She shook her head, his wool sweater prickly against her cheek. “Nope.”
Chapter Twenty
After her last sightseeing tour stop fail, Daisy had insisted Sebastian take her to a local pub. He, of course, wanted to go home. But she couldn’t trust herself to go home with him, not without sleeping with him, and her desire for Sebastian was getting worse by the second.
The way he’d helped her in their private capsule hadn’t helped at all. Neither had his confession of some of his most secret fears. Or when he’d held her the entire time they rode The Eye and didn’t take afternoon tea. She still felt guilty about wasting all that food and his money.
The cab they shared bumped down a narrow road. “How far away is this pub?”
Another bump and he slammed into her. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“You really don’t want to eat another one of my cupcakes ever again, do you?”
He placed his hand on her thigh and leaned closer, his sweater-covered chest brushing against her breasts. “I could eat your cupcakes for hours, for days on end, and always come back for more.”
Oh my mercy. Heat pooled low in her belly, and she managed a weak laugh. “Sweet talking me won’t help you.”
He wriggled his brows and grinned. “But it doesn’t hurt things either.”
The cab stopped, saving her from answering as Sebastian got out to pay the driver. Why he didn’t pay the man while they were in the car made no sense to her, but who was she to judge? She stepped out of the cab and made her way to the entrance of the—oh Dear Lord—she gaped at the name. “The Cock and Beaver?” The rooster painted on the wooden sign was practically straddling the poor beaver. “He wants me to order food from here?”
“My favorite place,” Sebastian said from behind her.
“I won’t be able to tell anyone I ate here.” She busted out laughing, tears forming in her eyes.
“What’s so funny?”
“Translations.”
“We speak the same language.” He opened the door for her and held it. “A cock’s a cock and a beaver’s a beaver.”
“Oh my mercy,” she giggled, then dug her phone out of her purse and took of picture of the sign, sending a text to Isabella and Haven. Hopefully, Haven would have cell service soon. She would love this. “When in Rome, I’ll eat at the Cock and Beaver.”
“Really, Daisy, I don’t understand why the name is so amusing.”
She bit back another smile. “I’ll explain it to you when you’re drunk.”
The pub wasn’t too crowded and it fulfilled the hyped-up vision she’d had of an English pub. Low ceilings stained with smoke from a huge fireplace, exposed wooded beams, and an ancient bar. There was a dartboard off to the side, with a chalk scoreboard. A couple played at the moment, drinking beer and giving each other kisses after each throw.
“Shall I order, while you find a table, or would you rather sit at the bar?”
She pointed to an empty table in a shadowy corner of the bar. “I want to people watch.”
“Today’s her day,” she heard him mutter.
After practically running over to the table, she sat in a chair that faced the room and pulled one up for Sebastian beside her.
“Two pints—one for the lovely countess,” the server said with a smile.
“What countess?” More honest-to-goodness titled people? “What does she look like?” She searched the room, thinking she’d see a woman wearing a crown and a ball gown, as one did in a bar in the middle of nowhere, but the only person who stuck out was Ivan, wearing a grim expression as he surveyed the room.
“Maybe you should hold off on ordering another one until you’ve eaten something.” Setting the drinks down, the server gave her a this-woman-is-clearly-already-drunk look. “Sebastian said to tell you he had to take a call and would return in a bit. Fish and chips should be right up.”
Oh, the server meant her. Daisy grinned sheepishly, her shoulders rising. “Thanks. Can’t wait.”
“Cheers.”
Before Daisy could further make a fool of herself, Sebastian appeared and sat down beside her. “Does my pub meet with your approval?”
“As in you own it or this is my most favorite place ever and I like to come here all of the time?”
“The latter.”
She took a drink of her ale as their food arrived. “Couldn’t say it, could you?”
“No.”
“Want to invite Boris and Ivan to join us?” The two had been following them all day, mostly at a discreet distance, but she wasn’t dumb. Sebastian lived a life that required security. Maybe it wouldn’t be too weird not to have large men with guns following her around when she and Sebastian went their separate ways.
Her heart pinched. She didn’t want to think about separate ways.
“No drinking on the job.” He toasted her, smiling so bright that she couldn’t see anything but him. “To more days like this.”
“Ten more at least,” she said, lightly hitting her glass against his. She had to be wary of that smile, of his actions—like surprising her with a hat, a jumper, and a T-shirt with the Union Jack on it. “Then it’s back home for me,” she reminded him, really herself. This was not permanent.
“Right. Can’t forget that.” He looked off into the distance, his smile disappearing into his drink.
With a heavy heart, she dug into her food, eating fish and fries that tasted so good she wanted two more orders of it. Sebastian ate his as well, but kept quiet.
On her second glass of ale, music began to play and a woman picked up a microphone, singing along. A nearby television displayed the words and highlighted them.
She halfway rose out of her chair. “Do you ever karaoke?”
“No.”
She sat back down again. “Oh.” Something on his sweater glittered and she peered closer. “You’re wearing the flag pin I got you.”
He flushed. “Guilty.”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “We match, like a real couple and everything.” Her heart soared and a smile curved the corners of her lips.
“You’re quite pissed, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not.” She frowned. “Why would I be mad at you for wearing my pin?”
“Pissed means drunk, darling.”
“Oh … You really are sweet,” she sighed. “And nice.”
“I’m not sweet or nice.” His voice lowered. “And if you weren’t drunk, I’d take you home and shag you senseless to prove it.”
Blood pounded in her ears. Desire unfurled, winding through her body and making itself at home. She throbbed. She ached. She wanted him. Her nipples grew hard, her breasts heavy and sensitive against her lace bra. “I’m not drunk, Sebastian.”
He leaned into her, nibbling on her neck. “I’m not too sure about that.” His large hand covered her breast, gently squeezing.
Shutting her eyes, she moaned. His fingers slipped up and under her sweater, finding her nipple with ease. He tweaked the hard nub and her breath hitched. “Someone might see.”
“Too dark.” He pinched her nipple again, sending sparks of pleasure right to where she throbbed and pulsated for him.
“Please,” she panted. Although she wasn’t sure if it was a plea for more or for him to stop.
His palm ground against her clit and she wished she didn’t have on jean or panties. “I have a place nearby.”
She whimpered, and he covered her mouth with his, tongue tasting and exploring. She grabbed his bicep and thigh, letting that hand go up to where he was hard for her. “How far away?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
Jumping to her feet, she grabbed her purse and phone. “Pay the bill and let’s go.”
* * *
They made it in twelve minutes.
She kissed him as he unlocked the door, as they tried to run up the stairs and into his bedroom. Finally, Sebastian grabbed her by her thighs and lifted her up, lurching down the hall. Muscle memory his guide.
He flipped on the lights, slammed the door shut, and set her on her feet. She kissed him again, plunging her tongue in his mouth until he moaned.
Sebastian ripped her sweater open, buttons popping and pinging as they hit priceless artwork and vases. He kissed his way down her neck, to her chest, and took the tip of a lace-covered breast into his mouth. She moaned his name, her hands going to the edge of his sweater and tugging.
“I want this off,” she demanded.
“Whatever you want.” He stopped kissing her long enough to get their clothes out of the way. Then he cupped her face and kissed her deeply.
She brought his face down to hers, with one hand on the back of his neck. “I want you,” she said, biting his lip.
“To do what?” he growled, shoving his hand between her thighs. She was hot, wet, and swollen. He eased a finger inside of her, then another. “This?”
“Yes … yes.” Moaning, she moved against him, hard nipples scraping his chest and hips rolling. In her next breath, he’d grabbed a condom from his pants pocket and dropped to the floor, pulling her on top of him. “Ride me.”
“I haven’t been in this position before,” she whispered as he tore open the foil of the condom and rolled it on.
Glen was an idiot. He should be shot, castrated, and hung out to dry, and Sebastian was more than happy to do all three to the man. Determined not to let his shock or inner thoughts at her confession show, he leaned up to kiss her. “Rise up on your knees, darling.”
Biting her lip, she did as he instructed. He grabbed the base of his dick. “Now sit.”
“Like this?” The tip of him went inside her, where she was hot, tight, and wet.
“Yes,” he hissed.
Encouraged, she took all of him, bottoming out on his groin. He grabbed her hips, helping her move. Faster and faster, he urged her to ride him. Damn, but she was a quick learner.
“I needed this,” he said on a groan. “I needed to be inside of you.”
“Me too,” she whispered. Leaning forward, she balanced her hands on his chest and rode him hard. Breasts bouncing, nipples tight points, and hair falling out of its bun.
“There … like that.” Grabbing a thick lock, he wrapped it around his wrist and tugged her forward, grinding his body against hers. She came, blindingly fast and screaming his name.
Another desperate thrust into her tight, hot flesh, and he joined her. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered as she stopped moving on him. Her chest heaved and his rose in time as well. He swiped a hand over his face, opened his eyes, and smiled up at her. “What did you think?”
“I think woman-on-top is a new favorite of mine.”
He wondered what else she hadn’t tried, and made a mental note to ask her that later. “Shall we adjourn to the bed?”
Giggling, she fell against him, her face fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. “I vote aye.”
“The ayes have it.” Somehow, he managed to get them both to their feet, make use of the loo, and return to find her lying on her back in the middle of his bed, black lashes resting against her cheeks. She was right where she belonged.
The mattress dipped a little under his weight as he joined her.
“I like your house,” she said, eyes opening. “Well, what I saw of it.”
“Thank you. I’ll give you the grand tour tomorrow. How would you like to live here for the rest of your visit?”
She raised her head, resting it in the palm of her hand. “What about work?”
“Telecommuting is better for the environment.”
“Better for you, too,” she said. “But what about all the parties and—”
“Parties are overrated, and the paparazzi can find us anywhere. So goals will still be met.”
“That’s … good.” She blinked up at him, a little frown forming on her full lips.
“It is. I think you’ll like it better here. More freedom to pop down to wherever you like.”
Her gorgeous smile returned, bright enough to rival the sun. “Thank you for thinking of me then.”
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Near Surrey, in a village called Cheam.”
For a moment, she didn’t say a word. That’s right, darling, put it all together. “You’d rather have a vacation here than anywhere else in the world?”
Here was home, the place he’d bought with her in mind, in order to make happy memories. And now she was here, lounging in his bed. Cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling as if it were their wedding night. As if they were in love. Oh, how he loved her.
“Yes, but if you don’t want to stay—”
She placed a finger over his mouth. “I’m where I want to be.”
He kissed her finger and she drew it away. “Tomorrow we’ll explore the village, the park, and take you to The Mansion. Heard they filmed an episode of Downton there last year.”
“You are so sweet!” She gave him a quick kiss and started to rise from the bed. “I’m going to sleep right now. You should, too.”
Laughing, he caught her by the waist and pulled the sheets over their heads. “I think you’re more excited about that, than spending time with me.”
Light from the chandelier filtered through the white sheets, casting her in a hazy glow as she lay down beside him.
“Everything’s changed between us,” she said softly.
He slid his hand up and down her arm. “For the good, I hope.”
“I hope so, too,” she said, burying her face into his neck. “Or we made a really big mistake.”
“Glen royally screwed you over, yeah?”
She nodded, her lips on his throat. “Jules hurt me, too.”
“How about you let me make it up to you?”
A thick sigh left her, and her soft body seemed to melt into his. “How about we forget Jules and Glen ever happened to me?”
“If you wish,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
She lifted her head, looking down on him. “You know so much about me, but I hardly know anything about you.”
“Ask me anything.”
“Tell me what happened to Kate.”
He should have known she’d want to know about his former relationship with Kate. “I don’t think you want to know the answer to that,” he said slowly.
“Tell me anyway.”
So tenacious. One of the things he admired about her. “Business came first.”
“And she left you?”
“No. I broke things off with her.” He still remembered their talk, her face, and the relief he’d felt. Then the guilt that had followed for being relieved. “It wasn’t her fault I couldn’t change my ways.”
Her brow furrowed. “You mean wouldn’t change your ways.”
“Old habits are hard to break, but I guess if I had really loved her, then I would have freed myself from them,” he said, increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation. He knew his shortcomings. He knew he was an almost exact replica of Vladimir Romanov, not in temperament perhaps, but in nearly everything else that counted for something.
She snorted. “You think love makes someone change? You can’t change for someone else, not permanently anyway. Those habits will creep right back up and bite you in the arse.” She grinned for a moment, and then her expression turned serious. “Either change, because you want to change, or don’t bother.”
“I wouldn’t change anything about you,” she added in a heated whisper, her words a warm caress of air upon his skin. “You’re real and honest, and say exactly what you mean.”
Stunned, his hands froze on her back. The people closest to him always wanted something different from him. For him to be someone he wasn’t, someone more to their liking and his feelings be damned, not that he hadn’t earned their disappointment on some level.
Soon she would join them, when he finally confessed the truth, but not tonight. Maybe not even tomorrow, or the next day.
“Well, there is one thing I’d change about you,” she said.
She threw the covers off them and straddled his lap. All wicked curves, sexy breasts, and delicious pink nipples. The curls of her sex were damp against his skin. “Your favorite pub.”
A bark of laughter escaped him. “What’s wrong with the Cock and Beaver?”
“Seriously? It’s two substitution words for very naughty parts of the anatomy. I mean, every time I said the name, I expected someone to yell, ‘That’s what she said.’”
“Explain.”
A fine blush covered her face, travelling lower over her chest. “Well, cock is a cock.”
“A rooster?” he asked, knowing full well what she meant. “What’s so naughty about a barnyard animal?”
“Nothing.” Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “It’s a cock cock.”
He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Ah, then touch that very naughty part of my anatomy.”
Lifting her thighs, her hand slipped down and gently grabbed his dick. “Here.”
Briefly, he closed his eyes as he grew hard again, and then peered at her through his lashes. “So that’s a cock? Who knew?”
“I can’t believe it.” She punched him in the chest and he made an unf sound. “You knew the entire time.”
“I’m an excellent guesser.” The tip of her thumb rubbed his piercing and he groaned low in his throat. “What about the beaver?”
“Obviously, it’s, well, you know,” she said, that blush of hers becoming redder by the second.
He rose up on his elbows, very aware that she had begun to stroke his cock. His hips lifted to meet each down stroke. “If you can’t use your words, darling, then use your hand. Your less occupied hand.”
Her head turned to the side as her hand inched toward where he wanted to be again. “I can’t. I know I should be able to, but I can’t. I’m embarrassed.”
“Don’t be.” He cupped the side of her face. “Look at me. Between us, everything is shameless.”
She turned her head, lips brushing his palm. “Why would anyone want to change a man who says things like that?”
Modern Fairy Tale: Twelve Books of Breathtaking Romance Page 237