Dirty Little Secrets: A tempting friends to lovers romance

She shook her head. “No. I haven’t read the book in a few years, so it has been a while. I probably have a build-up of tears. I really should make time to read it again.”

“Do you really think the take-home message is men are bastards?”

She nodded. “Yep, and still it is beautiful. That is a good writer, who can tell you a horrible truth but put it in such simple and perfect terms that you think your life is richer for the knowledge.”

“Interesting perspective. Not the way I see it, but valid all the same.”

Watching his mouth move while he spoke was mesmerising. His lips caressed each word. Part of it was his generous mouth, the other was his pronunciation. His accent was broad. His intonation rose at the end of each sentence, like we has asking a question. It was an interesting juxtaposition: as a man he radiated confidence but his tone made him sound like he sought approval.

“How do you see it?”she asked.

James reached for the book and rested it on his thigh. “The clue is in the title. It is about the unconditional love of a parent. It’s not about taking, it’s about giving. The tree did not need to keep giving but she did it out of love.”

“If you believe that, you’re far too much of a romantic for me. I’ve never met anyone that loves like that, certainly not my mom. She is more like the little boy who keeps taking when nothing is left.”

“Yeah, so was my dad. Maybe nobody loves like that. It represents an ideal. That is the beauty, it gives something for us to strive for, and fall terribly short.” He topped up the glasses again and raised his again to toast. “To shit parents who fail us and make us stronger.”

“I don’t want to toast to that.”

“If it weren’t for shit parents, you would be out of a job. Christ, so would I, I’d have left journalism if it wasn’t for my dad. And as you can see, it has rewarded me handsomely.” He gestured to the spacious living room. “Shit, I’m talking too much. Maybe I should have asked the child prodigy if it’s safe to mix pain medication and wine. I mean, I wouldn’t have listened but I like to know the risks I’m taking.”

“What do you mean you would have left journalism?” she asked. The idea of him in another profession intrigued her. She tended to think of journalism as a character defect, not something one could walk away from.

“Christ, I’m talking too much. You don’t want to hear about all the ways I think my dad is an asshole. Spoiler—it’s a lot of ways.”

“So why didn’t you sell the company after your father was arrested?”

“And not prove to the world there are journalists with integrity? And prove to my dad that you can run a successful company and have ethics? Perish the thought, woman. You have your life’s work, I have mine.”

“But you don’t like it?” she asked a bit too hopefully.

“I love it, actually. I could do without people thinking I was scum because of it but que sera sera.”

“People think lawyers are scum too, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“Those people are ignorant fucks. They carry on hating lawyers until they need one to get their ass out of a bind.”

Her stomach did a flip. Those were near enough the same words she had said to Ben a few hours earlier. Damn he was hot, smart men were sexy men. But truth be told, she would still be up for it if he was the dullest bulb on the Christmas tree. Thank God James was a journalist because his profession was the only thing that kept her from climbing on his lap and sampling those full lips. She took a deep breath and pushed the thought to the back of her mind where she could find it for later use.

“You do swear a lot.” She crossed her legs as a hot flush spread across her body. She really did need to have sex. She was far too turned on, even for how good looking he was. Maybe it was because he was the ultimate forbidden fruit, a journalist doing a story on her husband. No, that wasn’t it. Journalists did stories on Ben all the time. The media already knew he was odds-on favourite for Colley’s running mate. Her attraction was something different, but she wasn’t going to waste time trying to determine what that actually was.

She really hoped she had fresh batteries because she was going to need them tonight.

“Did I forget to say I’m Australian? Sorry, it slipped my mind.”

They finished the bottle of wine before James got up to check on dinner. Megan followed him through to the kitchen.

He had laid out two plates with salad, ready to be dressed.

“Here, let me get the chicken. Hot grill plus broken hand and painkillers and alcohol, I don’t think that story would end well.” She reached beneath the grill and put the meat on the plates beside the salad before turning the oven off.

“I’m not drunk, not even a little bit. Just more relaxed than earlier. Now if you compare me to a paedophile, I’ll tell you to fuck off, that’s the only difference. Other than that we are still good to go.”

He came up behind her as she put dressing on the salads. He was so close she could feel the heat of his breath against her bare shoulder. He was so large, next to her. He filled the area around her, his presence sucking out the air, leaving a vacuum of electric energy. His presence was palpable despite the inches that separated them.

She let out a ragged breath. “Good to know. I’m down with swearing. It’s just violent drunks I can’t handle.”

“I said I wasn’t drunk, but clearly I can be violent when I need to be.”

He reached around her, his hands brushing hers as he reached for a bottle of salad dressing.

She jumped at the brief contact. She turned to face him. She could read people, she would know if he was lying. “At the hospital you said you would never hit a woman.”

“Of course I would never hit a woman. I could be drunk off my face and I would never hit a woman but that doesn’t mean I can’t be violent. You saw, I broke my hand on a guy’s face.” He held up his cast for proof.

Her heart beat faster. “But you would never hit a woman?” she pressed.

“Nope.”

“What if she really pissed you off?”

“We already established that. I would tell her to fuck off.”

“What is she hit you first?”

“Look at me, I have 90lbs on you. You can hit me until your fists bleed. I’m not going to hit you back.”

She shook her head. She needed to know his trigger point. All men had one. “No, what if she was going to hit you with something?”

In an instant, James pushed her against the island, trapping her hard against his hard body and the cold marble. His body was connected to hers at every level, applying enough pressure to keep her pinned in place. He was so close. She could feel his solid heartbeat through his shirt. It was hard to breathe. Heat radiated from her core, sending scorching tendrils down between her thighs, blood pooling in their midst. With every beat of her heart. Desire mounted and her restraint was washed away like the tide carrying away sand.

“There is never an excuse to hit a woman.” He lowered his head and breathed the words against her neck. She shivered from the sensation.

She believed him.

She licked her lips. His moss-green eyes were engulfed by large obsidian pupils. She remembered that look, even though it had been years since she had seen it. It was the look of a man before he kissed a woman. She closed her eyes, a nonverbal sign: an invitation.

She had not been kissed in too long. She could not remember the last time a man had held her with the intent of using her body for his pleasure. She breathed in the moment, the sweet anticipation.

In an instant James’ mouth closed on hers. He was more than a head taller than her so she had to rise on her tiptoes to reach his lowered lips. His mouth was sweet and tasted of wine. Even though all of his weight was pressed against her, he wasn’t close enough. She wriggled her arms free and linked then around his hips and pulled him closer. Through the thick material of his suit trousers, she could feel the hard length of his erection strain against the fabric.

The feeling was intoxicating. She had done that. He was hard because he wanted her, or maybe he just wanted a quick fuck; she didn’t care, because she wanted the same thing. She had gone too long without feeling a man inside her. They would use each other, taking everything they could.

His tongue left her mouth, licking a path across her jaw and into the sensitive hollow of her neck. She threw her head back to expose the delicate flesh. With his casted hand he pushed the dinner plates to the side. His right hand encircled her waist, pulling her closer still and then high as he lifted her onto the marble counter. Her legs spread, creating space for him. She pulled his mouth down again to hers. Her fingers laced through his thick hair.

Her legs spread wider, inviting him further in. There was too much space between them. He would not be close enough until he was inside her. She rubbed against his erection, rocking her hips back and forth against the solid length.

James fumbled with his belt, trying and failing to unfasten the polished leather. Megan pushed his hand away and undid his belt and zip herself.