Page 7 of Tears of Glass

Dan groans, his forehead dropping against mine. My need for a release overtakes every other thought. “Faith.”

“Please.” I kiss his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. “Please.”

His hands burn through my shirt, his powerful fingers firm.

When his lips meet mine, I know he’s going to give me what I need. A steely resolve pushes him deeper and closer until our tongues are entwined, our breathing ragged. His shirt falls back as I push it off his shoulders and the heat of his skin sends a tremor through my body.

Lifting me, he shifts us until I’m lying on the couch and he’s hovering above me, his large body blocking the light of the room.

There’s no teasing and touching. I don’t want that. He pulls my skirt up and releases the waistband of his trousers, freeing himself from his boxers. With one hand he shifts my knickers aside while he leans on the other and then edges inside me. It stings a little. I’m not ready, but I need it all the same. The more it hurts the better it will be.

He pushes inside me and I move alongside him. It’s different. So different. He kisses me, but they aren’t the secret kisses I’ve been used to, the kind that’ll tell and keep secrets.

I cling onto his back, as he gets faster, deeper. Then he’s tugging at my hair. “Faith, are you going to come?”

I nod. But I’m not.

He pushes into me one last time and then collapses on me. Holding me as he breathes into my neck. “I’ve always loved you, Faith.”

He slides me over, pulls down my skirt and settles at my side, wrapping his firm arms around my middle. Quickly his breathing settles into a regular pattern and I know he’s asleep. The vodka and the release have sent him off on his first real sleep since Al died.

I cry. Tears soak into the cushion beneath me.

Because even though I know he’s with her, doing who knows what with his hands, his body, his tongue, I do still love him. I don’t know what to do with that information.

I lie awake in Dan’s arms and dread what the morning is going to bring.

Chapter Three

“I thought I’d open the shop,” I say, meeting Dan’s gaze in the kitchen. He’s eating toast at the counter and I’m staring into my coffee.

I woke on the couch before it was light and set about cleaning up. At some point while I was in the kitchen, Dan must have taken himself upstairs.

The atmosphere is heavy, but I’m telling myself it doesn’t matter. We’ve been friends long enough it shouldn’t matter that we had desperate heartbroken sex after his father’s funeral. We could have had sex numerous times over the last decade or so and it wouldn’t have been any different.

He munches slowly, his gaze flitting over me.

“Have you thought about what you’re gonna do with the shop?” I fill the silence in the room.

His head shakes. “No. I cancelled all the booked appointments.” His searching glance is demanding and I sigh.

“Listen, I’m sorry about last night.” Despite what I tell myself, I feel like an apology is due. I had sex with my best friend.

He puts down the crust of his toast and steps off the high stool. “Most girls don’t cry after I’ve fucked them, Faith.”

Shit.

“You knew I was crying?” I can’t meet his eyes as he steps closer.

“Don’t use me again. I’m sorry that arsehole broke your heart, but don’t use me.”

I grab his T-shirt, not allowing him to move away. “I didn’t mean use you, it wasn’t like that. You weren’t exactly pushing me away. You were using me just as much.”

We glare at one another, but then I let a sigh out and turn my clutch on his T-shirt into a hug, sliding my hands around his waist and pulling him into me. “I’m sorry, Dan. Yesterday was so hard, I guess I just wanted...”

“Comfort?”

I nod but don’t speak.