Page 9 of Easy
I wonder what services are included in his fee. . .
No, I don’t. And I’m not wondering how much of an expert he is in the bedroom. Not even a little bit.
As I reach the entryway table, I shoot a quick glance over my shoulder, something warm blooming in the pit of my stomach at the hot look he shoots my way.
‘Were you seriously looking at my ass?’ The words are out of my mouth without thought.
‘No,’ he answers, meeting my gaze. Feet planted wide, he folds his arms across his chest, angling his head to the side. If I’d felt even the smallest pang of disappointment, it melted with his next words. ‘I was looking at the back of your neck, wondering what you’d taste like. And what kind of noises you’d make if I licked and sucked my way from—’
I don’t get to hear his imagined start point and, more importantly, his destination as I fumble with my purse. It falls to the floor, the contents scattering all over the lurid reds of the oriental rug. It’s ridiculous enough that his smooth words elicit such a physical reaction from me—all the throbs and tingles—but they also render me a klutz.
‘Fuck!’ My eyes fall closed as I mutter the harsh curse.
‘Planning on a lot of that this evening, were you?’
The contents. Of my. Purse.
Money, the strange English stuff. Emergency credit card. Lip gloss. Two condoms; one just in case, and one just because. And three morebecause I’m fucking delusional!
‘They aren’t for you,’ I mutter icily, dropping to my knees to gather the fragments of my dignity. I really am on a roll as I imagine he mutters a strained utterance ofside boobbefore, in four long strides, he’s crouched next to me, handing me my things.
‘I bet you were a Girl Guide,’ he murmurs, offering me the last of my condoms like they’re cookies.
‘Girl Scout,’ I correct as he takes one of my hands gently in his.
‘My sister was a Brownie. She had this motto to learn.’ His words are all velvety as he turns my hand palm up. ‘A sort of ethos, I think.’
‘Oh?’ I purse my lips, not liking the delivery of that one shaky word.
‘Yes.’ His gaze drops from my eyes to my mouth, and my lips begin to tingle like this touch is a physical thing. ‘Always put others first.’ He folds the condom into my hand by curling my fingers over it. ‘I promise you this evening, whatever your plans, you’ll come first.’
The heat in his gaze causes a wave of want between my legs, but the spell is broken by thedingof my phone.
‘The cab,’ I state unnecessarily.
In one fluid movement, he stands. ‘I take it we have a party to go to?’ he says, holding out his hand this time.
I nod but don’t speak. I don’t trust myself. I also don’t take his hand for the very same reason.
Wordlessly, we make our way to the door, Sir Lancelot trotting to follow.
‘Bed,’ Will commands as I reach for the door handle. Is it wrong that I almost turn and head that way? ‘Wait,’ he says in the same tone, and it takes me a moment to realise the first command was for the dog, the second for me.
I turn my head as he takes my hand in his. He’s so close that the heat of his body feels like it’s burning me from behind.
‘Let me get the door.’ His breath is minty, and his cologne heavenly.
‘I’m capable of opening it myself,’ I murmur.
‘Manners,’ his voice rumbles. ‘What kind of man doesn’t ensure a lady both comes and goes first?’
I’m not touching the nuances in that question. The phrasing must be an English thing.
Once downstairs, the cab is nowhere to be found. The mansion block is gated, overlooking a row of private parking bays filled with expensive cars, and a strip of manicured lawn beyond. I step out onto the road to see if the cab is waiting outside the electric gates. No such luck.
Fuck.
‘He’s gone.’ I scramble with my purse, pulling out my phone and dropping the invitation in the process. ‘I’ll call another.’
