Читать книгу The Neighbours: A gripping, addictive novel with a twist that will leave you breathless - Hannah McKinnon Mary - Страница 17

NOW NATE

BY THE TIME Sarah and I got home from Liam and Nancy’s, Abby was in bed, curled up like a cat, snoring gently. I backed out of the bedroom and plonked myself in front of the TV downstairs.

“Night, Dad.” Sarah gave me a hug before vanishing upstairs, clutching her phone. Claire was probably on Snapchat standby, waiting to hear all about next door’s additions. I gave a laissez-faire shrug. My daughter would be lucky to get to sleep before dawn and would spend most of Sunday lounging around like I used to when I was her age.

She’d seemed pretty comfortable after Abby left us at Liam and Nancy’s. She’d even told them about a school project she was working on—the most efficient way to recycle used tires, of all things. While I chatted with Nancy about the neighborhood, I heard Liam ask Sarah tons of questions about her project. Not only was he a good-looking bloke, even I had to admit that, but an intelligent and articulate one, too.

I’d kind of wanted to dislike him. Actually I’d pegged him as a prat when I first saw him in the back of the van. Make that a pretentious prat. The way he’d taken off his jacket and flexed his muscles—he might as well have whipped out his bratwurst to mark his territory. But actually, he was okay. From what I’d seen, he had the makings of a good neighbor. I could even picture having a beer with him, kicking back and playing some pool. And I’d been the reigning champion at university, so at least I’d beat Muscle Man at something.

I stretched out on the sofa, extended my arms and legs as far as I could, then yawned loudly. I had two episodes of my favorite zombie show to catch up on, something best done alone. Sarah had said it was lame, and the undead always freaked Abby out.

Years ago, when we saw 28 Days Later (my pick, her nightmare), Abby had spent the entire time hiding behind a pillow. It surprised me all the more when she’d announced she was going to be tough and suggested World War Z for one of our anniversaries. Not as surprised as she’d been when those zombies looked like they were on speed. I swear she had an entire escape route planned from then on. If there was ever a zombie apocalypse, I’d survive providing I could keep up with Abby. Fat chance. My brains would be their first snack.

After making sure the hero lived to fight another day, I had a brief shower and slipped between the cool sheets. I thought about making love to Abby but remembered her headache, so instead I gently kissed the nape of her neck. When she didn’t stir, sleep came quickly and soundly for me, too.

Early light spilled into our room when I woke up Sunday morning. I groaned, realizing Abby was kneeling between my legs, her bare nipples softly brushing against the inside of my thighs. And I was harder than a cricket bat.

“Shhh,” she whispered when I groaned again. “I want you.”

“Uhhh,” was about all I could manage, and when I thought I was at the point of no return, she stopped, climbed on top and slid me inside her.

“It’s my turn now.” She grabbed my hands and pulled them onto her breasts. I felt her fingers between her legs, rubbing and touching. It drove me crazy. I had no idea if she still had a sore head, and frankly right then I didn’t care.

But she whispered, “Fuck me. Come on, baby, fuck me. Hard.”

God knows how, but some of the blood got diverted from my dick to my face to the point where I felt my cheeks glow like a beacon. Now, I’m no prude, but Abby, well, I didn’t like fucking her. Yes, having sex with my wife was awesome. Better than beer, pool and England winning three World Cups in a row (I imagined). I’d heard some guys got tired of being with the same woman, but Abby still drove me crazy every single time. I’d taken care of her ever since I’d laid eyes on her, and fucking her seemed too...rough, uncaring, somehow.

I thrust a little faster, and she drove herself down onto me, eyes closed, back arched. It was savage; there was no tenderness at all. I felt like I could have been anybody, or that maybe I was surplus to Abby’s requirements. As I wondered even more what the hell she was doing, I almost started to go limp. When she climaxed and collapsed on top of me, I held her as she gasped quietly.

“Did you come, too?” she whispered.

“Of course,” I lied.

She raised her head and looked at me for a second, then slid off me and went to the bathroom. I rolled over and, when she came back a few minutes later, pretended to be asleep.