of months ago that I’d be spending my Friday nights in Mac Logan’s garden wearing a green tea face mask and having barbecues with him, Freya, and Tilly, I’d have told you that you were completely mental. Yet here we all sit, like proper grown-ups celebrating another end of a grueling workweek.
It’s a welcome change of pace from the office, which was tense to say the least. Ever since that call from Zander Williams’ mother, I’ve been avoiding Vaughn Harris like the plague. I know I can’t tell him anything. I’m legally bound not to. But to kill a contract that’s right in the middle of negotiations for an incoming footballer is well above my pay grade. He’s supposed to be signing soon to come in a few months, which means I don’t have much time to figure this out.
The biggest issue I see right now is the fact that I’m certain Vaughn Harris would want to know he has a son. I realise there are loads of monsters out there who couldn’t give a toss about illegitimate offspring. My own past is a prime example of that. But that’s not Vaughn. Sure, he made some mistakes as a single father after his wife died, but he’s dedicated two decades of his life trying to make up for those missteps. And he’s doing a wonderful job, from what I can tell.
However, this isn’t my decision to make, so until I can get Jane Williams to phone me back to discuss this matter, it’s best to avoid any interactions with the Harris family.
Thankfully, forgetting about work is monumentally easier with Tilly Logan in my life. She is the most welcome distraction of all time. Not having to hide our relationship these past couple of weeks has felt like a strange dream that I never want to wake up from.
The night of our intense talk with Mac and Freya, Freya insisted I stay for dinner. She said that Mac needed to see me and Tilly interact properly, or he’d never get used to the idea of us being together. It felt a bit weird because I’m used to Mac only making animal noises at me, but he turned out to be somewhat friendly. He offered me a beer and asked if I wanted to try out his new video game that he helped design.
It only got awkward when he brought up the subject of my underpants.
“So, you’re a boxer’s man.” Mac takes a long sip of his beer and sets his controller down to look at me. “I would have bet money on you being a briefs bloke for sure.”
I clear my throat and shift on the sofa, feeling Tilly’s watchful eyes on us from the kitchen. “I like room to breathe.”
Mac nods slowly. “Me too, lad. Me too.” He claps my shoulder firmly and adds, “Remember that if you ever spend the night here. Got it?”
Which was code for, I don’t care if you’re in love with my sister, if you shag her under my roof, I’ll fucking kill you.
But Tilly refused to go back to my place that night. She said she’d waited weeks to have me in her bed, so despite my protests, she dragged me upstairs while I nervously peered over my shoulder at Mac, who glowered at us the entire way up.
For the first twenty minutes in her bed, I was firm on the fact that we weren’t having sex out of respect for Mac and Freya. And because their bedroom was right below ours.
But fuck me, Tilly can be very persuasive, so when she started nudging her arse into my cock and rolling back to show me how hard her nipples were…I knew I was done for.
Bloody hell, I’m weak.
And the image of Tilly muffling her cries of passion with her pillow as I took her from behind and rocked slowly inside her so I wouldn’t creak the bed is an image still making me rock hard two full weeks later.
After that, we both agreed it was best to sleep over at my place. We really only separated when we had to work. She was with Freya during the day working on the final details for her Harrods deal, and I was doing my avoidance act at Bethnal Green F.C. When we meet back up at my place in the evenings, I can’t get her naked fast enough.
It’s safe to say we christened every surface of my flat. Tilly said we’ve been going at it more