Sasha’s resolve kicked into gear. “No,” she replied tersely. “I’m not free. And last time I checked, neither were you.”
He sighed. “I’ve upset you. You’re going to have to give me a clue.”
Though Sasha knew she should end the call there and then, she couldn’t help but keep him on the line. His voice—the soothing, lulling English accent—was arousing her as successfully as his tongue on her clitoris had earlier that morning. Speaking to him was like foreplay. She needed him, even if it was just his voice, just a fraction of what she’d had that morning. Maybe if she kept him on the line, her body would get the dose of Thomas Lloyd it needed in order to satisfy the cravings, to stop the unpleasant yearning of cold turkey.
“A clue?” she said, hoping he couldn’t hear the breathlessness in her voice as she spoke. “You can’t work it out?”
“No,” came his harried, clipped answer. “Can’t you just tell me? I don’t like guessing games.”
A little gasp escaped from Sasha’s mouth. Her insides clenched. The commanding tone of his voice reminded her of earlier that day when he’d demanded she remove her bra. She wanted to talk dirty to him there and then. She wanted to run to that secluded alley the barman had told her about and touch herself to the dulcet tones of Thomas Lloyd’s voice.
But the logical part of her brain was still working. And it kept reminding her that Thomas Lloyd was a player. It kept questioning his motives. Why was he bothering with her at all? Surely, his queue of woman hadn’t run dry on him? Surely, a sex addict like him would have an escort agency on speed dial?
She strode into a dark corner of the club and sat down in the red leather booth. A couple were making out beside her. The girl had ripped fishnet tights, and one leg hitched up across the man’s lap. Platinum blonde hair. Bright red manicured nails. The sight of her reminded Sasha why she had to turn down Thomas Lloyd.
“Crystal,” she said at last.
There was a pause. Then, with an exhalation, Thomas said, “What did she say to you?”
So he wasn’t even going to deny it. “It’s not what she said, Thomas. It’s what she is.”
There was another long pause. Finally, Thomas said, “So you do know how to use Google after all.”
Sasha frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“My sister. The junky porn star. You’ve found out about her and you’re running a mile. I can’t say I blame you….”
“Sister?” Sasha said. “You have a sister? Called Crystal?”
“Yes…Well, no, I have a sister called Olivia, but she goes by Crystal these days.”
Sasha pressed her back against the booth, making the leather squeak. Beside her, the woman straddled the man and the two began dry humping.
But Sasha was paying about as little attention to them as they were to her. She was gob-smacked by Thomas’s revelation. If true, it meant that everything she thought about him was wrong. There was no queue of women. No hookers on speed dial. No sex addiction. But without that, what was she left with? A sexy man who knew how to pleasure her like no one ever had or ever could—who was telling her, of all people, that he needed her…?
She had to get to the bottom of it. She owed her swelling clit that much.
“If she was your sister, why would she tell me she was your escort?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. “Escort?” Thomas muttered. “That’s a new one.” He sighed audibly. “I shouldn’t be surprised, really. My sister has issues. Well, of course, you can tell she has issues.”
“But what was she doing at your hotel? Didn’t she know you had interviews all day?”
“Crystal doesn’t care about my schedule. When she needs money, she’ll do anything.” His tone had become drenched in anguish. She could hear the pain in it. Crystal turning up at his hotel room had shaken him up as much as it had her.
Beside her, the humping couple had reached a bit of a fever pitch. Sasha realized that they were going to full on start shagging, right there in the dark corner of the night club. The whole thing was throwing her body into overdrive. Thomas’s voice on one end of the phone arousing her, reminding her of his hot breath in her ear, his hard cock inside of her…the revelation that she’d been wrong about him adding a whole new level of wanton desire…the undulating bodies beside her…it was all too much.
She needed sex. She needed Thomas. And now.
“So?” Thomas said. “Will you meet me?”
Sasha bit her bottom lip. “I…”
“... have somewhere better to be?”
She glanced round at the dingy club, at all the people sharing passionate embraces. Then her gaze fell to the barman. He was cleaning a glass, and his angry eyes were fixed on her. It was a dangerous look. He pointed to the clock and sneered. It was time for his break.
“No,” she said finally. “I can meet you.”
“Dinner?”
“Dinner sounds good.”
He gave her an address. “I’m…looking forward to seeing you again,” he finished.
“You, too,” Sasha replied, but her voice was a girlish squeak.
The phone went dead, and she let out a deep breath of air. Then she stood, finding her legs wobbly and barely able to hold her weight. Every nerve was alive with anticipation.
She pushed her way past the bodies of people towards the exit of the club. Just as she started to ascend the steps, a person sidled up to her. The barman.
“Changed your mind?”
She gave him a look. “Not in a million years.”
He glared at her, his face filled with hatred. “Stuck up bitch. Good luck getting laid.”
She swirled out of the club, a smile on her lips. That same Thomas Lloyd magnetism that had led her to his bed was pulling her towards him once again. And if her body had any say in the matter, this night was not going to end at just dinner.
Chapter Three
“I didn’t think I’d hear from you again,” Sasha said, twiddling the fork in front of her.
Across the other side of the table, Thomas’s penetrating gaze was locked on her. It made her feel naked. It made her want to be naked. Sitting through dinner with Thomas was going to be an exercise in self-restraint. It was already taking all her power not to fling herself across the table at him, and they’d only just taken their seats in the ridiculously posh restaurant.
“Why not?” Thomas said. “I told you I’d call, didn’t I?”
Sasha squirmed in her seat. “I suppose I didn’t believe you.” Because I thought you were a sex addict who used women then tossed them aside. “I mean, it ended rather abruptly earlier,” she said aloud.
A small smile flitted across Thomas’s face. “Yes. Crystal. She has a knack for timing.” He reached out and touched Sasha’s fingers. “She spoiled the momentum. I had so many more things that I wanted to do to you.”
Electricity raced up Sasha’s arm, reminding her of the feeling of Thomas inside of her. She tried to force her blush away and calm her ragged breath. She moved her hand out from under his and picked up her glass.
“Some water would be nice,” she said, craning her head round and looking for a waiter, looking anywhere but at the man who made desire thrum in her breasts.
“You Americans have no patience,” Thomas said. Then he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “We’re not in a rush to get anywhere. Are we?”
Just your bed, Sasha thought.
The waiter arrived with a bottle of water in an ice bucket, and Thomas leaned back, creating some breathing space between them. Sasha took a deep breath. She was feeling suddenly oxygen deprived.
“Thank you,” Thomas said to the waiter. As the waiter left, Thomas poured Sasha a drink. “You really thought I was the kind of man who’d pay for sex?” he said. “You can’t think much of me.”
“I didn’t. At the time.” She thought shamefully of the vitriolic article sitting on Kelly’s desk in the Atomic office.
“And now?”
; “Now…well, now that I know you don’t schedule your women for sex, I feel a little warmer towards you.”
Thomas let out a bark of a laugh. He swilled his water in his glass like it was a fine whisky. “So your opinion of me has improved somewhat. That’s good to hear. How can I make you feel more than just luke warm towards me? Because earlier today I would say you were scolding hot. Tepid is a bit of a step down.”
Sasha’s heartbeat was racing. Talking to Thomas now was just like before in the hotel room, like an interrogation, like he was attempting to read her mind and cleave his way into her soul.
“I honestly don’t know,” she replied. “It’s not easy to recover from something like that.” She was lying, and she hoped not too badly. Thomas had already won her over again. He didn’t need to do anything to turn her on to him. But having him try was exciting.
“Why don’t you think about it,” he said. “I told you I don’t like mind games. I like things straight up. I want to know what you think of me, where I stand with you, and what I need to do to make it up to you.”
She gestured to the dining hall, with its carved statues, gold-gilded paintings, and marble floor. “This is a good start.”
Thomas laughed. “Money? That’s the way to your heart? I wasn’t expecting that.”
Sasha frowned. “It’s not the money. It’s the gesture.”
“Because if I’d given you the address of my house instead, you wouldn’t have just as readily come there?”
“You know what,” Sasha said. “Here’s what I think of you. You’re arrogant.”
“True.”
“And demanding. You come on strong then make me feel cheap for falling for it. The question isn’t what you need to do to make it up to me, it’s why you want to in the first place?”
“Why I want to?” Thomas said playfully. “You haven’t looked in a mirror today? Your arse looks fabulous in that dress.”
“We say ass in America,” Sasha said, raising an eyebrow.
Thomas smirked. “Touché.”
“So it’s just my body you want?” Sasha challenged him.
“Isn’t that what we all want, humans, deep down? You want my money, I want your body. We’re all driven by passion and desire. You drive me wild, the look of you, the taste of you.” His eyes flashed with desire. Sasha couldn’t help but feel excitement race between her legs. Then the tone of Thomas’s voice changed, softening slightly. His playful bravado slipped a little, revealing something else beneath. “But it’s not just that. You…you….” He struggled to find the words and gave up. He licked his lips and sighed. “It’s been a hard day. I get grilled by journalists delving into my personal life like they own it. My crazy sister turns up demanding money, making accusations. One good thing happened to me today. And that was meeting you, intern.”
Sasha was so taken aback she didn’t know what to say. An automatic, “Don’t call me that,” left her lips in a breathless whisper.
The waiter came over.
“Can I take your orders, please?” he said.
Sasha broke from her trance. She hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. Her eyes flicked down to the list of posh-sounding food. If she hadn’t felt out of place in Thomas Lloyd’s company before, she certainly did now. She didn’t know what half of these things were, let alone how to pronounce them. Then she realized she wouldn’t have to. Thomas was ordering for the both of them.
The whole time the waiter looked directly at Thomas. It was as though she wasn’t there at all.
“That was rude,” she said as he walked away.
“What was?”
“Ordering for me. You don’t even know what I like to eat, and you’re being presumptuous enough to order for me.”
“Oysters are an aphrodisiac. Trust me when I say I had your best intentions at heart.”
Heat flooded her body.
“He recognized you,” she said, changing the subject.
“Of course he did,” came Thomas’s reply. “Everyone and their cat recognizes me. Apart from…you.” He tipped his eyes up to meet hers.
“And that’s the secret to my appeal...,” Sasha said with a dry laugh. “My cluelessness. If only I’d know in high school.”
Thomas smiled. He seemed to like it when she joked with him. What was it with the English and sarcasm?
“So tell me, intern,” Thomas said. “Where have you been hiding all these years?”
“Really? You want to talk about me?” She shuffled in her seat.
“I want to know how a woman can get to, what, twenty-eight, and not have seen any of my films.”
“I’m twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three?” He almost spat out the water he’d taken a sip of. “I thought you were older. You seem more mature.”
“Maybe because I am more mature,” Sasha replied. “I’ve been focused on my career since a young age. I didn’t have time for films.”
“A journalist who doesn’t have time for films. What a contradiction.”
Sasha felt the need to defend herself. “I don’t want to be a popular culture journalist. I’m just working at Atomic because I need an internship on my CV before I can move onto other things.”
“Oh, so films, acting, that’s all beneath you, is it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
There he was again. The Thomas Lloyd that argued with her, challenged her for the sake of making her uncomfortable. He had such a talent for inflaming her, for drawing the passion out of her. It was a tactic, she was sure of it. If he could make her angry, he could make her care. He got a thrill out of riding the rollercoaster of emotion and dragging her along for the ride. And Sasha couldn’t help but fall for it.
“Why are you putting words in my mouth?” she said.
“They’re your words, intern. I’m just highlighting their true intention.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s what you are.”
“What I am. Not who I am.”
“And who are you?”
His eyes bore into her. Her heart raced.
“I don’t know,” she said, finally, defeated. “Just a girl with a dream. Getting sidetracked by glitz and glamour.” She gestured to the room around them.
“That’s not what I see.”
Part of her didn’t want to know how Thomas perceived her, but part of her knew that whatever he said would send lightning rods of desire through her whole body.
“What do you see then?” she questioned him tentatively.
“A woman with fierce ambition and drive. A woman who suppresses her desires because she hasn’t let herself explore them. A woman who has had her eyes opened and her mind expanded by mind-blowing sex and who finally knows that she wants a whole lot more than a high-flying job. A woman who knows she deserves more.”
Sasha drew a breath. Just like when they’d spoken on the phone earlier, his voice aroused her. She licked her parched lips. “Then why do you belittle me by calling me ‘intern’?”
Thomas leaned forward, his hungry gaze fixated on her. “Because I love it when you tell me not to. Intern...”
He was so close she could feel his breath on her. Her whole body throbbed with desire, with want.
“Don’t call me that,” she said, her voice a husky whisper.
This time she noticed the arousal in his eyes, the widening of his pupils, and the longing in his facial features.
Under the table, she slipped her shoe off and raised her foot. She rubbed it up the length of his leg then rested it on the bulge in his pants. His lips parted.
“Intern…,” he murmured again.
She put pressure on his cock with the ball of her foot, then tipped her head forward and made her face expressionless. “Don’t call me that.”
He let out a moan and closed his eyes. “Intern…,”
She felt his cock hardening beneath her foot.
A clatter made them both jerk up in their seats. Waiters w
ere bustling forward with their oysters.
Sasha moved her foot back to the floor and subtly angled it into her shoe. Just like her encounter with Thomas this morning, she was alarmed by her boldness, by the way he drew something out of her she didn’t realize she possessed. She had a power over him, one she didn’t fully understand, but one that she wanted to explore. The last thing she cared about doing now was eating.
“You want to leave already?” Thomas said, as soon as the waiting staff had gone, reading into her expression.
“I just can’t wait to feel you inside of me,” she said, boldly.
Thomas eyebrows shot upwards. “Have you not heard of delaying gratification?”
She folded her arms. “Here we go again. You, the great teacher, me the clueless pupil. Well, go on then. Please tell me more, oh wise one.”
He smirked. “Well, if I recall, this morning we were interrupted before I climaxed. I’ve spent all day thinking about you. About your body. About your taste and smell and the noises you make when you come. I’m ready to pop like a champagne cork. And when I do, it’s going to be incredible. So we stay. We eat. We delay gratification.”
Wow, Sasha thought. He even makes the idea of not having sex sexy.
She tried to focus her attention on eating, but her mind kept wandering. Her nerves were on fire, desperate for his touch. It was made all the worse by the fact that Thomas didn’t take his eyes off her once. It was like he was mentally undressing her.
Finally, she put her fork down and looked up. “You like watching women eat?”
“I was just thinking about how you never answered my question,” he replied. “About where you’ve been hiding all these years?”
The abrupt change in conversation took her aback. She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m asking you about your life. Your childhood. Your upbringing. I want to get to know you, Sasha.”
Her heart skipped a beat, and she almost choked on her mouthful. He’d called her Sasha, not intern, and it felt more intimate than anything that had happened in the Honeymoon suite of the Hilton.
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