for this? God, I love my son.

Xander is the first up the stairs, bouncing over to me. “Well, no bite marks at least this time.” He puts two fingers under my jaw, moving my neck side to side to give me a full inspection. His eyes alight with amusement.

“Well, what you can see anyway,” puts in Kellen with a grin, patting him on the back.

“Eww, stop,” exclaims James, his face crinkling in disgust. Then, changing to one of affection, he pulls me out of Xander’s clutches and in for a hug. I rest my head on his shoulder as he kisses my cheek.

“Yeah, old people, no thanks,” adds Bucky. “And even worse, your parents.” He makes a sign as if he’s warding off vampires and points at Kell for good measure. He laughs as he pulls me out of James’s arms and into his. I hug him close, as he whispers in my ear that he loves me. I can see he’s checking out my face. These boys are as bad as the Greystone men. But I know I do the same to them. The love in their eyes is a total blessing.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” I reassure him. “Make sure you boys get some food. Don’t let Tommy eat it all.” I say it loudly as Tommy is collecting all our bags. James and Bucky start to tease him about being unfit, but he just scoffs at them and plays at looking put out. He thinks he’s built like The Rock.

We all stand together with the boys flanking me, holding my hands. Kell and Xan stick to the periphery, watching the boys, watching us all. I don’t want them to feel left out, but it’s not my job to make them feel good or included.

Bucky grabs the food bags, breaking a bit of the tension. “Think we’ll have this on the go,” he states as Tommy and Mick are making short work of the luggage.

I climb into the minivan first—I hate sitting backwards—determined to get the large seats facing forward. James bumps into me as I’m stowing my jacket, and sits next to me, grinning.

As Bucky tries to get the seat next to me, Kell practically wrestles him out of the way. “Room for a little one?” He grins at me as he literally sits in my lap, he’s so close on the seat next to me, shoving Bucky into the seats across from us. “Aww that’s better,” he murmurs as he pats my leg, and squirms up close and personal. I can hardly breathe, he’s crushing into me so closely. James’s jaw is slack at his antics, as Kell just grins at him cheekily. He puts his arm along the back of my seat as Xander climbs in next to Bucky.

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