Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
I roll my shoulders, trying to stretch out the kinks from spending much of the evening on a plastic bench in the Chelsea nick. Chelsea police station. Lavender’s accommodations were probably more comfortable than mine, not that it would’ve mattered as she’d spent the evening before her criminal damage spree cozying up with a bucket of top-shelf White Russians. Stupid enough that she got so drunk and behaved so recklessly, but then she’d also hung around to scream obscenities when the police turned up. She’s lucky the girl with the broken window accepted my offer of compensation. Whatever job Lavender ends up with, I can’t see her employers looking well on a criminal conviction.
The police had plonked her in a cell to sober up. Because they couldn’t tell me when she’d be released, and because Polly would freak if the coppers had called her, I waited until they kicked her out. And this is the thanks I get in return.
“Thank you,” she mutters examining her black-painted fingernails as her bottom lip begins to wobble. “I know you think I don’t mean it, but I do.”
I’m saved from answering (thank fuck, because I have no idea what to say) when my phone buzzes with a text. Like a teenager with a crush, my stomach flips. Then like an adult male who had lots of time to dwell on his inappropriate behavior last night, I push the excitement away.
I hope everything went okay with Lavender. Mimi x
This is the second time she’s texted me, but it will be the first time I’ve answered. Because I’m a dick.
She got a caution. They didn’t press charges, and we’re home now. Sorry I didn’t return your text last night. It was hectic.
No sign off. No kiss. No admissions of you’re all I can think of.
As well as a dick, I’m a fucking coward.
I feel like such a shit.
I should at least apologize for the way I left her. For not being there to take her home myself. I might also apologize for my cockblocking sister’s terrible timing.
Or maybe I should look at Lavender’s timing as perfect.
God knows I’d tried to resist her, but in that illicit dark space, I’d caved. I was moments away from dropping to my knees to bury my face in her sweet-smelling heat. My mouth watered as I’d anticipated the slide of my tongue through her soaked slit. I had fully intended on eating her out until her throat became hoarse and her legs weak. Until pleasure coated her thighs, my chin, and cheeks. I would’ve fucked her then, blind to consequences, blind to everything.
Is it relief I’m feeling or is it regret?
By the time I’d finished the call, Mimi had pulled herself together as best as she could. Kiss-swollen lips, wet knickers, and a torn skirt. I was the one leaving, yet she was the one consoling me.
“It’s fine. I’m okay. I get it. Go! Family comes first.”
I’d asked her to wait in the copy room, then ducked into my office, grabbed my jacket, and made a call. She’d looked shaken as I burst back through the door.
“It’s just me,” I’d said, shaking out my jacket for her to slip on.
She’d laughed as she’d slid her arms into the sleeves, and I’d murmured something about her growing into it. She’d turned and I’d pulled on the lapels, bringing her body flush against mine.
“I look silly, right?” She’d looked up at me, her gray eyes suddenly shy.
“You’d look gorgeous in a burlap sack,” I’d replied before pressing a kiss to her head. “Take the executive elevator down to the basement. George, the driver, is waiting to take you home.”
I wanted to squeeze her so tight one last time. In the moments we’d been apart, regular programming had resumed. I think she felt it, too. She’d protested, said there was no need to make a fuss. But there was no way I was letting her take the Tube home. I’d slid my hands into my pockets against the notion of squeezing her tight one last time, then she’d left me in that tiny room.
Fucking her would’ve been the pinnacle of my year. But it would’ve been wrong.
“Are you listening to me?” Lavender’s petulance pierces my unhappy musings.
“Not really,” I admit, putting down my phone and continuing with my email.
“You’re such an arsehole sometimes.”
“Yep. I’m the arsehole who bails you out of scrape after scrape. I’m the arsehole who also keeps vegan fucking yogurts in my fridge.” The arsehole who dropped everything, including the hottest yet most perplexing woman he’s ever encountered to bail his troublesome little sister out of shit again. Despite what they might think, I do like having my siblings around. I just wish they’d have a bit of consideration sometimes.
“They’re nice, the yogurts,” she qualifies. “Thank you for buying them.”