WILD CHILD

By

Shelley Munro

 

 

© copyright September 2006, Shelley Munro

Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright September 2006

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

 

 

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

 

 

Chapter One

Matt Cantrell frowned when he pushed open the front door to his Gold Coast beachside house. He was certain he’d locked it before he left for work. Positive. But it wasn’t locked now. Adrenaline rising, he reached around the corner and flicked on a light, glancing around the wide spaces of the open plan room. The trail of feminine apparel littering the tiled floor erased the lines from his forehead. Marisa had apparently recovered from her sulk at him for having to work late and cancel their date. A slow, satisfied grin curled his lips as he shut the door. Maybe showing her where he kept the spare key hadn’t been a mistake. A bout of hot sex was just the thing he needed to unwind.

He took half a step toward the bedroom, pausing to scoop up a shoe. When he fingered the flimsy leather straps, his smile turned feral. Damn, he’d thought he was in for months of empty-bed syndrome. With his current workload, he didn’t have time to find a replacement. He picked up the shoe’s mate and set them down, out of the way. The hair scrunchy came as a bit of a surprise. Marisa didn’t like to wear her hair loose and always wore it up in a fussy style he wasn’t game to touch. He registered the bright jewel colors of the scrunchy next, and a soft whistle broke the silence. The visit was definitely impulsive. His cock pulled tight in pure anticipation and an appreciative grin bloomed. Impulse wasn’t normally Marisa either, but he was happy to go with the flow.

The phone rang. He detoured to grab it up impatiently, his gaze on his bedroom door.

“Matt Cantrell.” He toed off his shoes and juggled the phone while he bent to yank off his socks.

“Matthew, thank goodness you’re home.” His mother’s anxious voice poured down the line.

Alarm bells clanged. Matthew straightened in concern. The time difference between New Zealand and Australia meant it was late in Auckland. Too late for his mother to ring. “Mum? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Matthew. It’s Zoë. She’s gone!”

“Gone where?” he asked, his breath easing out in relief. A storm in a teacup. Zoë was always testing parental boundaries. This time wouldn’t be any different. He shook his head, thinking about his feisty sister. Stepsister, actually, since they weren’t related in any way. They’d become a blended family when his mother and her father had fallen in love and married. Not that he’d spent much time with his new stepsister since he’d already left home when Zoë and her father came on the scene. Prior to his mother’s remarriage, he’d started work at a large accounting firm in central Auckland and had already moved into a flat with three of his friends.

“We don’t know. We haven’t seen her since the day before yesterday,” his mother wailed.

“She’ll come round,” he said, wondering how soon he could join Marisa in his king-size bed. He didn’t want to think about Zoë. Hell, he tried not to think about her. The eight-year gap was a big one despite his sister’s maturity. Stepsister, his mind reminded him tartly. They weren’t related. “She’s probably staying with university friends.”

His mother sighed. “That’s what we argued about. She’s dropped out. Says she doesn’t want to be a teacher any more. And she’s running with a wild crowd. I’m sure she’s sleeping with one of them. She came home with bruises all over her neck.”

Hickeys? Matt’s hand gripped the phone so hard his knuckles whitened. He’d moved across the Tasman Sea to avoid temptation--the siren lure cast by Zoë. He snorted inwardly. And the joke was she had no idea. He cleared his throat. “What do you want me to do?”

“I wondered if you’d heard from her.”

“Not since Christmas. She told me off because I couldn’t make it home.”

His mother laughed--a forced laugh, but at least she sounded more in control. “She was furious with you. She sulked for days.”

“Which makes it unlikely I’d hear from her,” he said in an even tone, ignoring the fact that she had filled his thoughts every day since.

“I know, but it was worth a try. Matt, I’m so worried. Since Christmas, she’s been acting very strangely. Ring me if you hear from her.”

“Sure, Mum. Don’t worry. She’s an adult. You have to let her make her own decisions. Her own mistakes.” Shit, he didn’t want to think of her. And definitely not as an adult. Thoughts of adults led to thinking of the things they did. Together. Hell, he’d thought he was over this thing for her. A hickey for God’s sake. A hickey implied more togetherness than he was comfortable knowing about her love life.

“Matt? Are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m working long hours.” A yawn punctuated his statement.

“Go to bed, dear.”

“Good idea,” he said, relaxing a little at the idea of Marisa waiting for him. Naked. Warm, willing feminine flesh. Maybe he could hold his fatigue at bay for long enough to enjoy Marisa.

After promising to contact them if Zoë rang, he hung up. He rotated one shoulder, aware of the tension inside, and groaned, a low, pained sound. He’d wanted Zoë in a sexual way since the day of her nineteenth birthday. Like a bolt of lightning, it had hit him without warning, bringing confusion and guilt. The feeling was just as strong three years later. And still forbidden.

A sea between them wasn’t helping. Perhaps he’d try London. Maybe an ocean or two would do the trick.

Matt stared at a silky black top. He picked it up and rubbed the sumptuous material between his fingers. Suddenly, his tiredness dropped away. He loosened his tie and tugged it off, draping it over the back of a cream leather chair along with Marisa’s top. Nimble fingers undid the buttons on his pale blue business shirt. The shirt joined the top and tie. He slipped into his bedroom.

The room was in total darkness, the whisper of breathing the only audible noise. Matt smiled. After stripping his trousers and boxer shorts off and placing them beside the bed, he tugged back the covers and crawled into bed. Marisa was lying on her side, facing away from him. He slid closer, smoothing his hand across her shoulder. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her bare back. She smelled of flowers--carnations to be exact. Nice. Different from Marisa’s usual spicy perfume. He liked this one much better.

When he nuzzled behind her ear, she stirred with a sleepy sigh. Smiling, he pressed a kiss to the smooth skin and stroked his hand down her arm and across her hip. She murmured again, starting to rouse.