No Strings Attached

Chapter One

On that first morning, she had woken up particularly early with a raging thirst and, after much deliberation – almost 45 minutes of biting her lip with anxiety – she decided to creep downstairs for a glass of water.

In her own home, it was inexcusable to leave your bedroom in the middle of the night – so much so that her father would pocket a key at bedtime, and unlock it at what he considered a reasonable time.

There was an en suite off the side of her bedroom, he’d always pointed out - she shouldn’t have any need to be released from the confines of her bedroom during a time that was meant for sleep.

Recently that particular key had left her particularly vulnerable to another dimension of his cruelty, and he’d not only been using it to keep her inside her bedroom, but also to let himself into it whenever he saw fit.

But Tori didn’t have an en suite in her bedroom, and there wasn’t anything to use to get a drink anyway, so surely it would be okay if she quietly crept down the stairs to the kitchen? If she was really quiet, and washed up after herself, they might never even know.

She managed to get down the stairs, and into the kitchen, without a single sound. Still trembling slightly, she pulled a glass from the cupboard. Looking wistfully over at the water dispenser on the fridge, she went to the tap.

That chilled stuff was meant for family, not for guests.

She filled the glass and, drank it in one gulp, wincing at the slightly warm taste of it. Taps over here tended to need to run a little before they were cold, especially on a warm day like today, but her father threw her into the wall the last time he had caught her wasting water, so she was incredibly conscious of it now, not wanting to disappoint the Caseys after they had been so good to her.

“Hey Shannon, I never knew anyone was down here – you’re quiet as a mouse.”

 She’d not heard the footsteps behind her, or the kitchen door swing closed, so the croaky male voice startled her, and she shrieked in alarm – dropping the tumbler into a loud smash against the kitchen floor.

“Maybe not,” he chuckled lightly, a twinkle in his grey eyes, until she began sobbing out an apology, and dropping to her knees to clean up the mess with her bare hands.

“Hey, Shannon, no!” he appealed, watching the glass splinters breaking through her flesh – small drops of blood forming all over her delicate hands. He advanced towards her, carefully avoiding the mess in his own bare feet, “Shannon, watch your hands!”

Pulling out the dustpan and brush from the cupboard underneath the sink, he laid one hand on her bare shoulder where her pyjama shirt had fallen away in the chaos, and crouched down next to her.

That one touch sent a single shimmer of electricity straight down her spinal cord – just enough to still her frantic movements – and she slowly met his gun metal grey eyes.

She’d always had a problem with physical space, having never really known a kind touch. Even with Tori and her mother, who were very tactile people, she retained an element of distance that they must have registered at the periphery of their consciousness, because they never stepped across that line with her deliberately, they never pushed her for more than she was willing to give.

But Nate had breached it.

And his physical proximity now was causing her heart to hammer against her chest so hard that she was sure he must have heard it. His broad chest was bare, and his old tracksuit bottoms hung low on his narrow hips, so that his entire chiselled six pack was exposed to her greedy eyes, causing frissons of delicate arousal to slowly twinge in her stomach.

Her body became her own suddenly, as she felt the connection between them string together in the air. For that one moment, there was the two of them in the whole world, and her flesh was not just ... there. It was alive, sparkling underneath the surface.

At eighteen, Nate had an impressive physique, and a maturity to his features that completely set him apart from other guys his own age.

His face had not entirely lost its childish round features though, so that it was open and honest, and not quite the dark and dangerous sensual expression that it was today.

“Your hands,” he said softly, watching her eyes dance across his face nervously – not quite trusting the unfamiliar sensual response he was pulling from beneath her skin, “Can I see them?”

Reluctantly she held them out to him, her fingers gently trembling.

“Fuck, Shannon,” he whispered, “What have you done to yourself?” Wiping an almost dry tear from her cheek, he stood up, “Come on, we’ll get you cleaned up. There’s bound to be some glass in there.”

“But uh ...” Her voice was choked, nervous, as she remembered the mess around them, “What if someone finds this? We need to clean it up, won’t they be mad?”

“Its fine,” he said softly, his dark winged brows dropping into a slight frown, “It’s just a glass, Shannon.”

“But ...” her eyes were glued to the floor as she rose to her feet, “What if ...”

“Hey! Stop fussing, it’s just a glass, happens all the time here! Caleb breaks like ten every day,” he chuckled lightly, putting one arm around her shoulder he pulled her in against his chest.

Anxiously she pressed her hand into him – at first to push him away – but his heart skipped a beat under her fingers and she raised her doe-like eyes up to his, questions raining through her mind behind them. 

Did he feel that too? That little spark of lightning?

He stilled beneath her touch, his eyes darting between her hand on his skin, and her beautiful eyes.

One long moment passed ... and then another ... until she hurriedly tried to pull her hand back into safe territory.

“No,” he whispered urgently, catching her fingers and pressing them back into his pale skin, “I ... uh ... that was ...”

He looked as though he couldn’t remember what he had been about to say.

Smoothing the long dark waves away from her face, he gently cupped her chin in the palm of his hands. Holding her gaze with his own until the very last second as though asking for permission, he touched his lips against the corner of her own, and slowly, with whisper soft touches, he’d kissed her.