I find a spare blanket in the top of the closet, and along with the sofa bed, it’s enough to make a passably comfortable place to stay the night. We settle into our respective places, and Casey turns off the lights by the bed, leaving us in the darkness.
“Goodnight, Edward,” she says, already sounding sleepy.
“Night,” I tell her, smiling to myself. Before long, I’ll be hearing that from her every night, in the bed that we share. She’s going to be mine – for the rest of my life. And I can’t wait to start.
Tomorrow will be more special than she could imagine – it has to be. There’s a lot at stake. And I won’t risk losing her now.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Casey
I wake up, and for a moment I think it must have all been a wonderful dream. Then I look across the room and see Edward, just buttoning up the cuffs on his shirt, and I realize it wasn’t a dream at all. It was real.
He looks freshly showered, his hair towel dried, and I could swear his shirt looks brand new even though he didn’t bring anything with him.
“Morning, princess,” he says, a knowing smile on his lips.
“How long have you been awake for?” I ask, scrambling to flatten down my hair and brush my fingers through any tangles that may have appeared while I was sleeping.
“Since dawn,” Edward chuckles. “Old habits die hard. Even if I’m not working today, my body still thinks I must be.”
“Oh, wow.” I sneak a glance at the clock by the bed, it’s past ten in the morning. “I’m so sorry. You should have woken me.”
Edward shakes his head. “You looked peaceful. Besides, it’s not your fault I’m an early riser. I had some things to take care of this morning, to make sure everything is set up, and now I’m all yours.”
I smile shyly at him. “Do you mind waiting just a little longer, for me to shower and get ready?”
From the way Edward’s eyes rake over me, I know he’s enjoying the implications of the word ‘shower.’ “Of course,” he says. “Take your time. We have a relaxed day ahead.”
I rush into the bathroom to shower and dress as quickly as I can. No matter what he says, I don’t want to waste a single minute. I only have a week here until I have to go home, and half of that is gone already – and every moment with Edward is precious.
Plus, the quicker we do whatever he has planned, the quicker we can get back here and have some fun.
I can’t help but wish I’d packed something a bit sexier – jeans and t-shirts are great for exploring the city, but not so much for seducing your Dad’s old best friend. Not that I seem to need to do much more in that area – he’s already promised me tonight, and last night was amazing.
I emerge ready to go and take Edward’s arm, as I’m now used to, locking up the room and heading down to the lobby together. For a moment I worry about being seen together – I’ve only paid for a single occupancy room – but then I relax. After all, Edward can take care of it if we get into any problems. And it would be worth it, to have him with me all night.
The short, and by now habitual, taxi ride takes us into the very center of London to Oxford Street, a place I’ve only ever heard about until now. It’s a wide street populated on both sides with shops from high street brands to the bigger names, superstores with thousands of garments to choose from, and amazing independent places I’ve never heard of. From there we go to Regent Street, and down to Liberty, the iconic store that offers designer clothing, homewares, and everything you could imagine – all wrapped up in a beautiful old building that was once a haunt of Oscar Wilde.
Through the whole experience, Edward keeps telling me that I can have anything I want. My eyes pop open wide at some of the price tags, but he tells me not to look at them – to just decide whether I want something based on how it looks and how it makes me feel. Even so, I don’t pick out a thing – and I can sense Edward is getting frustrated as we head up to another floor in Liberty.
“I just want you to have anything you want,” he says. “You don’t have to be shy about it. Really. Anything you want, I’ll get it for you.”
I feel my face flush. It’s not that I’m not grateful – I am – but I find it hard to accept this kind of gift. I don’t want him to spend too much on me. And besides, however much I may love the idea of buying a gorgeous designer dress from a top fashion house, I doubt they would have anything that might fit me – and I don’t want to go through the embarrassment.
“I just haven’t seen anything I really want yet,” I tell him, but I can see that he’s not convinced.
We come to a floor full of womenswear, and even simply walking around the rooms, displayed around a central railing that looks down through the floors below past a magnificent hanging sculpture, is awe-inspiring. All of these beautifully detailed gowns and shirts and knitwear pieces hanging on the racks, with name cards hanging above them of the most famous designers. I hardly dare to touch them, but I look at everything with wide eyes. So, this is how the rich live.
“Will you be alright looking around here on your own for a minute?” Edward asks me, out of the blue. He has a distracted look on his face. “I want to go talk to someone – the man who does my personal styling whenever I’m here. I’ll be back from the menswear floor in a moment.”
“Alright,” I say, not wanting to hold him back – even if I will feel a bit more awkward wandering around on my own.
I don’t have to wait too long, as it happens. I’m exploring a room filled with one-off vintage pieces when Edward reappears – and behind him a tall, willowy woman with clear eyes, clear skin that shines as if polished, and beautifully cut hair. She looks like a model, and given where we are, I can’t help but expect that she is.
“Casey,” Edward says. “This is Mara. She’s a personal stylist here, too.”
I look at Mara with a moment of confusion before it starts to become clear. “That’s why you went to talk to your stylist?”
“I wanted a recommendation,” he says with a smile.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Casey,” Mara says, her words toned with an English accent. “I’d like to help you pick out a new outfit. Why don’t we talk about the kind of things you like to wear?”
I try to fight down the embarrassment and awkwardness, but I feel my cheeks heating up. “Oh, I don’t know… I didn’t think you would have anything that fits me.”
I don’t dare look at Edward to see his reaction, but Mara only smiles. “Actually, we have a lot of sizing options for many of our collections. Our customers don’t all wear a size six.”
“Oh,” I say, taken aback. “Then… I suppose I would like to get a new dress.”
“No expense spared,” Edward puts in quickly. “Don’t even tell her the prices, Mara. I’m picking up the bill.”
After those words, everything seems to go by in a blur. Mara asks me quick-fire questions about what I like, how I feel the most comfortable, the colors I normally wear, even what kind of occasions I might be wearing the dress to. Then she hurries me off to a dressing room while she picks out dress after dress for me to slip into, cooing and praising me whenever I emerge. At last, I think I’ve found the one, a shimmery blue fabric teased into a Greek-style robe, hanging around my body in flattering drapes from a central halter that is encrusted with beads. It looks classic and timeless – which has to be a good choice if this is the only designer piece I can ever afford to own.
I walk out of the changing room area to find Edward, sitting in a chair and flicking through something on his phone. He looks up when I come out, and his eyes go wide.
“Yes,” he says, immediately.
“Yes?” I ask, giggling a little. I feel giddy. It must be the Liberty experience.
“Buy it right now,” he says. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”
I grin and twirl for him, letting the fabric fan out around me for a moment. “I take it you approve, then?”
“Casey,” Edward tells me evenly. “Go and get changed so we can bu
y that dress, before I ravage you right here in the middle of the store.”
I squeal with laughter and rush back to the changing rooms, doing as I’m told. I don’t need to hear it from him twice – this day is getting better and better already.
When we emerge from Liberty with a pretty purple bag slung over Edward’s arm – since he insists on carrying it for me – I feel as bright inside as the sunny day that awaits us. We stroll a little longer through the colorful Carnaby Street area, before Edward suggests we head somewhere else.
I follow along, sensing the air of mystery, not asking him where we’re going. I have the feeling that he’ll just give me a vague answer or tell me to wait and see, and I’ve started to realize that it’s better to let Edward surprise me – because his surprises are always worth it.
“Here we are,” he says, checking his watch as we walk towards the famous Browns. “Just in time for afternoon tea.”
My hand flies to cover my mouth, and I try to hold back a shout of delight. Afternoon tea at Browns’ was one of the key highlight experiences I heard about when I researched my trip to London – something that is recommended for everyone to do. And Edward organized it without telling me, even though you have to book in advance. He probably had to pull some serious strings to get us in this quickly.
We’re seated quickly at a table in the grand downstairs dining area, and then served with a pot of tea and a circular-shaped metal tray with several thin tiers. On each of them are more delights, tiny sandwiches cut into fingers, miniature cakes and brownies of several different shapes and flavors, and gorgeous scones with jam and cream to spread on top. Each bite is delicious, and the iconic setting makes it even more exciting.
Finally, when there are only crumbs left, I look at Edward with total satisfaction and a smile. “What’s next?” I ask.
“Next, I thought I might take you home.”
“Home?” I frown. “My flight’s not until the end of the week.”
Edward laughs. “Not your home. My home.”
“Oh!” I take this in, slowly thinking about it. Of course, just because I’ve been staying in a hotel, Edward wouldn’t be – he lives here all the time. I just never really considered where he was going when he left me on that first evening. And then it strikes me that going to his home is an intimate step – it means seeing another side of him, the private side that only friends and family have access to, and it means going to the place where his bedroom is. “Oh, right.”
It’s Edward’s turn to frown at my reaction. “You don’t want to?”
“No, I do,” I tell him quickly. “I just… I suppose I’m a little nervous.”
Edward reaches across the table to take hold of my hand. “You don’t need to be nervous. I’ll take care of you.”
I look into his eyes. “I know,” I say, because it’s true. He will. I trust him – and I know that whatever happens next, it will be the best experience it could possibly be, because I will be with him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Edward
Casey seems a little quiet in the taxi ride back to my home. I reach for her hand and hold it, between us on the back seat, hoping that I can give her some measure of comfort that will help to soothe her nerves. I understand her being nervous, of course – this is all new to her. But I hope that she can trust me to treat her well and make her feel good.
My own heartbeat increases in pace as we get closer to my house. I have barely been able to restrain myself these past two days, and the thought of finally getting to claim Casey is almost too much to bear. I want to have her, right here in the taxi – but I can wait a little longer. I have to make sure she enjoys every moment of this.
We get out of the taxi in front of my home in Notting Hill. I bought it when I moved here, perhaps optimistically though I’ve never met a woman who could fulfil my dreams until now, I purchased a home big enough for a family, grand and furnished with all of the latest accessories. There’s a small garden behind it, five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a huge kitchen where I can see myself gathering one day with a family. Or at least, I can now – because while I could never quite fully imagine it before, now I can easily picture Casey as my wife, doting on our children.
“This is your home?” Casey asks, looking up at it from the sidewalk.
“Yes,” I tell her, taking my keys out of my pocket as the taxi speeds away. “Come inside.”
“But… you live here alone?” Casey asks.
I laugh at the look on her face. “So far, yes. I’ve been waiting to find the right person to share it with. I know it’s too big for one person, but I had hope that one day I would be able to fill it.”
We step inside and I enjoy watching Casey, all of this is what I’m used to, the things I see every day, but it’s new to her. Her reaction reminds me of how I felt when I first toured the property.
She turns in a circle in the entrance hall, admiring the tiled pattern on the floor, the wide staircase reaching upwards, the light flooding in from the large windows. In the lounge she runs her hands over the back of the couch admiringly; she pauses in front of the painting I have in my study. When she’s seen everything downstairs, including looking out of the windows at the garden, I take her by the hand and lead her upstairs – to the reason I brought her here instead of going back to the hotel.
“This is the master bathroom,” I tell her with a grin, after leading her past the bed and built-in double wardrobes. I let her step in front of me to take it in, the white marble tiles, the rainforest shower with a wide space blocked in by clear glass, and the jacuzzi bathtub beside it.
I put my hands on her shoulders from behind, leaning close to murmur into her ear. “Would you like to take a bath?”
Casey nods silently, her eyes not moving from the tub, and I smile to myself. This day is going to be just as special as I had hoped.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Casey
Mood music fills the room from nowhere, as well as a wonderful scent of flowers and honey as the tub begins to fill with water. Jets pour out from four directions, as Edward – still behind me – carefully eases me out of my clothes, pulling my t-shirt over my head, my jeans down to my ankles, and then my bra and panties until I’m again naked in front of him.
Just like before, it doesn’t feel awkward or embarrassing to be bare in front of him. I feel the adoration he has for my body, the way he runs his hands over me carefully like I’m something precious, and I only feel a sense of peace and worth.
Edward holds out his hand and takes mine, supporting me as I climb into the warm water, feeling the jets against my skin before the tub finishes filling and they fade to a gentle bubble.
“Aren’t you joining me?” I ask.
“Just let me worship you,” Edward says, his voice low and husky, and it makes my breath catch in my throat.
I watch as he takes off his jacket and then rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, before opening a cupboard by the jacuzzi and taking out a soft sponge. He dips it into the water in front of me and then squeezes it out carefully, before reaching for my hand. I can only watch, entranced, as he begins to rub the soapy sponge over my hand, cleaning between my fingers, the soft trace of the material over my skin almost tickling me.
Edward continues to wash up my forearm in slow circling motions, paying attention to every inch of my skin. The glide of the sponge is a light massage across my muscles, as he works his way along my upper arm to my shoulder. There he lingers for longer, working the muscles and easing any last remaining traces of tension out of me, making me feel so relaxed and calm.
The gently bubbling water, the scent in the air, and the music combine to form a kind of paradise moment as Edward moves the sponge over to my left arm, starting from my fingers and moving to my shoulder like before. I can’t ever remember feeling as relaxed or as cherished as this.
Edward moves the sponge to my chest, washing across my collarbones, and just when I think he will begin to wash and massage my breasts, hi
s touch disappears. I open eyes that I hadn’t realized I had closed to see him fishing in the water, before he brings up my right foot out of the bubbles and begins to soap it down. All the way up my leg he moves in careful circles, making me catch my breath as he moves up my inner thigh. I want him to touch me, but he just teases me before moving to my left leg, working everything over again.
He leans in to kiss me, a sweet and lingering kiss on the mouth, while his hands move under the water to glide over my stomach. The edge of his sleeves are wet now, but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind. I close my eyes again in bliss, letting my other senses carry me away as he soaps me down.
Then, at last, I feel his touch on my breasts. I lift my chest towards him instinctively, wanting more, but he maintains that smooth pace, washing each of my breasts in turn with concentric circles that eventually culminate in my nipples, to which he gives special attention. I gasp and moan as he teases them, making them stand on end so sharply it almost hurts, sending a deep and throbbing need to the pit of my stomach.
His hands dip lower then, lower and lower still, until the sponge is between my legs, carefully and slowly circling until it brushes over the nerves that are already on fire with my need. I gasp and cling onto his arm, desperate in case he decides to pull away and tease me again. I want his touch. I need it.
Edward eases into a soft and gentle rhythm, the sponge moving back and forth across my most sensitive parts, making my lips throb and swell with arousal and need. I throw my head back and moan out loud. This is nothing like the other night, when he pushed me to a fever pitch with fast licks and flicks. It’s soft and measured, more intimate and loving, and it brings me to the edge just the same.
“I don’t think I can hold off any longer,” Edward murmurs. I open my eyes and see that his face is tight with need, his eyes hooded with desire. It makes my knees feel weak as I look at him. “I want to take you.”
London With Dad's Best Friend: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 198) Page 5