“God bless you,” the man yells loud enough for us to hear him.
Henry opens the door for me to climb in before he turns and waves at the man. “Have a great night.”
After a pause punctuated by the sound of the seatbelts buckling up, I turn to him with what I hope is a teasing smile. “What will your family say?”
His fingertips skim the skin of my leg before pushing the skirt further up. “They don’t have to know.” Henry cocks his head to the side before leaning closer. His lips brush against my jaw, sending pleasure waves down my spine.
“Someone will tell them,” I reply, breathless and losing myself in his eyes. He guffaws, letting his teeth sink in my ear lobe; a soft moan falls from my lips.
“Are you going to be that someone?” He pulls away, and immediately my body craves his.
“Of course not.” The irritation in my voice is palpable, but soon forgotten when his hand pulls at the skirt. My hands immediately fly to the hemline, trying to keep it covering my thighs.
“Stop teasing me,” I tell him, and instead of doing as I ask, instead a devilish smile appears on his lips, knocking the air out of my lungs.
My eyes close slightly. The only sound besides the radio in the front of the cab is the clicking of his seatbelt as he unbuckles it. “It’s so easy to tease you.” He relishes in his words before his lips brush against mine; the tips of his fingers moving across my thigh.
And here is the problem, I think as I kiss him back. It’s easy to forget that there’s a man driving us through London. Also, it’s difficult to recall the people who might gawk inside the black cab when we stop at the pedestrian crossings and traffic lights. Henry’s hands have total control over my body, and my mind should know better, but it has shut down. Pleasure is the ruling king right now, and I’m totally okay being its subject.
It doesn’t matter how many times we’ve been here, how many times his hands have moved over my body with want and desire. Every time I’m with him, it feels like the first time. Is this the reason why I turn everyone else down, because he knows how to turn me on and set me on fire? It’s easier to get lost in the lust currently burning through my body than face the reality of my feelings for Henry.
Chapter Thirteen
I chastise myself when my hands move to unbuckle my seatbelt, but Henry’s stop me from doing so. “Henry.”
“What?” he asks, breathless against my lips before kissing me again.
I kiss him back, getting lost deeper in the moment and ignoring everything, even the fact that the car has stopped.
“Here you are, lovebirds,” the cabbie says. We’re parked in front of Henry’s house.
Henry chuckles in a brazen way. “Well, that was fast.” He winks at me before turning to the man. “Thanks,” he says, paying him before helping me out of the cab. My phone vibrates in my coat but I’m being lead down the road to perdition by Henry. “I’m tearing that dress off you with my teeth and in one swift movement.” He grins, though soon his eyes narrow at me when my phone vibrates once more. “And I’ll throw your phone in the rubbish bin.”
The fire in my belly has spread through my body, making it pulsate quicker when a mental picture of Henry doing what he just promised nestles in my mind. I bite my lip before finding my voice. “Stop,” I begin, slightly light-headed. “It’s not that bad.” I dig in my coat pocket for the cell phone while following him.
“Can’t you turn it off? It’s the weekend,” he reminds me.
I steal a glance at the cell phone’s screen. “Shit.”
“What?” he asks, turning toward me as we stand together in front of his house. Henry lifts his hand up to tuck my long fiery-red hair behind my ear before letting his fingers slide down the side of my neck.
I groan because of all the things I want to be doing right now, answering the phone isn’t one of them. “It’s the Trinity calling,” I mutter, trying to ignore the craving rushing through my body.
“Just ignore them,” he presses his lips against my forehead. “Your friends have the worst timing in the history of all the shags of the world. They’re always cock-blocking me.” My skirt rides up when his hand moves up my side.
“They’re not doing that. They don’t even know about this,” the words escape me as a soft murmur once his fingers caress my thigh. Slowly, I’m undone under his touch.
Henry takes full advantage of my lack of panties to tease me mercilessly, as if I needed more reasons to ignore the phone.
“We’re in the middle of the road,” I tell him in an urgent whisper, but my forehead dives forward against his shoulder.
“Ignore the call,” he says, unashamed, his free hand pulling me closer. It drapes across my waist, and in one swift motion we’re inside the gate. Henry’s pressing me against it the moment it closes.
The phone stops vibrating when I let it fall inside my purse, which falls to the ground. My body presses hard against him as I kiss him hungrily. Henry’s fingers tease me into oblivion as my body gives in, leaving me shattered and breathless.
“I’m going to take you inside and …” his voice trails off as the buzzing punctuates his words.
I brush my lips against his neck before he pulls away. “If I don’t answer, they’ll keep calling and then be all bitchy and bossy.” Henry looks away from me, taking a deep breath in.
“Don’t take too long.” He lets the air out of his lungs before walking inside the house.
A string of swear words escape my lips when I pick up the cell phone from the bag. Regrets fill my mind as I swipe my finger across the screen to answer. My body is still on a high, not willing to come out of it on its own, and I’m definitely wondering if the satisfaction coursing through my body is noticeable in my voice.
“Hi, D,” I say, waiting for Diana, my oldest friend, to reply.
“Gracie!” she exclaims in a way that makes me wonder how many margaritas she’s had. “Hold on, I’m adding Bernie to the conversation.”
“I’m already here,” Bernie’s amused voice fills the silence before they burst out laughing.
“Are you gals drunk?” I ask, fixing my coat.
“What are you doing?” Diana inquires, ignoring my question, which means they’re one margarita away from Pukeville.
“I’m home… well, I’m outside. I went out with my colleagues to the pub, so now I’m home.” Technically, I am because Henry’s house is just two stops away from my house by train. I hope they’re both too drunk to understand that I’m rambling.
“You went out with your colleagues,” Diana states as I groan inwardly. “So… did you take anyone home with you?”
“No, no one,” I say, hoping that’s going to end the conversation. And technically, I didn’t take anyone home, so I’m not really lying.
“Not one guy?” Bernie asks as I groan. “Okay, fine, fine, I won’t ask.”
“Wait, wasn’t Leticia setting you up with her half-brother?” Diana asks as I clear my throat. Immediately, regret takes over. I shouldn’t have replied to their text with news of a possible date with Sebastien. Boredom, I remind myself, I was bored on the way back to the flat and texted them. “Yes, but we rescheduled; something came up. I’ll call him in the morning. He left me a voice mail,” I say as I spy Henry through the windows pouring whiskey in two glasses.
“You’re so lucky. I’ve been staring at his underwear pictures. Have you seen them?” Bernie asks.
“Erm… There’s a billboard outside one of the Tube stations. But I’ve not paid that much attention to it,” I reply in an even tone as I walk back to the door.
“You totally should. Maybe if you did, you would be calling him right now.” A raucous laugh escapes Diana as I pull the phone away from my ear. “Call him, and then call us with all the dirty details. If it doesn’t work out, at least you can do what we can’t… bang a model.”
“Gosh, you moms have no fun, huh? You need to live vicariously through me…” After pushing the door open and closing it behind me t
he warmth from the heater welcomes me like an old friend. I glance at my reflection on the mirror and shake my head. My hair is disheveled, thanks to Henry’s hands. Lipgloss, I reach in the bag, grab, and apply it before dropping it back in.
“Well, if you got married, we would have no excitement in our lives,” Bernie mocks me in such a dramatic tone I can’t stop myself from laughing.
“I hate you. Talk to you tomorrow,” I tell them as Henry leans against the wall, looking me over as if I was something to be eaten. My whole body hums while his eyes undress me.
“Do and call. Don’t forget. Can’t wait to see you; we will have the best time!” Diana exclaims, way too happy about the prospect. Definitely drunk.
“Yes, it’ll be epic. Maybe this birthday will be better than my eighteenth when you ambushed me and threw me the worst surprise party ever.” I remind them. “I’m really stoked that you gals are going to be here.” I hope the sincerity in my voice doesn’t get lost in translation when it reaches their boozed up brains.
“We promise it’ll be nothing like your eighteenth. We will rent a nice ballroom to get everyone together. So send your list of London contacts; we want to meet all those people,” Bernie says, followed by a quick snort from Diana.
“No, we want to judge them.” Diana giggles. “Night, hon!”
“Night, gals…” I say, pressing end before switching the phone off.
Chapter Fourteen
I open my purse to chuck my phone in it, but I don’t. Instead, I hold it up for Henry to see.
“Done?” Henry holds the whiskey glass next to his cheek as his eyes glue to mine. “There’s a glass for you on the table.”
“Thanks,” I tell him finally, chucking the phone in my purse. “It’s off.” I zip it and leave it on the table.
Henry’s fingers skim his cheek. The ice in his glass clinks against the sides of it like a distant church bell while he watches me. After taking a sip from the whiskey, he cocks his head to the side. “Are they still planning a big party for your birthday?”
“It gets bigger by the day, and they want a list of all my London contacts… so they can judge them.”
“Think they’ll judge me harshly?” The amusement in his voice makes me smile.
The glass bangs against the table. It distracts me momentarily from the fidgeting and the struggle to undo the coat’s buttons. My fingers are colder than I expected them to be. Henry steps behind me, and before I can turn his hands are on my neck. His fingertips caress my skin, encouraging me to take a slow intake of breath before letting it go.
Both his hands maneuver around me, deftly unbuttoning the coat. When he pushes it off my shoulders, his lips brush against my exposed skin. A surge of electricity rushes through my body as his hand lifts up to touch the side of his face. Henry’s lips leave tiny heat pockets on my skin. Each kiss makes my heart speed up. I surrender, pressing my back against his chest.
Henry nuzzles his nose against my skin before sighing softly, “Come on.” My eyes blink several times in disbelief when I notice that he’s leading me to the kitchen. “I expected you to be taking me to the bedroom.” I punch him lightly on the shoulder.
“Patience has never been your strong suit,” he chides me before kissing the tip of my nose.
“And you have infinite amounts of it?” I challenge.
“Hey, I like waiting. You always taste better when I do.”
My cheeks heat up, not from awkwardness but want as Henry watches me with a satisfied smile on his lips. “Mrs. Watson was kind enough to cook dinner for tomorrow, for us,” he turns us around and I find myself pinned to the wall. “She believes I’m having a great love affair with someone famous and possibly married.” His lips are inches from mine.
“Married?”
“I could, you know.” The playfulness of his voice disarms me as I try to pull away.
“And she only figured this out now? She’s not very observant, huh?” I ask with a smirk.
“Well, actually, she is. She’s been keeping track and told me the other day it’s been going on and off for about nine years.” He nods. “At first, I didn’t know what she was talking about …”
“How did she figure that out?” My husky voice distracts him from the banter for a mere second. As punishment for the distraction, he bites my bottom lip, making me groan.
“I keep asking her to make a certain dish and to get champagne, and I think the fact that I make lemon tart when I ask her to make the dish, well, she put two and two together.” He smirks, pulling away and leaving me wanting more.
The bastard.
“Well, maybe you have a lot of girls coming around and this is your favorite,” I reply, gathering my vagabond thoughts.
Henry makes sure the charcoal grey mittens are hanging straight from the hook on the wall before he moves to the fridge. The whole kitchen is an ode to OCDism. Perfectly white cupboards match perfectly white granite and chrome appliances which sparkle, not a fingerprint in sight.
“Now, why didn’t I come up with that?” His voice brings me out my thoughts. By the time I turn to him, he’s taking the lemon tart out of the fridge. My stomach grumbles.
“You need me to help you out of sticky circumstances. Admit it, no one knows you like I do.” I grin. “After all, I’m your best friend.”
“My best friend?” He walks to the cupboard deep in thought before handing me the plates. After they’re set on the island’s counter, I turn to grab the cutlery and find his guarded eyes on me. I raise an eyebrow and then smirk. “Who else knows you better than me? No one! You can’t take that away from me.”
“I don’t know.” Henry frowns. “I should test you.”
“Really?” I roll my eyes. “This can become very expensive, you know? You’ll have to actually reward me for every right answer,” I tell him.
“I’m not afraid of you, Graciela.”
“Shoot then,” I tell him as his brow furrows. “And none of those, birthday, first kisses, and first shags… which, by the way, I know well: November 20th, Mathilde, you were twelve and she was fourteen and you were staying with her family in Paris. First shag with that tart Camille, you were sixteen, and she was eighteen, at the Cotswolds.”
“Tart?” He arches an eyebrow.
“She was eighteen and you were sixteen,” I repeat, because clearly that should suffice. He grins at my annoyance in the most devilish of ways.
“Okay, so what about my favorite poem,” he says as I groan.
“That’s not fair… you have three.”
“Pick one,” he says.
I push my hair back and fix my eyes on him. “Fine. In no particular order, there’s the shag poem: My love is as a fever, longing still by William Shakespeare.”
“That’s a great one.”
“Les yeux d’Elysa by Louis Aragon when you’re in Europe because you know anyone will drop their panties once you start speaking French,” I say, holding two fingers up.
“And it’s a beautiful poem,” he adds.
“And Neruda’s Sonnet XVII in Spanish, which coincidentally, is actually the only Spanish that you know,” I say, sticking my tongue at him before pretending to drop a mic. “Boom.”
Chapter Fifteen
Henry studies me for a long time before he straightens up. “Fine, you know me a bit better than other people,” he concedes before setting the rest of the things on the counter. “I guess, as your best friend, I can ask you to ignore the Trinity when you’re with me, then.” He smirks, glancing toward me and I can’t help rolling my eyes. That will never happen.
“No one gets between the Trinity calls,” I remind him before sitting down.
“I see. Not even their husbands, or are they coming to London as well?” he asks before presenting the most perfect lemon tart.
I stare at the perfect buttery pastry and the lemon filling and my mouth waters. Henry’s probably the best lemon tart baker in the world.
“Hey, stop drooling.” He tosses me my linen
napkin. “Little-Henry might get jealous.”
A soft squeal leaves my lips before I start laughing, trying hard to stop picturing Little-Henry. “You’re so rotten,” I shoot as he shrugs. “It looks delicious,” the words fall from my lips after Henry serves the tart.
“I suppose their husbands are coming,” he continues the conversation where we left it off. When I remove the napkin ring with my initials engraved on it with a simple font, GM, my eyes remain on it for a while. The napkin ring is unassuming and my favorite color: baby blue. “What’s wrong?” Henry’s voice nudges me back to reality with a concerned tone that pulls right at my heart.
“Nothing.” I smile in what I hope is a reassuring way before placing the ring on the table, then the napkin goes across my lap.
“You looked deep in thought,” he adds, placing a slice of the tart before me.
“I was staring at the napkin ring,” I explain as he arches an eyebrow. “My mother bought one the last time I went home. It was… cluttered.” I shrug. “I wish she knew me like you do,” I admit, meeting his eyes. Something in them changes, but before I can understand the meaning of it, he looks away.
“Well, that’s impossible; she can’t sleep with you.”
“Oh, gross!” I throw my napkin at his face; my reaction only makes him laugh harder. “Is everything a joke to you?”
“No,” he says before sticking his tongue out and hands me the napkin back. “You’re so easy to gross out.”
“Sometimes, I wonder how in the world we’re friends.”
“You’re not thinking about chucking me, right?” he asks with a mock pout as he grabs the champagne bottle from the fridge. “Because I want to eat you tonight.”
My body buzzes as I hold his gaze in mine. “You totally should.” I glance at him from under my eyelashes. He leans closer over the counter and kisses my lips.
“Let me get this straight…” He sits beside me before uncorking the bottle of champagne. “Are you my friend because I’m good looking?”
I study his face, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, his long beard, which makes him look so much more sophisticated than he is sometimes. A strange contented feeling spreads through my body. When I look back to my plate, my hand pushes my hair back. I can’t help but think he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life.
Henry and Gracie Page 6