All They Need

chapter ELEVEN



THREE DAYS LATER, Mel plugged in the final string of fairy lights and stepped back to assess the effect. She gave a nod of satisfaction.

“Not too bad, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah, not too shabby,” her brother agreed.

They’d been working since daybreak to transform their parents’ yard for the big occasion. Thanks to their labors, fairy lights now hung from every conceivable anchor point—the eaves, the side of the freshly painted garage, along the fence—and pots full of flowering annuals had been borrowed from Mel’s garden and placed in strategic locations to cover various domestic uglies like the tap and the grease trap. Assorted outdoor chairs were placed in conversational groupings, and the caterers had set up a long trestle table beneath the covered patio. Later, guests would help themselves to a selection of salads as well as roast lamb and beef, both of which were currently being spit-roasted on a rotisserie located in front of the garage, sending delicious aromas across the backyard.

“I’m going home to get ready before Mom spots us standing around,” Harry said, already fishing in his pocket for his car keys.

“Good point.”

Officially the party didn’t start for another hour, but her mother’s sister, Lydia, was notorious for being early, and the neighbors would probably drift over sooner rather than later. Unless Mel wanted to be caught in her dirty track pants and equally dirty sweater, she needed to make a quick exit while she could.

“Two-minute warning, here comes Mom now,” Harry said. He ducked down the side of the house just as their mother exited the sliding door to the patio.

“Mel. Thank God. The light’s blown on the front porch. Can you believe the timing? Your father’s in the shower. Would you mind?”

Mel held out a hand for the lightbulb her mother was already carrying and followed her through the house to the front door.

“I’m still not sure if we’ve got enough wine. Do you think I should send Harry out for more champagne? And ice. Do we have enough ice?” her mother asked.

Mel handed her the blown bulb before placing her hands on her mother’s shoulders.

“Mom. Calm down. You have enough drink to keep the Australian cricket team happy, and we have ice up the yoo-hoo. Why don’t you get ready, then sit down and put your feet up for a few minutes and have a glass of wine?”

“I’m not sure. I wanted to make sure the caterers know where to set up the bar. And—”

Mel gave her mother’s shoulders a little shake. “Quit it with the excuses. Go get ready. I’ll tell the caterers where to put the bar on my way out, okay?”

Her mother looked relieved. “All right. If you insist.”

“I do, crazy lady. Now go make yourself beautiful, and I’ll see you in half an hour or so.”

Mel waited till her mother had disappeared up the hallway to her bedroom before ducking outside to have a quick word with the caterer. Then she escaped before her mother came up with another task for her to do.

She headed straight for the shower when she got home. Standing under the warm water, she allowed herself to think about Flynn again.

She’d been rationing herself, not allowing herself to think too much about him and build too much into the fact that she was going to see him again. It was enough that he was going to be there and that he wanted to be there. Anything else she was going to have to deal with on the fly, because no amount of thinking and double thinking and analyzing was going to change the fact that the future was yet to be written.

She’d laid her clothes out on the bed before she left that morning and she sprayed on perfume before slipping into a matching bra-and-panties set and reaching for her dress. Even though her parents had hired a number of outdoor heaters to try to take the chill off, she’d chosen a fine-knit red wool wrap dress for the party, as well as her black knee-high boots. Both went well with the black coat she’d be wearing. She sat on the bed to roll on stay-up stockings, then she zipped her boots and went to fix her hair. She pulled it into the laziest of updos, pinning it into a loose bun with stray curls around her face. She spent five minutes on her makeup before adding a pair of dangling jet earrings and matching necklace to her ensemble. She walked into the bedroom to check her reflection.

She looked good. And really, really nervous.

She collected her coat from the hall closet, locked the house and drove to her parents’. The street was beginning to fill with cars and she was forced to park near the corner and walk. She shrugged into her coat as she walked, her high-heeled boots clicking on the pavement. The front door was open and she could hear music and voices inside, a sure sign that the party had well and truly started.

She let herself in and started looking for her mother to check there were no last-minute emergencies she needed help with before things really fired up. Mel’s progress was slow as she stopped to greet and exchange quick catch-ups with various relatives and family friends. She’d scored a glass of champagne from a roving waiter by the time she made it to the patio, where she finally found her mother.

Dressed in painted-on black trousers and a jade-green silk jacket with a plunging neckline that was only made decent by a black lace camisole, her mother was lit up like a Christmas tree, a glass of champagne in one hand as she held court with her friends. Mel took one look at her and decided she was fine, making a bee-line for where she could see Harry and Justine standing near the garage.

“Mom’s on fire already,” she said as she arrived.

“Tell me about it. Someone needs to remind her to go easy on the champagne,” Justine said.

“Why? It’s her night. If she wants to get snookered and stagger around a little, she should be allowed to,” Harry said, raising his own beer to his mouth.

His gaze was glued to the petite blond waitress who was circulating with a tray of hors d’oeuvres. Mel couldn’t decide if it was because he was hungry or trying to pick up, and she decided she didn’t want to know. Harry’s love life was hair-raising at the best of times.

Justine’s gaze slid over Mel’s shoulder and a peculiar expression—half surprise, half smug—came over her face. “Look at that. He came.”

Mel knew who her sister was talking about, even though she hadn’t realized Justine had been privy to her mother’s sneaky invitation.

Slowly she turned, her gaze scanning the crowd in search of a tall, handsome, blue-eyed man.

Everything inside her went very still as she found him. He was talking to her father on the patio, a small smile on his mouth. For long moments the world seemed to recede, leaving her with the rush of blood through her veins and the thud-thud of her heartbeat as she ate him up with her eyes.

He was wearing a midthigh-length black wool coat, designer jeans, a black sweater and a red-and-black plaid scarf and he looked dark and expensive and stylish and far too handsome. As though he could feel her regard, Flynn glanced up from his conversation with her father and their eyes met across the crowded yard. His mouth curved into a slow smile and he lifted a hand in greeting. Despite everything, a bubble of unalloyed happiness rose inside her.

A few seconds later, he made his excuses to her dad and began weaving his way to her. Mel checked the side tie on her dress and tweaked her skirt self-consciously, wishing she had a mirror to check her makeup.

“Don’t worry, your lippy’s on straight,” Justine said quietly. “You look great.”

Mel forced her hands back by her sides. “We’re just friends.”

She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince.

“And I’m a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Just promise me one thing, okay? Be careful.”

Mel looked into her sister’s eyes, registering the warning she saw there, and the concern. “I will. I am.”

“Good.”



They both pasted on smiles as Flynn slid past the last group blocking his way.

“You poor bastard. I suppose Mom roped you into coming?” Harry said, shaking his head.

“No rope required,” Flynn said, his gaze sliding to Mel. “You look great.”

“Thanks.” She stepped forward, feeling incredibly bold, and put her hand on his shoulder. Then she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

He was watching her very intently as she withdrew and she had a sudden, hot flash of how it had felt when he’d kissed her last weekend. The way he’d held her. The way he’d tasted. She became aware that her sister and brother were watching them with knowing expressions and she gave herself a mental shake.

“Have you got a drink? Let’s get you a drink,” she said, taking Flynn’s elbow and guiding him away from her siblings. “Beer or wine?”

“A beer would be great, thanks.”

They joined the crowd at the impromptu bar and she gave him a small, nervous smile. “Bit busy. Won’t be a tick.”

“There’s no rush. Your mom looks like she’s ready for a big night.”

“Oh, she is. This will be one for the record books if she’s got any say in the matter.”

Someone jostled her from behind and she was forced to step closer to him.

“How are your parents?” she asked.

“They’re good, thanks. It’s been a good week.”

She could smell his aftershave and she fought the need to lean closer and inhale a big, greedy lungful of the stuff.



“It’s good to see you,” she said before she could stop herself.

His eyes were warm as they looked into hers. “It’s good to see you, too, Mel.”

Her aunt and uncle approached before she could say more and she found herself introducing them to Flynn. Then one of her father’s work colleagues came over to ask if Flynn was the owner of the vintage Aston Martin her father had worked on, and the next thing she knew two hours had slipped by effortlessly as she watched Flynn win over her extended family.

He gave everyone he was introduced to his sincere and undivided attention, asking questions and making jokes and generally being too damned charming. He talked politics with her very left-wing cousin, Jack, for nearly half an hour and managed to leave him laughing despite the fact that they hadn’t agreed on a single issue. He discussed home preserves with her elderly aunt, herb gardens with her mother’s next-door neighbor and the property market with Jacob and Justine. When they ran out of seating at dinnertime, he perched on the rim of one of the built-in brick planters along the edge of the patio alongside her and Harry and made appreciative noises about the tenderness of the meat. He went back to the dessert table twice, insisting that Mel at least try the chocolate-mint mousse that had him so enthralled.

After dinner, Mel excused herself to go to the bathroom and fix her lipstick. When she exited the house to rejoin the party, she saw that Flynn had moved from their perch on the planter boxes. She scanned the crowd and finally found him talking with Eddy and Rex, hunkered down so that he was on the same level with them. His head was cocked, his expression open and engaged as Rex relayed a story that, based on his hand gestures, seemed to involve lots of big explosions.

Watching Flynn give his all to her nephews, something sharp and painful tightened in her chest.

He was such a good man. Hardworking, genuine, kind, funny. What he was doing for his parents was plain old-fashioned noble, although she knew he would reject the label vehemently if she shared it with him because he was also modest and unassuming. By some miracle he managed to combine all of the above with a quiet confidence that drew people to him as naturally as the moon drew the tide.

In short, he was a special man.

And he wanted her. Not just for sex, either. He liked her. She liked him, too. She liked him in a crazy way. She liked him so much that even acknowledging it in the privacy of her own mind made her palms sweaty with anxiety.

She hadn’t intended to feel this way about a man again. Certainly not so soon. But Flynn was here, and unless she was grossly misreading his signals, he wasn’t going anywhere soon. Which meant that this yearning, almost painful feeling in her chest wasn’t going to go away anytime soon, either.

Suddenly she felt overwhelmed by all the noise and chatter of the party. Picking her way through the crowd, she reached the side gate and slipped through to the front yard. She walked down the driveway and stood on the sidewalk, arms crossed over her chest as she looked out at the darkened street.

The sounds of the party ebbed and flowed behind her. She squeezed herself tightly and reminded herself that once upon a time she’d been brave. She could do this. She could.



She heard the gate open, then the sound of footsteps on the driveway. She didn’t need to turn around to see who it was, but she did, anyway.

Flynn’s face was half shadow, half light, his eyes unreadable as he approached.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said.

Then, because she was afraid she’d lose her courage and because she’d been aching to touch him again ever since she’d stopped, she closed the distance between them. Three steps, then her breasts were brushing his chest as she angled her head and pressed a kiss to his lips. He responded minimally, almost warily, and she moved closer still, curling a hand behind his neck and licking the seam of his mouth. She could feel how tense he was and after a few seconds he pulled his head back.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and ragged.

“Yes.” She reached for him again, but he was already reaching for her. His lips found hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. One hand slid around her waist, the other cupped her backside, hauling her close. She went willingly, wantonly.

He backed her against the side fence and pinned her there with his hips while he slid a hand inside the warmth of her coat, his mouth never leaving hers. Her nipples were already hard but she gasped her encouragement as his hand slid onto her right breast, his thumb gliding over her nipple. She could feel how hard he was, his erection a solid ridge against her belly, and she slid a hand onto the front of his jeans, gripping him through the denim. He pressed himself against her hand, his own tightening on her breast.



“Mel,” he said against her mouth.

“Yo. You guys. Mom and Dad are about to start the speeches. Quit playing tonsil hockey and get your asses in here.”

It was Harry, calling from the front porch. Flynn lifted his head but didn’t release her. It took her a moment to catch her breath enough to respond.

“We’re coming,” she finally called back.

“Way too much information,” Harry said before disappearing into the house.

She could feel Flynn’s body trembling with suppressed laughter. She rested her forehead on his shoulder.

“Don’t. You’ll only encourage him.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple before taking a step backward. The loss of his body heat was like a blow.

“Come on. Let’s go listen to the speeches,” he said, holding out his hand to her.

She took it and let him draw her away from the fence, aware of a profound sense of disappointment and frustration. Which was nuts—it wasn’t as though they could have made love against the fence in her parents’ yard. They would have had to stop at some point.

Flynn opened the side gate and they entered the fray. Everyone was crowded around the patio for the speeches and they found a spot near the corner of the garage that offered them a decent view. Over the next twenty minutes, her parents milked their moment in the limelight for all they were worth. Flynn kept a hold of her hand, his thumb occasionally brushing her wrist in the smallest of caresses. She glanced at him from time to time to see if he was laughing at the same joke she was or to gauge his reaction to something her mother or father had said, and every time she found herself getting lost in his gaze.

And she knew, absolutely, that she would not be going home alone tonight.



IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT when Flynn followed Mel’s car home, parking in the street while she turned into the drive and disappeared around the back of the house to park in her carport. He locked up the Aston and made his way to the front door.

He jiggled his car keys as he waited for Mel to let him in. No point lying to himself—he was nervous. A fairly galling admission for a man in his thirty-fourth year. It wasn’t as though he was a babe in the woods as far as making love to a woman went, after all.

But this wasn’t just any woman he was about to sleep with.

The chink-chink of his car keys bouncing in his hand sounded loud in the still night air. He tensed as he heard Mel’s footsteps approaching from inside the house.

Don’t blow this. Okay? Just…don’t. Take it slow, let her take the lead, take all your cues from her.

The door opened, revealing Mel in the golden glow of the hall light.

“Sorry. I dropped my keys on the back porch and do you think I could find them? Turned out they fell inside one of my gum boots. What are the odds?”

She was nervous, possibly even more nervous than he was, and suddenly all of his own uncertainty took a backseat. Before she could say another word, he stepped forward and kissed her. There was a fraction of a moment’s hesitation, and then she was kissing him back, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.



She tasted like chocolate and red wine and he went from being partially to painfully erect in no second flat.

So much for taking it easy.

He kicked the door shut before backing her against the wall. Holding her there with his body, he slid his hands inside her coat. He skimmed one hand down her rib cage to her hip, savoring the voluptuous curve, before sliding it onto her backside. His other hand cupped the fullness of her left breast. She made a small, wordless approving noise as he teased her nipple, her hips flexing against his.

They rocked their hips together as her nipple peaked beneath his hand, hard and eager. Impatient to touch her properly, he pulled the crossover bodice of her dress below her breast and tugged her bra cup down. Warm, silken skin filled his palm and he groaned into her mouth.

She felt so good. Hot and smooth and soft and firm…

He broke their kiss. Desperate to see her, he glanced down. Her breast was pale in his hand, the nipple rosy pink, the deep burgundy of her bra framing the whole.

“Mel,” he whispered brokenly, lifting worshipful eyes to her face.

She was beautiful, and so sexy he could barely breathe.

She fisted her hand in his jacket, pulling him close. She kissed him, hard and hot and fast.

“Bedroom,” she said, when they came up for air again.

“Great idea.”

She strode ahead of him, already shrugging out of her coat. He followed suit, dropping his jacket in the hallway, his scarf in the doorway, kicking his shoes off as he entered her bedroom.

She flicked on a bedside light and reached for the side tie on her dress. One deft tug and it came free. He’d started pulling his sweater over his head but he froze as her dress fell open, revealing her body in all its glory. Those breasts, those hips, those legs…

Her panties matched her bra, her stockings were stay-ups with lacy tops and her knee-high boots tipped him firmly over into fantasy territory.

Any pretense at self-control went out the window as he moved toward her. They fell onto the bed together, him on top, her legs spreading to accept his body into the cradle of her thighs. He kissed her neck and her chest, then dragged her bra cup down with his teeth and pulled a nipple into his mouth. She gasped and arched into him, her hands sliding down to grip his backside. Lifting her hips, she ground herself against his erection in a sinuous, knowing rhythm.

He slid his free hand onto her stomach, feeling the excited, expectant jump of her belly muscles beneath his fingers as he began to move south. His fingers found the edge of her panties and he traced the lace with his forefinger. Back and forth, back and forth, all the while sucking on her nipple, biting it, soothing it, loving the way she trembled and breathed and shook beneath him.

He slipped a finger beneath the waistband of her panties, delving until he felt the silken brush of hair against his fingers. She lifted her hips in wordless encouragement and he completed the journey, his fingers sliding into wet heat. She shuddered beneath him, spreading her legs wider as he explored her delicate folds with his fingers.



He was so hard it hurt, and when her hands slid to the stud on his jeans and started tearing them open he tilted his hips to the side to provide easier access. He shoved her bra out of the way and shifted his attentions to her other breast as she gained entrance to his jeans. He groaned low in his throat as she gripped him, stroking her hand up and down his shaft. It felt so good he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation.

“Take these off,” she panted, pushing at his jeans with her free hand. “I want to see you.”

He rolled to the side and made short work of his jeans and socks before stripping his sweater and T-shirt over his head. He was aware of Mel shedding the last of her clothes, too, and when they rolled toward each other again they were naked.

She took charge, pressing his shoulders onto the mattress as she slid a long leg over his hips. She straddled him, staring down at him with smoky gray eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her breasts aroused, her nipples wet from his mouth. She reached for his erection and rolled her hips, rubbing herself against him. He covered her breasts with his hands, squeezing her nipples, plucking at them. She smoothed her free hand across his belly and chest, her eyes half-closed as she watched him watch her.

She was primal and utterly feminine and he needed to be inside her. Now.

“Back pocket of my jeans,” he said, barely able to string two words together.

She leaned across him to her bedside drawer instead. He took advantage of the situation to tongue her breasts, holding her to him long after she’d found what she was looking for. She shuddered and writhed against him as he suckled her deeply.



“Flynn,” she finally gasped.

He released her, letting her rock back onto his hips. A small smile played around her lips as she tore open the foil square in her hands and removed the condom. He watched through slitted eyes as she smoothed the latex onto him with confident, sure hands. Then she rose above him, gripping him in her hand as she sank onto his erection.

She was tight and hot and he almost disgraced himself. Almost. She made a small, needy sound and started to move. He gripped her hips and watched as she bit her lip and closed her eyes and got lost in the sensation rising inside her. When she started to pant and lose her own rhythm, he lifted his hips off the bed and rolled her over, quickly reversing their positions. She stared up at him, her gray eyes pleading with him. He kissed her as he pushed inside her.

“It’s okay, Mel, we’ll get there,” he murmured against her lips.

Then he set himself to the task of proving it to her.



MEL CLOSED HER EYES and bit her lip to stifle a moan as Flynn moved deeply inside her. His mouth was on her breasts, his big, powerful body pressing hers into the mattress, and she was so close, so close…

Inexplicably, his pace slowed, his thrusts becoming more leisurely. She opened her eyes to find him watching her, an earthy, heated knowledge in his eyes. He shifted his attention to her other nipple as his hand slid between their bodies to where she needed him the most. He found her with his thumb and began to tease her with small, gentle circles, the rhythm echoing his leisurely strokes inside her body. Everything in her wanted to come, wanted to strain toward coming, but the message Flynn was sending her with his body was that there was no rush.

No need to strain. No need to race anyone to the finish line.

Joint by joint, muscle by muscle, she allowed herself to relax. Allowed herself to fall into the long, sensuous stroking of his body within hers, allowed herself to revel in the slow, spreading pleasure building between her thighs. She gave herself over utterly to the experience, moaning and twisting beneath him as the need took her, running her hands up and down his big, beautiful body, languishing in his deep, thorough kisses, relishing the way he supped at her breasts, licking and sucking and biting.

And then, suddenly, she was arching off the bed, her climax rolling over her in a huge, pulsating wave, Flynn deep inside her as she cried out his name and forgot to breathe for long, long seconds.

She felt him shudder, felt the hot gust of his breath against her shoulder as he gasped out his own climax. Her fingers gripped his backside as he tensed inside her…and finally relaxed into dead weight, his head dropping onto her shoulder.

She closed her eyes, the better to appreciate the utter satisfaction pulsing through her body. He was still inside her, and she could feel his heart pounding. She ran her hands along his body in a slow, relaxed exploration, smoothing over the muscular planes of his back, shaping his rounded buttocks, discovering the backs of his thighs. After a few minutes he stirred and lifted his weight off her chest. She opened her eyes to find him watching her, a small smile on his lips.

“How you doin’?” he asked.

“I’m doin’ okay.”



“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

His smile broadened into a grin. She punched him lightly on the arm. “Okay, now you’re getting dangerously close to smug territory.”

“You know, I think I’m willing to risk it.”

He kissed her, his lips gentle. When he lifted his head again there was no mistaking the tenderness in his eyes. He withdrew from her and she watched as he left the bed to dispose of the condom. His backside was solid muscle and she watched the bounce of his butt cheeks with shameless appreciation. When he exited the en suite she was treated to a full frontal and it was all she could do to suppress an admiring sigh.

He had a beautiful body—well proportioned, muscular but not overly so, with long, powerful thighs, a hard, flat belly and the exact right amount of chest hair.

She’d assumed he was going to get straight back beneath the covers, but instead he stopped by the foot of the bed and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Seen enough?” he asked cheekily.

Busted.

She laughed. Couldn’t help herself. “Are you accusing me of ogling you?”

“Yes, ma’am, I am.”

He bent and scooped up his abandoned scarf, looping it around his neck. Then he strutted toward her in perfect imitation of a catwalk model, all haughty looks and cheekbones and pout, gorgeously, undeniably, utterly naked bar the scarf arranged jauntily around his neck. When he reached the bedside table, he did a sharp turn and strutted in the opposite direction, working it for all he was worth.

He should have looked ridiculous, but he didn’t. He looked spectacular. Gorgeous. Too cute for words. She didn’t know whether to laugh, applaud or drag him back into bed, so she settled for grabbing hold of the scarf when he made his second pass by the bed.

“Stop being a tease,” she said, using the scarf to reel him in.

“You’re the one doing the teasing, making promises with your eyes like that,” he said as he climbed onto the bed.

Excitement kicked inside her as he drew back the covers and pressed his body over hers again. She could feel him growing hard against her thighs and answering heat surged through her belly.

“It’s only teasing if you don’t follow through,” she said.

“That’s an excellent point.”

She slid a hand between their bodies to capture his growing erection. “Actually, I think you’ll find this is an excellent point.”

He laughed, the sound loud and uninhibited. “I stand corrected.”

He lowered his head and started to kiss and lick and suck her neck, even as one of his hands began a slow, sensual glide down her body. She let her head fall to one side, savoring the slide of skin on skin, the feel of him beneath her hand, the wet velvet of his tongue on her neck.

Had she known, deep inside, that it would be like this with him? Was that why it had been so hard to make herself be sensible where he was concerned?

She let go of thought as instinct took over. Right at this moment, nothing else mattered except the need and the want and the desire burning between them. Everything else—the world, the future, the past—could wait.