Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 135799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
I ride the escalator down to the ladies’ department in Harrods. After my doctor’s appointment this afternoon I’ve decided to have a little retail therapy before I go home.
My phone rings, the name Elliot lights up the screen, and I smile broadly. “Hello.”
“How did my girl go at the doctor’s?” Thankfully he didn’t come.
“Good.”
“What did he say?”
“Not a lot that I didn’t know.” I begin to walk through the racks of women’s clothes as I talk.
“Such as?”
“You really want all the gory details, Mr. Miles?”
“No, I’m asking as a dare, what do you fucking think?”
I smile, I love that he cares. “Basically, I have to go in for surgery at some point soon for an endometriosis clean-up, but other than that I’m doing everything right.”
“Well . . . what kind of surgery, is it dangerous?”
“No, I’ve had it a few times before. Keyhole.”
“Oh, okay.” I can hear the relief in his voice. “What about the pain?”
“It’s normal. I’m fine, El, you don’t need to worry.”
“Well . . . I do.”
I smile and look up. Over in the lingerie department I see a familiar figure, and pause on the spot. Navy suit, ramrod-straight back, phone to his ear. He picks up a two-piece black lace bra and G-string set and eyes it, then he puts it back and riffles through the sizes and then throws one over his arm. “Where are you?” I ask.
“Running errands.”
I duck behind a column and smile as I watch him. Completely focused on his task, he moves on to white, silk nightdresses and flicks through the rack.
“What kind of errands?”
“I’m at the post office,” he lies.
“Don’t you have a personal secretary for that?”
“This parcel is of a personal nature,” he replies casually as he walks through the rows of expensive lingerie.
“Did you order me a big dildo?”
His face breaks into a breathtaking smile and I feel it all the way to my toes. “Most definitely not.”
“Why not?” I tease.
He picks up a pretty pink camisole. “If you think I’m sharing your orgasms with a battery-operated device, you’re deluded, Kathryn.”
“Maybe I need more,” I tease.
He stops mid-step, and a slow, sexy smile crosses his face; he likes this game. “We haven’t even begun your training yet, angel,” he whispers darkly.
“Training?”
“We can start tonight, if you like?” He throws a camisole over his arm.
I bite my lip to stifle my smile; I like this game too. “Why haven’t we begun yet?”
“I’ve been on my best behavior so far; my depraved tastes aren’t for everyone and I need your trust before we start. I didn’t want to scare you off before we get there.”
I frown, what’s he talking about? I trawl my brain for a logical answer.
Anal . . . oh fuck.
“If I haven’t run away yet, El . . .” I whisper as I act brave. I’ve never done anything anal before and he knows it. “The more I get to know you, the more I want you.”
His face softens and butterflies flutter in my stomach.
Watching his face light up as he speaks to me really is something, as if my heart isn’t already freefalling out of my chest.
“Well, Miss Landon.” He stops walking. “The feeling is completely mutual.” His voice is soft, cajoling. So different to the voice that used to bellow at me.
I smile as I watch him. “I should let you go.”
“Okay, sweetheart, I’ll pick you up about seven?”
“Can’t wait. See you then.”
He holds his phone to his ear and pauses as if waiting to hear something, and I do the same as I watch him.
There are unspoken words between us.
And I know we’re not there yet, but this . . . whatever this is, feels a lot like—or at least the beginning of—love.
“Bye El,” I whisper.
“Goodbye.” I watch as he hangs up and stuffs his phone into his expensive suit pocket. He continues to shop and, for a long time, I stand and watch him.
Elliot Miles, walking through a lingerie section, shopping . . . for me.
I smile—or maybe it’s for him.
Either way, it’s fucking perfect.
Just on seven I watch the headlights of the black Bentley come around the corner. He’s here.
I grab my bag and bounce down the stairs. Rebecca and Daniel aren’t home; it seems like I’ve hardly seen them in the last few weeks. I’ve spent nearly every night with Elliot since we started seeing each other and I know I really should be playing hard to get or something, but what’s the point? I want to see him and I’m sick of games.
And he seems pretty set on seeing me too.
I make my way out of the front door and Elliot climbs out of the back of the car, looks up and sees me, and breaks into a breathtaking smile.
Oh . . . that smile.
I feel myself swoon as I cross the road toward him. “Hello,” he says as he leans down and kisses me softly.