Page 37 of Safe in Clua

THIRTY-SEVEN

Laia

For the next few weeks, life goes on almost as normal, if you don’t count Felix’s hovering, or the fact that Mylo has taken to dropping by whenever Felix can’t be there, or the horrible, twisty, sick feeling that took up root in my stomach that morning and hasn’t budged since.

I get it. I do. And I appreciate the concern and the protection. But after more than a year of living by myself, the lack of alone-time is starting to get kinda suffocating.

“The pies have been a pretty big success in the hotel.” I grin over to where Felix is sitting across the island counter from me.

“I hear you sacked Mylo.” Felix watches me carefully as he takes a drink from his glass of water.

He’s right, I sacked Mylo from his unofficial bodyguard duties. He was exhausted between working all day on the Surf school, helping out in The Beach Hut, and appearing on my doorstep whenever Felix had to stay late at the bar. I wasn’t sure when he’d been finding time to sleep.

I was going to tell Felix. Eventually.

I stare at my plate, chasing a cherry tomato around with my fork. It’s taken Mylo three days to rat me out, or for Felix to bring it up. Either way, I haven’t been looking forward to this conversation.

My tummy knots. I ignore it. Felix doesn’t lose his temper. In fact, I’m pretty sure I have a worse temper than he has. But, even knowing this, and trusting him completely, the threat of confrontation still has a knack of setting me on edge.

I flick my gaze up to his steady blue stare. “It’s been over a month now. It’s not fair to Mylo. Or you.” I automatically check for his tells. No jaw ticking. Yet. We’re good. “Mylo has better things to do with his weekends, and I love you, but I need some time to myself, just like you must need some time to yourself. Now let’s talk about my pies some more. The manager of Clua Coffees would like some samples.” I beam a cheesy million-watt grin at him. “If I can get all of the Clua Coffees on the island on my books, I think I can hand in my resignation at The Castle. Maybe I’ll even open my own pie shop one day, how cool would that be? You wouldn’t have to deal with my pies taking over your kitchen anymore.”

My excited babbling trails off at the dumbfounded look on Felix’s face. His eyes are twinkling and his lips tilt in a lopsided grin I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear before.

“What?” I place my fork down beside my plate. “Do I have spinach?” I run my tongue along my teeth. “Stop looking at me like that.” I wrinkle my nose when his lopsided grin evens itself out into a bemused smirk and he leans forward in his chair, scrutinizing my face.

I shift awkwardly. “Felix, what?”

“You don’t even realize you said it, do you?”

“That I need a little me time?” I roll my eyes and stand to lift his plate along with my own. “Don’t you need a little time to do man stuff?”

“No, not that—just.” His dimples flicker in his stubbled cheeks and he shakes his head. “Nothing—nothing at all.”

I screw up my face but can’t stop my own smile from tipping my lips as I take the plates to the sink. “It’s a good job you’re handsome.”

“I don’t feel good leaving you on your own yet.” He leans his elbows on the island and scrubs his fingers through his hair, leaving it sticking up all over the place.

I sigh. I can’t help it. So, so handsome.

“And I don’t like being a burden.” I hold his stare as I turn on the hot tap. “Please, Felix, I just want to forget about Damon. If he comes back, then Jackson will know. They have his details at the port. And Rae has been giving me boxing lessons. Seriously—I’m almost ninja level already.” I turn my attention to running the soapy washcloth over the plates and setting them on the drying rack. “Maybe he took one look at you and your friends and decided I’m not worth the headache. Picking fights with people bigger than him was never his thing.”

“First of all,” Felix whispers into my ear from right behind me, making me jump about a foot in the air. “You’re not a burden. And second of all.” —he kisses the back of my neck— “I like waking up with you.” He bites my earlobe, wraps his arms around my waist and props his chin on the top of my head.

I meet his gaze in our reflection in the window above the sink. “Felix—”

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” His forehead lines in his reflection and my heart thuds at the honesty of his words.

He’s not trying to control me or take my freedom. He just cares enough to worry. I do get it.

I twist in his arms to face him. “Do you expect us to live like this forever?” I run my wet hands up his forearms and the muscles under his smooth, tan skin twitch beneath my touch. “And as great as it’s been having Mylo over every weekend and being with you every night, I want my life back.” I bite my lip and watch his face as I change direction and push my hands under the hem of his T-shirt, stroking the ridges of his abs with my fingertips.

It never gets old having a man this perfectly molded.

“You’re trying to distract me.” His voice is rough and deep, and tinged with the gravel he always gets when he’s thinking about getting naked.

“Is it working?” I lift onto my toes to kiss the ticking muscle in his jaw.

“I’m not happy with this, Cavana.” His brow lowers into a scowl, but he dips his head so I can reach his mouth. Only a little pissed then.

I tease the seam of his lips with my tongue. “Don’t pout.”

“Your first night home alone, huh?”

I twist the key in the lock and push my front door open, holding my cell to my ear with my other hand.

Kenzi called the second I pulled into the drive. I finished my shift at the hotel then came straight home. By myself. It’s sad how much I’m looking forward to finally finishing my book in a bubble bath with a nice cold glass of white.

“It is, and I can’t wait,” I say, careful not to show even the slightest hint of fear in my voice. It’s there, but so is the need for a night on my own. Right now, that need outweighs even my ever-present tummy spins. “Being with Felix every night has been…” I squint, trying to think of the right word as I close and relock the door behind me, pulling the four dead bolts across. Our first argument. Who buys not one, but two extra bolts? The argument lasted precisely five minutes and a brief make-out session in the lock department of the hardware store. He won. Obviously.

“Intense, it’s been really, really amazing, but pretty intense.”

Throwing my keys and purse down by the door, I kick off my shoes and wander through to the living room. “I’m already missing him, but I’m so ready for some alone-time. I wanna shave my legs without worrying about leaving a mess in the bathroom. I wanna be able to pig out on chocolate without feeling like a fat ass because he’s just done two hours in the gym. And the sex, my God, Kenzi, I’ve never had so much fantastic sex in my life—but my lady-bits need a rest.”

“So, you don’t want me to come over then?” The smile in her voice is impossible to miss. It’s not just been me and Felix this whole everybody-look-after-Laia month has been draining for. Kenzi has been around almost as much as Mylo even though things between them are still strained.

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one ready to relax a little.

“I love you for offering, but I think I’m good.” I flop down onto my hugging sofa, wiggling my butt down into the soft cushions.

“I’m just a phone call away if you need me.” Even over the phone, I can hear that she’s no longer smiling.

“I know you are. Thank you, but I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I cut the call and toss my cell onto the cushion beside me, closing my eyes and relishing the feeling of being alone for the first time in over a month.

It’s not long before night brings darkness. And noises. And all-out anxiousness.

Okay. So. Alone time—not all it’s cracked up to be.

My cell vibrates under my pillow. I reach for it groggily, what feels like about ten seconds of sleep officially over.

I flop onto my back and hold my cell above my face.

I missed you. Come see me at the bar when you get up. F x

I missed him too. Jumped at every noise. Hated not having him to curl myself around on the sofa. Missed being wrapped in his warm arms as I slept. Missed waking up surrounded by his Felix smell.

I just—missed him.

I’m on my way. Missed you too. L x

It’s only eight. I suck. Girl power just died, and I don’t even care.

After the quickest shower known to mankind, I throw on my denim cut-offs and a loose-fit gray T-shirt and hurry out the door.

I’m still twisting my damp hair into a bun when my flip flop catches on a large brown envelope that must have been propped against the door. It won’t be for me. It never is. Mrs. Devon’s son still gets some of his mail delivered to the bungalow. I normally rush it straight over to her.

But she’s still in Hawaii, so it can wait.

I pick it up and stuff it into the purse slung over my shoulder. I’ll swing by and leave it at her place when I come back to get ready for work later.

Felix

I glance over the delivery man’s head as Laia pulls into the car park in that clapped out old truck of hers and the knot I’ve had in my stomach since she left yesterday loosens. I’ve barely slept for worrying. I didn’t like not waking up to her. Not a bit.

The short, bald driver clears his throat and wiggles his receipt in my face.

I sign it without looking and absentmindedly wave him off as he climbs back into his delivery van and reverses back onto the road.

Laia jumps from her truck and slams the door shut, looking way more refreshed than I feel.

I drag my hand over my mouth and watch her walk towards me, hips swaying, pink flushing up her cheeks before I’ve even laid a finger on her. I keep waiting for it to fade?—this effect she has on me. The need to be near her, to be the one that makes her laugh, or blush, or even wrinkle her nose.

Over a month in and it’s still going strong. Stronger even, because now she’s comfortable around me. No flinching or shying away. Just Laia.

Her stare roams my face then flits down to my workout gear. “You’re sweaty.” She wrinkles her nose, but there’s no disguising the spark in her stare or the way her tongue just slid across the seam of her lips.

She likes me sweaty.

“I jogged here.” I scratch my chest over my sleeveless T-shirt. “Found myself with some excess energy this morning.” I can’t help the grin that takes over my face when the slight flush to her skin deepens and spreads down her chest.

Has it really been less than twenty-four hours since I’ve made her go pink?

“I missed you.” Her soft voice pulls me a step closer to her.

“Let’s not do it again then.” I slide a finger through one of the belt loops of her shorts and tug her to me. “I like you in my bed.”

The sigh that leaves her a second before she presses her lips to mine is enough to have my cock straining against the light material of my basketball shorts. She leans in tighter and lifts onto her tiptoes, slanting her head to tease her tongue against mine. “I like me in your bed too.”

I run my hands down her spine to her ass and lift her with little effort, wrap her legs around my waist and growl against her lips when she wiggles onto my dick.

It takes a whole load of self-control to walk up the steps and through the swinging doors into the empty bar and not just strip her naked right there in the car park. My lips barely leave hers to catch breath. Fuck, I could kiss her all day every day and never get bored. She kisses like she means it. Every. Fucking. Time.

And fuck if that’s not addictive.

“What time does Jo start?” She asks between kisses, arching her back and clenching her thighs around me.

“Why? What do you have in mind?” I nuzzle her neck, run my tongue over her pulse as I walk us behind the bar and through the door to the back.

“I’d rather just show you.” She threads her fingers into my hair and tugs my head back, rolling her hips and kissing me hard.

I kick my office door shut behind us and lower her onto my desk.

She slides her purse from her shoulder, tosses it onto the desk beside her with a flourish, then pulls me by the waistband of my shorts to stand between her legs.

“Tell me.” I smooth my palms up her bare thighs until the tips of my fingers slip under the frayed denim of her cut-offs. I know she won’t. She never does. Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy trying to get those dirty words from her pouty lips.

“Less talking, more doing.” She leans back on her elbows, knocking her purse from the desk. An envelope slides from the soft brown leather and lands on my foot.

My chuckle makes her grin as I shake my head and crouch between her legs to pick up the mess.

“Though this position definitely has potential.” She sits up and strokes her fingers through my hair, her legs swinging on either side of me.

I kiss the inside of her knee, but her name printed across the front of the A4 brown envelope catches my attention and I lift to my feet. “What’s this?” I flip it over, looking for a clue.

“Ah—it must have fallen out of my purse. It was on the doorstep when I left the house. Probably something for Mrs. Devon’s son.” She shrugs, wraps her legs around my waist and slides her fingers beneath the waistband of my shorts.

I don’t move. Or react. Or even breathe. My stare still fixed on her name as I hand her the envelope. This doesn’t feel right. “It’s for you.”

“I didn’t even check. I just assumed…” She takes it from me and her smile fades along with every drop of color from her face the second she lowers her gaze to her name. She runs her finger over the hand-written letters and swallows thickly.

Shit.

“I—how can he be here?” She blinks up at me, eyes wide. Confused. Scared. “The port has his details. I thought…” Her head shakes and she blows out a trembling stream of air.

“Open it.” I cover her hands, forcing mine not to shake with the weight of unease that’s just settled in my gut. “It might not be from him.”

“I can’t.” She shoves it back to me and pushes herself further onto the desk—away from it—away from me. “You open it.”

My heart’s thumping in my chest?, in my throat, in my fucking eyeballs, but I hold her gaze and run my thumb under the seal, moving from between her legs to empty the contents onto the desk beside her.

Photos. My teeth grind until my jaw aches.

Grainy photos of us slide across the dark wood desktop, each one more graphic than the next. Her on her knees, my cock in her mouth. Her spread out on her bed, my face between her thighs. Me on my knees staring down to where my cock disappears into her from behind. And more. And more. And fucking more.

Fury crackles down my spine and I lift a trembling hand to massage the twitching in the back of my neck, every muscle coiled tight enough to split, every fucking atom of me roaring for this not to be real.

I should have known.

Laia slips off the desk to stand beside me, still oblivious to the world of shit that’s about to smash her to pieces. I briefly consider hiding them—shoving them back into the envelope—let her stay blissfully ignorant. I can’t though. I wouldn’t.

So, I take a deep fucking breath and wait. Wait for her sharp intake of air. Wait for the wretch that wracks her body when she fully registers what she’s looking at. And I feel it all with her. Her tears. Her numb shock. Her fucking desperation like it’s ripping my own fucking chest out.

I can’t look at her though. Can’t tear my stare from the photos spread over my desk. Every touch. Every kiss. Every fucking moment, that sick fuck was there, watching.

He never fucking left.

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