Mr. Knightsbridge

by Louise Bay

  Spent.

  Floating.

  Exhausted but so fucking happy.

  Her body sprawled half on mine, and the rise and fall of her rib cage had me mesmerized.

  Had sex ever been so all-consuming? So intense?

  She made to roll away from me and I circled my arms around her waist, shifted and pulled her toward me so we were spooning. She smelled good, like vanilla and flowers. Sliding her hand back, she grasped my thigh, as if she wanted to actively hold me, like it wasn’t enough for me to be holding her. It was as if she couldn’t take without giving at the same time.

  “That was . . .” She paused but I wasn’t going to make a suggestion to end her sentence. “What would you say that was?” she asked, and I tried to push down the belly laugh she elicited.

  “Sex?” I suggested.

  “What kind of sex?” she asked. “Like, normal first-time sex?”

  “You want me to mark it out of ten?” I didn’t think she’d object if it confirmed what she suspected—that nothing about that had been normal first-time sex.

  She elbowed me in the ribs. “I just . . . that wasn’t normal first-time sex for me,” she confessed. “Not normal anytime sex.”

  My chest expanded at the thought that I’d been able to fuck her properly for the first time. But perhaps I was looking at this wrong; perhaps she was fucking me properly for the first time.

  “We’re still doing the sex,” I replied. “It’s not finished yet.” I leaned across the bed with one hand and grabbed another condom.

  I’d gotten hard again almost immediately. No, nothing about tonight was normal first-time sex.

  “I’m not going to have time to make the pie,” she said as I slid into her.

  “You want my dick or the pie?” I thrust into her again, and she placed my hands on her breasts.

  “Is it wrong to want both?” she asked, twisting her hips.

  I picked up my pace. “So greedy.” Truth was, I was the greedy one. I just couldn’t get enough of her.

  After too short a time, our orgasms collided and we lay tangled and sweaty, breaths choppy, limbs heavy.

  She shifted and I pulled her closer. I wanted to keep her beside me, entwined with me. I didn’t want her going anywhere.

  “I need to use the restroom,” she said.

  Reluctantly, I released my grip and watched as she didn’t even attempt to cover up as she strode to the loo. Fuck, I liked everything about this woman. “Hey, Gabriel’s having a birthday party on Saturday. Want to come?”

  No answer.

  Maybe it was too much too soon—meeting the friends.

  “Who’s Gabriel?”

  I turned and found her leaning, completely naked, on the door jamb. Her hair hung over her shoulders, almost covering up the perfectly sharp nipples that managed to jut out from beneath the treacle-colored hair.

  “You’re beautiful,” I said, tucking my hands under my head.

  “You too. Who’s Gabriel? One of your pack?”

  “Yeah. The best looking one of us if you ask me.”

  Her lips curled into a grin as she approached the bed. “Where do you rank? Because if you’re not the best looking one, I can’t wait to meet Gabriel.”

  I grabbed her and pulled her on top of me. “Sorry to disappoint. He’s married.” Separated, technically, but he wasn’t dating.

  She sighed melodramatically. “Darn,” she said as she pressed a kiss against my cheek. Rearranging herself, she sat astride me. “You want to go to a party together?” she asked. “I thought we agreed that this was just between us. I was serious when I said I didn’t want anyone at work to find out.”

  “No one from work will be there. Come on. It will be fun. It’s a fancy-dress party. I get to channel my inner geek, which I’m sure you’ll take every opportunity to exploit. And if you’re with me, I don’t have to wonder about what you’re doing.”

  She reached over me, her breasts pressing against my torso, and I slid my hands down her back to her arse. When she straightened up, she presented me with condom from the bedside table.

  “Make me come again and I’ll go with you.”

  I chuckled. “You’re bargaining with me?”

  She scrunched up her nose. “Am I?” She shrugged. “I don’t think so. I think no matter what, you’re going to make me come again, given—” She slid her pussy down my cock and gasped. “Given past experience. And as for your party, I’m not sure I’m capable of saying no to you.”

  “Fuck, Hollie.” A couple of weeks ago, I’d never laid eyes on this woman. How was that even possible? The things she was saying, the way she was making me feel. Whenever I was with her, it was as if the concept of time was different. Just during the course of this evening, it was as if months had gone by and she knew me in a way few others did.

  I ripped open the condom, slid it on and then reached for the base of my cock, ready to have her sit on me.

  She lifted up and slid her hands down her thighs, throwing her head back as she lowered herself onto me. I was wrong—we might be floating in space, but this wasn’t a black hole we were nearing. We were lying firmly in heaven.

  I deliberately never looked forward when I was in a relationship with a woman. I operated in the present—I liked her. The sex was good—that’s all I needed to know. But with Hollie, I couldn’t help but think of what was next—the way I was going to cook her eggs tomorrow morning, the party on Saturday, the fact that I was certain another few weeks wasn’t going to be enough with this woman.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked as she sat still, my cock inside of her.

  “How much I like you sitting on my dick,” I replied.

  She laughed and pressed her palms onto my chest, the shift creating a wave of pleasure. “Well, I like sitting on your dick, so I guess we’re the perfect pair.”

  I dug my fingertips into her arse and pulled her deep onto me. She swiveled her hips as we both groaned. “I guess we are,” I said. “Oh, and no, I’ve never had sex this spectacular either.”

  She rolled her lips back, trying to fight a grin. “Lay off the fondue,” she said. It wasn’t a line. Suddenly she paused. “You got to promise me something?”

  “Anything,” I replied without even thinking about it.

  “I know this is just . . . I’m not in London long and you’re . . . Well you’re you and I’m just some girl from Nowhere, Oregon—”

  The six thousand miles between where we’d each built our lives was an obstacle to a future together, but where exactly she’d come from was completely immaterial “Hey, Hollie—you’re you and I’m me. I don’t care if you live in a castle or—”

  She placed her fingers over my lips. “All I’m saying is, don’t say things you don’t mean. Don’t make promises you won’t keep, and don’t pretend to be anything you’re not. Let’s just enjoy these weeks together.”

  It was an easy deal to agree to. Except weeks didn’t seem long enough. Even now.

  Fourteen

  Dexter

  I pulled up my collar against the biting wind and out of the corner of my eye, saw the familiar blue-green of Hollie’s eyes. I turned my head to see a scarf in the window of Hermes, stretched as if it were a canvas in a museum.

  As I stepped closer, I could see the colors were a swirl of feathers, each one a different shade of blue or green doing its best to block out the black image of a panther hiding beneath. Hollie would love this. The colors were her completely—the blue and green would bring out her eyes and her black hair echoed the big cat. The combination of soft and fierce would suit her too.

  I pulled out my phone to take a picture, to show Primrose how the colors worked together and how the flat image managed to produce a sense of movement. She could take inspiration from this for the collection that we’d begin work on after the competition was over.

  I took a snap on my phone and shoved it back in my pocket.

  Yeah, it would really suit Hollie. I could imagine it bunched ar
ound her neck or draped over her naked body.

  I checked my watch. I had ten minutes before I was to meet Beck and Stella for lunch. I headed inside the shop and it took less than half that time to purchase the scarf. The assistant folded it intricately then covered it with ribbons, tissue and a box.

  With my orange gift bag, I headed south onto Piccadilly, which is when the realization of what I’d done hit me full force. A Hermes scarf wasn’t the same as picking up the bill for dinner. A gift like this was a big deal, wasn’t it? And Hollie and I had made a deal—not to make promises I wouldn’t keep, say things I didn’t mean or be anything I wasn’t.

  That scarf was breaking every part of that deal. I wasn’t a man who bought expensive gifts for his girlfriend, was I? And what did that expensive gift silently promise? More than I had to give.

  I could just give the scarf to Primrose to use as inspiration. Or I could return it. Or I could just sling it in my wardrobe and not think about it again. There were several solutions that didn’t involve giving it to Hollie. I didn’t want to mislead her or let her down. She’d been through enough. I wasn’t going to be another thing on the list of rubbish things that happened to her.

  I pulled open the heavy oak and brass doors of Fortnum and Mason, resolving not to think about it.

  This was most definitely a lunch arranged by Stella. Left to our own devices, Beck and I would have picked up a sandwich and found a bench. Although, in this wind, I was pleased we would be indoors. Dodging the tourists, I made my way across the lobby, with its tables, cabinets and shelves filled with jams, teas, confectionary and everything quintessentially English. I should bring Hollie here—perhaps we could come for afternoon tea. As I was making mental plans in my head, I realized she’d never agree to go out in public with me. Perhaps when the competition was over and she wasn’t an intern anymore. There I was again, thinking about Hollie when my head was supposed to be elsewhere. It was as if she’d permeated every thought.

  I took a clearing breath and climbed the few stairs on the far side of the store. I spotted Stella waving from a window seat, nodded and headed toward her and Beck. Stella pulled me into a half hug before I pulled off my scarf and put it on the back of the seat beside her.

  “Hermes. Someone’s been shopping. Next time can you take Beck?” She peered in the corner of the bag. “What is it?”

  “A scarf.” I should have picked it up on the way back to the office to avoid attracting Stella’s attention.

  “What kind of scarf?” she asked.

  “Have we got menus?” I asked, looking around for a waiter.

  “What kind of scarf,” Stella repeated. “Can I see?”

  “You know what a Hermes scarf looks like. I want to show Primrose the color. It’s design inspiration.” That would throw Stella off the scent. I didn’t want her to put two and two together and come up with eight, which is what would happen if I told her I’d bought the scarf for Hollie. Because it was also design inspiration. I beckoned over a waiter, who gave us menus and offered us drinks. Just as I thought Stella had forgotten about the scarf, she got a second wind.

  “How’s Hollie?” Stella asked and it was all I could do not to groan. Instead I focused my energy on glaring at Beck.

  “What?” he asked, not even trying to pretend he wasn’t delighted that his fiancée was giving me a load of grief. “It’s not like I could keep news like that to myself.”

  “Why would you want to hide that you’ve got a new girlfriend, Dexter?” Stella asked. “I was hoping you’d bring her today. When do we get to meet her?”

  This time I couldn’t contain a groan at their pestering questions. “You’ve got all the disadvantages of parents without the advantage of me being able to borrow money from you.”

  Stella fumbled in her wallet and pulled out a twenty-pound note. “Here you go. Now tell Auntie Stella exactly what’s going on in your love life.”

  “Love?” Beck interrupted.

  “Okay,” Stella said, taking the drink the waiter just brought over. “If it’s not love, what is it? Just sex?”

  “Stella, we’re not going to talk in detail about my sex life,” I said. “Beck is a very good friend of mine and I really don’t want to make him look bad.”

  She laughed. “Throw a girl a bone. Beck said you like this girl. I want to know more about her. At least tell me, is the scarf for her?”

  “Christ, I thought you had a successful career and happy relationship. Why do you have time to stick your nose into my life?”

  She slung her arm around my shoulder. “We’re family. I make time for family.”

  I chuckled. “She’s a lot,” I said to Beck.

  “Right?” he said, grinning as if he were completely proud of it.

  “What if the scarf is for her?” I wouldn’t mind Stella’s take on me giving Hollie the scarf. Would it be inappropriate? Too much? “It doesn’t mean anything. Does it? It’s not like I planned it. I didn’t make a special trip—I was just on my way here and saw it in the window.”

  Stella’s eyes widened. “So, you were passing Hermes, saw a scarf in the window that you thought would suit Hollie, and decided to get it for her? You’re making me swoon.”

  Did I want to make Hollie swoon? Yes. Should I want to? I couldn’t decide.

  “Seriously, is it a big deal? I don’t want to be a dick to this girl.” I glanced at Beck because he knew my history better than Stella did. He’d met Bridget and knew how I’d felt about her. “Shall I take it back?”

  “How could giving Hollie the scarf be a dick move?” Stella asked.

  “He doesn’t want to give her the wrong message,” Beck explained. “Because you know . . . Bridget.”

  The silence of what wasn’t being said filled the space between us. I knew Beck thought I needed to get over Bridget, but he also knew I knew that wasn’t possible. There was no point going through it again.

  “But you like Hollie, or you wouldn’t have bought the scarf?” Stella asked.

  “Yes of course I like her,” I replied.

  Stella wriggled in her seat and threw some very unsubtle I told you so looks at Beck.

  “This is not the first time I’ve liked a woman, Stella. I’m not some kind of man-whore who can only handle one-night stands. I’ve liked women before. I liked all my girlfriends.” Stella was reading too much into a very small word.

  “Do something for me?” she asked.

  “Stella,” Beck warned.

  “It’s okay,” I said to Beck. “I can handle your fiancée. I think.”

  “Have Hollie be a new book—a fresh page if you like,” she said. “It’s almost as if you have a script to follow with a girlfriend. You know how things are going to turn out before the first kiss. Don’t look ahead too far and be open to whatever happens.” She lifted her chin in Beck’s direction. “Sometimes life can surprise you. Don’t second-guess giving her the scarf. It’s thoughtful and caring and you felt the desire to buy it for her. It’s generous, and that’s part of who you are. That’s not a bad thing, Dexter.”

  The way Stella put it made sense. Maybe I wouldn’t be saying anything I didn’t mean if I gave Hollie the scarf. I wouldn’t be being anyone but me. But what, if anything, did a gift like this promise?

  “It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Stella said, answering the question before I could ask it. “It is what it is. You saw it, you thought of her, you bought it. It doesn’t mean anything beyond that.”

  Our food arrived and that gave me a chance for Stella’s words to settle. She was right—I was second-guessing myself when I didn’t need to. I’d had the urge to buy Hollie the scarf because it reminded me of her, simple as that.

  “I’m going to give her the scarf.”

  Fifteen

  Hollie

  Today was going to be another day jammed full of firsts. And not the kind of firsts that I experienced back in Oregon. I wouldn’t be running out of gas at the end of the week, unclogging a septic line, or having B
illy from the arcade hitting on me, which was a rite of passage for all the girls in Sunshine, Oregon. I was going to see the earrings that would be submitted to the competition by Daniels & Co for the first time. I was going to help out on the photo shoot where the earrings were going to be modelled. And I was going to assist Jeremy, who was presenting to Dexter the different ways we could display the jewelry for the competition.

  I would also be face-to-face with Dexter at work for the first time since we’d had sex.

  I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Or Oregon. Sometimes I wondered if it was even the same solar system.

  “Everyone in the conference room, please,” Primrose said. I’d already fetched coffee for everyone and had just finished rearranging the furniture so we could fit in a podium for the earrings that would be submitted for the competition. We’d all seen the drawings, and obviously some of the team had been involved in production, but this was the first time they would be seen by everyone.

  I couldn’t wait. The drawings were beautiful and I knew they would be even more so in real life. The energy in the office was buzzing, ready for the reveal of the first finished works.

  People began to file in when Frank, the chief jewelry engineer, came from the other end of the corridor carrying a big white box. Everyone paused so he could go ahead and he set the cube on top of the podium.

  “Okay, everyone, please take your seats. Hollie,” Primrose said, turning to me. “Can you take the stand around and show everyone while they’re seated so we don’t have a crowd around the podium?”

  Holy Hercules, I couldn’t be trusted to handle something so precious. I was guaranteed to trip and send one of the earrings hurtling down a drain that would magically appear in the floor. Frank handed me a pair of white gloves and I put them on, trying to hide my trembling hands as he took the lid off the box.

  I tried to act nonchalant, as if holding diamonds meant for the princess of Finland was an everyday occurrence for me. I took the stand from the box, which was like a six-inch high tree with just two branches, each one displaying a cacophony of diamonds. I wanted to remark on how freaking sparkly they looked and ask whether diamonds always looked that way, because, for the record, cubic zirconia definitely didn’t.