Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Oh, yes.
My thumbs dip beneath the delicate material and circle her hardening nipples as she gropes behind her for the button on my jeans. “We have all night,” I murmur, and release her before stepping back so that her dress slides down her body and pools at her feet.
A red thong reveals her shapely behind.
“Turn around. I want to see you.”
Heather tosses her hair over her shoulder as she turns and gives me a searing look from beneath her lashes. She has the most magnificent breasts.
I smile. She smiles.
This is going to be fun.
Reaching forward, she grabs the waistband of my jeans and tugs sharply so her glorious tits are once more pressed against my chest. “Kiss me,” she growls, her voice low and demanding. She runs her tongue over her top teeth, and my body responds, my groin tightening.
“Only too happy to oblige, madam.”
I clasp her head, my fingers in her silky hair, and kiss her more roughly this time. She responds, her hands grabbing fistfuls of my hair as our tongues lock. She stops and looks up at me with a salacious glint in her eyes, as if finally seeing me and liking what she sees. Then her lips are once more feverish against mine.
Man, she really wants this.
Nimble fingers find the top button of my jeans, and she pulls. Laughing, I grab her hands and push her gently so we both fall onto the bed.
* * *
Heather. Her name is Heather, and she’s fast asleep beside me. I glance at my bedside clock; it’s 5:15 A.M. She’s a good fuck, no doubt about it. But now I want her gone. How long will I have to lie here listening to the soft sound of her breathing? Perhaps I should have gone to her flat instead, so then I could leave. But my place was nearer—and we were both impatient. As I stare at the ceiling, I mentally run through our evening, trying to remember what, if any, details I’ve learned about her. She works in television—or “telly,” as she calls it—and she has to be at work in the morning, which means she has to leave soon, surely? She lives in Putney. She’s hot. And willing. Yes, very willing. She likes to be on her front during intercourse, she’s quiet when she comes, and she has a talented mouth that knows exactly how to revive a spent man. My cock stirs at the memory, and I contemplate waking her up for more. Her dark hair is fanned out on the pillow, and her expression is serene in sleep. I ignore the pang of envy that her serenity inspires and wonder if I got to know her better, would I find the same peace?
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I want her gone.
You have intimacy issues. Caroline’s nagging voice reverberates through my mind.
Caroline. Shit.
Three whining texts and several missed calls from Caroline have pissed me off. My jeans lie on the floor in a crumpled heap. From the back pocket, I retrieve my phone. Checking on the sleeping form beside me—no, she hasn’t stirred—I read my messages from Caroline.
WHERE RU?
CALL ME!
*POUTING*
What is her problem?
She knows the deal; she’s known me long enough. A quick tumble between the sheets isn’t going to change how I feel about her. I love her…in my own way, but as a friend, a good friend.
I scowl. I haven’t called her. I don’t want to. I don’t know what to say.
Coward. The voice of my conscience whispers. I need to put this right. Above me the shimmers from the Thames bob and weave, free and easy. Taunting me. Reminding me of what I’ve lost.
Freedom.
And what I have now.
Responsibility.
Shit.
Guilt overwhelms me. It’s an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling—Kit has bequeathed everything to me. Everything. And Caroline has nothing from his estate. She’s my brother’s wife. And we fucked. No wonder I feel guilty. And deep down I know she feels it, too. That’s why she left in the middle of the night without waking me, without saying good-bye. If only the girl beside me would do the same.
I quickly type out a text to Caro.
Busy today. You OK?
It’s five in the morning. Caroline will be asleep. I’m safe. I’ll deal with her later today…or tomorrow.
Heather stirs, and her eyelids flitter open.
“Hi.” She gives me a tentative smile. I reciprocate, but her smile fades. “I should go,” she says.
“Go?” Hope swells in my chest. “You don’t have to go.” I manage not to sound disingenuous.
“I do. I have to work, and I don’t think my red dress will cut it in the office.” She sits up, clutching the silk quilt to conceal her curves. “That was…good, Maxim. If I leave my number, will you call me? I’d rather speak on the phone than message on Tinder.”
“Of course,” I lie smoothly. I pull her face to mine and kiss her tenderly. Her smile is bashful. Rising, she wraps the quilt securely around her body and starts to gather her clothes from the floor.