Sensing you (Sensing Series Book 1) Read online

  After two steps, I ploughed into a solid object and landed hard on my arse. I was on the ground with my legs splayed out in front, while my arms were braced behind me, the skin on my palms being sanded down to the flesh beneath.

  "Shit! Are you all right?"

  The gruff bark was alarmingly close. I wanted to scurry away like a crab. I tried to push myself up with my hands, but it was like trying to touch fire. The pain in my backside screamed, ‘GET THE HELL OFF!’

  I rolled over onto my knees and elbows, hearing the unmistakable sound of guffaws coming from my petite, little stalker, as she enjoyed my predicament. Smart arse. Rolling from side to side with her knees curled up to her chest, she was lost in a fit of laughter. A scowl took up residence on my face, and right about then, I realised that I was showing my best side to the obstacle in question. I dared a glance over my shoulder. Yep. From under the brim of his cap, I distinctly saw a mouth twisted to the side trying its damnedest not to smirk.

  "Can I help you up?" The amusement in his voice was obvious.

  I turned my face back to the ground. "No, you’ve done enough.” He’s only trying to help, it’s not his fault. Don’t be a bitch. “Thanks," I added, screwing my nose up at the word.

  "Your hands are bleeding." His big body knelt beside me, engulfing me in his energy. It spun around him like a vortex, beckoning me into its core.

  Whoa. That pushed my red, panic button and the alarms in my head blared. I needed to wipe my palms, and not only because of the blood. The inside of my cheek took the brunt of my anxiety instead.

  "Yup … got that. Thanks, Sherlock. I have tissues in my pocket. You can go." In case you missed the sarcasm, you have been dismissed, mister!

  "You fell really hard. Just let me help you up so I can see if you’re able to walk back to wherever you're going, or if I have to call a cab."

  He sounded like he was trying not laugh. Bastard. I was growling on the inside. Why isn’t he taking the hint? I was pretty sure I'd bruised, if not broken, my tail bone.

  It. Fucking. Hurt.

  The rubberneckers were starting to congregate. I looked up for a second and saw a couple of sweaty, middle-aged men leering at my backside. Their lewd thoughts slithered along my skin like a hundred leeches looking for a meal. I shuddered, and I found myself embracing the stranger’s energy like a shield.

  With a resigned sigh, I nodded my head. He wrapped his hand around my arm, infusing my skin with a feeling of safety, and a wave of anticipation. Like everything was going to be okay if we remained in contact. I'd never felt at peace with anyone, besides my granny. A stranger’s touch usually, triggered a sick feeling in my stomach. As though some of their negative energy had seeped into me, infusing me with their worries and pain.

  I didn’t like the message my body was sending me in response to his touch. He pulled me gently to my feet, but didn't let go of my arm. Annoyed, I tilted my face up to glare at him, and give a curt ‘thank you’. But the retort dissolved on my tongue. Thick, dark, bronze eyebrows were cranked low over grey eyes that bored into me. They completely sucked me in, removing me from the world … removing me from my pain. I wanted to slump in relief, but I was frozen. I never wanted to stop looking at his beautiful face. My eyes flitted around his features. The rusty stubble over freckled skin, shiny with sweat. A scar over one eyebrow, denying space to any hair that might want to take up residence. Pale, pink lips. His top lip was slightly thinner than his bottom lip, with more freckles splattering their surface.

  He gave me a small smile, somehow breaking through the wall I hid behind. I must’ve looked like a stunned guppy fish, standing there with eyes wide, mouth wide, and forgetting that I was trying to shake my arm free.

  You will spend the rest of your life with this man.

  The knowledge hit me from somewhere unknown, imprinting in my long-term memory. Like an ice-filled bath, that realisation snapped me back to a very cold reality.

  Oh, Shit. I'm out of here.

  I yanked my arm out of his grip. "You know what? I think I'll be fine. Thanks for the massive bruise. Bye." My words ran together into an incoherent jumble.

  I turned gingerly and waddled away, wincing not only from the pain, but from my foreboding premonition. Even though I was hobbling away at a snail's pace, he didn't come after me or say anything more. But I felt his concern dragging at me.

  I couldn't help myself. I glanced back and saw him, arms tensed by his side. His mouth was set in a tight line as he frowned, and his eyes were locked on mine. I had no doubt that he felt whatever this was, too.

  Christ! Did the temperature just go up ten degrees? Forget butterflies, that look was like a punch to the gut. I wondered if I'd ever get my breath back.

  Brad

  Fuck, fuck, fuck! I just shirt-fronted the Amazonian Gazelle. That’s one way to make myself memorable, I s’pose. I watched her hobble away. Even limping, she was graceful. And, those legs … those legs were a fucking dream. I wanted them wrapped around me. Dirty bastard. I smacked my hand against the back of my head for allowing my thoughts to sink into the gutter.

  I’d seen her before. She always had her head down when she ran, like she was being chased by the devil. Until today, she’d kept her face hidden behind the hat and glasses. Freed of the barriers, I was struck by the kind of beauty she presented. Eyes almost black, with long thick lashes. Chicks had to stick on falsies if they wanted eyelashes like that. She had an exotic beauty no man could resist. The way her body moved was mesmerizing. Her deep brown, curly hair flowed out through the back of her cap, swinging from side to side as she ran. Yeah, I wanted to see her hair on my pillow, but it was more than that.

  She intrigued me. I’d passed her on the path, as she was mucking around with her earbuds and muttering to herself. Strange behaviour for anyone, I guess. I wanted to know what was going on in that head of hers, as much as I wanted to bury my face in her skin, her hair and in the heaven between her legs.

  Must be time to head home. I was losing my grip on reality.

  Standing in my bathroom, I stripped out of my sweaty clothes, and dumped them in the corner somewhere near the hamper. I adjusted the spray to cold, hoping for lukewarm water, at least. The middle of summer didn’t offer much reprieve from hellfire temperatures. You’d think I’d be used to it since I grew up on The Capricornia Coast. But, today, the heat made me think of sweat and long legs, dark hair, and brown skin. It was no good. She was inside my head. I couldn’t stop my brain from going there. My body couldn’t help but respond to my thoughts. She was beyond gorgeous.

  I couldn’t believe I’d knocked her on her arse. I’d nearly choked when she got up on her elbows and knees, waving it at me.

  I pushed my arousal down until it hurt, needing to punish myself for my lack of control. I was such a sick bastard. She didn’t like me touching her. And why would she? I was no one to her. Well, now I was the guy that probably fractured her tailbone. Awesome. That thought effectively got rid of my boner.

  I squirted some soap onto a washer and roughly dragged it over my skin as further punishment. Doing the same with the towel, before walking back to my room, naked. I purposely avoided looking at the photos on the hallway wall because I was already feeling like shit. I know I should take them down to make it easier on myself, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to torture myself. I made myself look at those photos every morning to remind me of how I’d failed. How I didn’t want to fail again.

  Exactly like I’d just done. Again.

  Bloody pathetic. I had this stupid feeling that I needed to get to know this woman, maybe protect her or some shit. Don’t ask me why, I have no fucking idea. The thought just came to me and embedded itself in my brain. I was crazy for a woman I’d never met, until now. She was the only one that lit my darkness and I didn’t even know her. I doubted she’d want to stop and talk to me in the future … and that thought just made me want to go and have a bottle of bourbon.

  Today was a bad day. I started to lose hope a
gain. Sitting on the edge of my bed with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, I desperately tried to ignore the emptiness of the house. The emptiness of my soul. My thoughts shifted to figuring out how to fill it.

  Adrenaline or alcohol, what’ll it be?

  And the winner was … alcohol.

  Throwing on a singlet and shorts, I headed to the kitchen. The sooner I got to that bourbon, the better. The feel of the burn as I poured it down my throat, and the sweet, dulling of the senses. To get rid of the loneliness, normally I thought of her, focusing on becoming a man worthy of someone like her. Now, I just thought of her limping as fast as she could to get away from me.

  I just fucked up my chances.

  Ronnie

  The relief I felt when I got out of the car, and off my butt, was tremendous. An animalistic keening escaped the confines of my chest as the pinch of pain receded. I knew the bone was broken. I felt the sickening click vibrate up my spine when I sat in the driver’s seat. Luckily, the trip from South Bank to the suburb of West End—where I rented a room—was short.

  The flat was on the fifth floor; exactly halfway up the modern, charcoal coloured, concrete structure. I skipped the stairs and headed for the elevator. My keys jingled as I hastily unlocked the door. The throb of pain in my backside was intensifying. I just wanted to take painkillers, have a shower, and curl up with an ice pack strapped to my rear end.

  Two steps into the wrought iron and glass themed living room, and the smells of leather polish and glass cleaner assaulted my senses, adding a headache to my repertoire of aches and pains.

  “I was hoping you’d forget your way home,” my flatmate, Felicity, snapped from the leather lounge. Her laptop sat open as she read what looked like an online tutorial for one of her law classes. She was following in her daddy’s footsteps.

  Something I hope I never do.

  “I’m good with directions. Sucks to be you, huh?” I left her in the lounge, and limped along to my room.

  Her snide voice followed me. “What happened to you? Did your suicide attempt fail?”

  My shoulders stiffened and my feet faltered a step. The annoyance I felt from the stellar start to my day had just upgraded to downright pissed.

  Without sparing a glance in her direction, I shot out my retort, “I’ve just had the best marathon sex session of my life. If you’re able to walk after sex, then you’re not doing it right.” I looked back at her over my shoulder. Felicity’s mouth was wide open, and disgust twisted wrinkles into her face. “Never mind, Flick. Someone will take pity on you, someday.” Her face paled as her mouth snapped shut.

  I retreated behind my bedroom door, feeling marginally better, and disgusted in myself at the same time. I’d been cruel.

  It was necessary.

  The wonderful smell of lavender assailed my senses. A flimsy wooden door and the smell I grew up with, these were the only two things I found comforting about this room. I missed the feeling of belonging somewhere. Being able to come home, and throw your feet up on the couch because it was yours. Having someone to offload all your crap to, because you knew they’d return the favour. That person had always been my granny.

  When she broke her hip a couple of years ago, she felt it was time to move into a retirement unit, where nurses were available at the push of a buzzer. I knew I couldn’t look after her, and still keep a full-time job. And I needed to work to help pay the bills. It was the best thing for her, but it was the beginning of a spiral of shit for me. I didn’t want to be selfish or needy, but I was devastated to lose my home. Being separated from my only family caused a fault line in my foundations that I didn’t know how to patch.

  I thought this room was the answer to my prayers. A bargain price for quality accommodations. She’d probably had to drop the price due to the bitch factor.

  The sunlight filtered in through the window above my queen-sized bed, reflecting off the almost white walls. Moving to the bedside table, I took a couple of painkillers, and switched on my lava lamp. I found them so mesmerizing. And Flicker hated it, so I loved it.

  Placing my gear on the chest of drawers, I reached into one of the drawers to grab some underwear. My hands paused before finding their prize. Things had moved. She’d been through my things again. My eyebrows slammed down. What the fuck was she looking for among my knickers and bras? Drugs? Money? Incriminating evidence? It wasn’t as if she could borrow my clothes, she’s half my height and twice my girth. I hated living like this. I couldn’t trust her to leave my stuff alone. If I thought seeing dead people was going to send me off the deep end, I clearly didn’t account for this single, white female.

  I grabbed what I needed, and headed down the hallway to the bathroom. The skin on my back prickled with the force of daggers that flew from Flick’s eyes. I really needed those painkillers to kick in. Ten minutes and I could be out the door again to get some breakfast before work. No way was I going to use the kitchen with her staring me down.

  In the shower, I hung my head and let the warm water help soothe the pain as the medicine did its thing. I let out a deep sigh into the towel, before I turned my back to the mirror, twisting around so I could inspect the damage. A big purple bruise had started to form on my tail bone. It looked like I wouldn’t be sitting down much today.

  I dried myself quickly, and dressed for work. With sore hands and no time, I didn’t bother with hair or make-up. Instead, I made sure I’d packed up everything. I didn’t want to get comfortable here, or give her an excuse to complain about my stuff cluttering up her space. I was like a ghost. Ironic. Nobody knew I lived here, unless they looked in my cupboards.

  With my arms loaded, I opened the door, jerking at the sight of Felicity waiting like a lioness about to pounce. My towel slipped off my shoulder, falling to the floor.

  "I hope you're going to pick that up," she spat at me.

  I cleared my throat to refrain from swearing at her. "What is it, Flick?"

  "Don't call me that, it's so juvenile."

  Yeah, it suits you.

  I bent down to get my towel, gaining an eye full of fake toenails. Ugh. Standing back up to face the wrath pouring off her, I quirked my eyebrow, waiting for the tirade.

  Her baby-blue eyes narrowed at my insolence. She had the ‘unimpressed face’ down pat. It was a shame she didn’t realise how it twisted her pretty features. She took a big breath, and crossed her arms over her designer blouse. "I'm having a party for all my friends tonight. You’re not invited. Don't bother coming back after work." With a satisfied smirk, she turned on her heel and walked back to her laptop, toe nails clicking on the tiles.

  Un-fucking-believable. The pounding in my head returned, amplified. This was becoming a weekly occurrence. I wasn’t allowed in my own home. Because it wasn’t really my home. It was just a place to crash. I just knew I would be coming back to a toilet and sink filled with vomit, and I'd probably have to burn my sheets.

  Good times. Good times.

  I pulled up to the driveway of Granny's retirement unit, just as Errol, her neighbour from two doors down, wrestled with the security door, while trying to balance himself against his walking frame. Over his shoulder, a frail looking lady in a nightie wore a look of disgust on her face. As if Errol had just done the unthinkable, and taken a dump in the rose bushes.

  I moved to his side. "Good evening, Errol. How are you?" He spun his head around, stopping abruptly before his eyes reached mine, wincing in pain.

  "Argh! Put my neck out, damn it."

  The lady in the nightie shoved her finger towards his face. "Serves you right, you old coot!"

  Ooh, she was ropable.

  I ignored her. "Oh no, you poor thing. Here, let me help you get the door shut and I'll walk you back home." I tried soothing him, knowing full well that he hadn’t been leaving, but was trying to get into the unit. I could see Granny peering through the crack in the curtains.

  "I was just coming to visit your sweet grandma, hoping to get a slice of her famous cheeseca
ke, but she didn't answer the door."

  The old woman grew even more agitated after that statement. "She won't answer the door if she knows what's good for her. You always did think you were 'in-like-Flynn' there, didn't you, Errol? You should be ashamed of the way you carry on like the milkman!" She shook her fists in anger as she delivered her verbal spray.

  I peeled Errol’s gnarled hand from the door handle, and gently wrapped it around his walker. "I think she’s at her reading group tonight. She asked if I could get some supplies and drop them off for her." The lie tripped off my tongue, unheeded. Luckily, I had a bag of groceries in my hand. I brought something every time I came because I visited so often, but he didn't need to know that.

  I turned him around and headed back to his unit, glancing over my shoulder to throw a wink at Granny. Deep lines bracketed her mouth as she focused on the old woman. I recognised her now as Mrs. McGuffey, from the unit next door between Errol's and Granny's. She didn’t look healthy, at all. I looked back at Granny. Lowering her eyes, she gently shook her head.

  Oh.

  Errol made it safely back to his unit, regardless of the continuing tirade from the spectre of Mrs. McGuffey. I left them to it, and let myself into Granny's place. Her L shaped unit was miniscule. She sat at the small dining table against the wall between the kitchenette and the lounge room. “Thank you, my darling. That man is unstoppable. The ageing process forgot to notify his libido.”

  I placed the bags on the floor, and gave her a hug and a kiss on her weathered cheek. "He has good taste, at least.” Patting Granny’s shoulder, I turned towards the fridge. “When did it happen?"

  I put the groceries away, knowing she was shaken, but understanding that she wouldn’t want me fussing. Continuing with the mundane chore while she expressed her sadness was a distraction for her … and me. A reminder that life continued. We’d been through this several times now. I was terrified that she would be next. The carton of milk sloshed and banged loudly against the shelf, as it slipped from my shaking hand. I remained hidden behind the fridge door, trying to pedal back the panic as she answered my question.